The big Black Dug

Auld Winston used tae call his depression ‘The Black Dog’ and ah always thought if it’s good enough for Winnie, it’s good enough for me. Ah still wrestle away wi’ that auld Cunt- part of me has a likin’ for him- his Alcohol intake alone was enough tae get him Three Knighthoods- and he had a presence aboot him, but at the end of the day he was an auld God save the King or Queen, Tory Git.  Anyway, it’s Three o Clock in the mornin’ and, unlike Crystal Gayle, ah’ canny sleep and ah’m watchin ‘Warbirds’ on the Horror Channel, in between havin’ a wee smoke and typin’ this oot and it’s Fuckin’ awfy. On an ‘unknown’ Atoll somewhere in Atoll land an American Lady Ace Pilot crash lands perfectly and meets up wi’ Japanese troops and flyin’ Dinosaurs. Enough said. Dinosaurs at Three o  Clock, Skipper, type of thing. So, earlier on, aboot half Nine, ah just had this almost overwhelmin’ kind of wee mental breakdoon. Ah’d got ‘ Linda’d ‘earlier on when she phoned me. Meanin’ that every time she phones me or ah phone her ah get aboot Eighteen and a half Minutes of Linda bein’ Linda which is a combination of Julie Andrews fae the sound of Music, the White Witch fae the East or West or wherever the Fuck she was fae, in the Wizard of Oz, and Delia Smith and Mary Berry or Hairy Belly or Halle Berry, or whatever the Fuck she’s called- but ah always get that Minute and a half where she turns intae a scarier version of Auld Bunty. Auld Bunty needed a drink tae turn intae her Mr Hyde- she wouldny be confrontational when she was sober. The Minute that Second can or bottle went doon she made Baby Jane seem like Shirley Temple and ‘ went straight for the Jugular’ as Davy, sae aptly put it. Linda didny need drink as her back up and never has needed it and that is, or was, one huge difference between them. Ah have been verbally knocked Fuck oot by Linda on numerous occasions and it’s usually aboot me smokin the Fags and the Blaw, and last night was nae exception. By Fuck, did ah get a sare ear last night. Ah felt so Guilty for bein’ a smoker when we’d finished oor blether last night that ah think ah fell intae a mini mental breakdoon for aboot an Hour after it. Haggis agus Tumshie agus mashed Tatties – the business. Ah dragged masel oot the hole ah was in and ah’m ok noo.

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