The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs, written by Andrew, Brebner, Simon, Fogiel and John Hardie.
J Fergus Lamont, arts correspondent and author of ‘Ken fit? How the Barbie movie has impacted on male body image in the north-east’
Major art exhibitions are common enough in Scotland’s Central Belt. One thinks of Cut and Run, the Banksy show in Glasgow, Grayson Perry’s Smash Hits at the National Galleries in Edinburgh, or the pizza display at the Asda in Livingston (the cognoscenti ask for the “veggie supreme” – it’s essentially a Jackson Pollock with extra cheese). But, this week, an even more significant event came to the picturesque Highlands landscape to the west of Inverness.
You may not have heard of it, for it has received little or no publicity, but the hundreds of dogs gathered in the grounds of Guisachan House in Glen Affric may be the most unsettling piece of Zoomorphic art I have ever experienced, and I include in that the perturbing sculpture on the top of the St Nicholas Centre, which might be meant to be a whale.
To create this powerful installation, many hundreds of canines were in attendance, having gathered there from all over the world. It was curated to mark the 155th anniversary of the birth of the first golden retriever, the breed having been created in 1868 by the former owner of the now derelict stately home, Sir Dudley Marjoribanks. A sentence with enough upper-class whimsy to make PG Wodehouse blush, but which happens – like all great art – to be true.
The effect of this great conglomeration of flaxen fidos was truly eye-watering, especially for anyone suffering from pet hair allergies. While the full impact could only be gleaned in person, a particularly arresting work was simultaneously created, consisting of a video clip showing hundreds of corn-coloured canines tethered in place in front of a crumbling castle.
Hundreds of golden retrievers gathered at the ruins of the Guisachan House in Scotland on Thursday to mark the breed’s 155th anniversary. pic.twitter.com/ZtaOvzFX3T
— The Associated Press (@AP) July 16, 2023
A veritable field of doggy dreams for the animal lover; a vision of hell for the cynophobe. And no picnic for the participants, who vocally demonstrated their disapproval, or at least their boredom, in a chaotic, 15-second cacophony of barking and howling under baleful, stormy, skies.
Viewing the piece, one finds oneself with much to contemplate. As I watched, I was struck by what a powerful metaphor it was for the current state of the nation – a formerly steadfast edifice crumbling and in ruins, a pandemonium of maddened yelping from confused, excitable creatures, whom no one really understands. And, looming over the whole thing, the great question of the time: who, exactly, is going to get the job of cleaning up afterwards?
Truly, we are gone to the dogs.
I wept.
Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who missed USA v Vietnam because he snoozed his alarm
Put a thermostat under my oxter and a flannel on my forehead, because Old Kenny has come down with football fever! That’s right, the greatest shoe on earth is back, with the Women’s World Cup kicking off under down under in Australia and New Zealand. I’ll be honest, I don’t understand how the ball stays on the pitch when they’re playing upside down, but I’d be the first to admit I’m not no expert on psychics.
The women’s game keeps on growing, and I classes myself as a true Mesopotamian man, not one of those old Dynamos who wants to keep football as some kind of boy’s club. There’s no place for sexualism in football, and I totally respect the skill and athleticism of the players in the top flight, which is why I is an aphid watcher of the beautiful game being played by the beautiful ladies.
Unless the games is being played at silly o’clock while I’m still in my scratcher. Or it clashes with the croquet. Or the golf. Or some breaking transfer gossip on Sky Sports News.
England’s women, the Lionesseses, kick off their World Cup campaign with a tarantulising clash with Hitachi, and Old Kenny will be sure to watch all their games with exactly the same attitude as I has when the Old Enema men’s team take the field – by aggressively cheering on whoever they is playing.
It’s a shame the Scottish women didn’t qualify for the tournament, but that only shows to go how they is easily the equals of the men’s team.
To be fair, Stevie Crawford’s lads is enjoying a great run of form at the minute though – so here’s hoping that they can land a spot at next year’s Euros and fulfil our national dentistry: drawing with the holders before getting pumped by everyone else, and sent home with our legs between our tails.