The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs.
Kevin Cash, money-saving expert and king of the grips
I da ken much aboot art. I may be a frequent visitor tae Aiberdeen Art Gallery, but I only ging in for a free heat and tae collect some lavvy paper fae the gents.
But even I wiz excited tae read aboot the missing 16th century painting worth 13 million quid fit wiz last seen in Peterheid.
“Last seen in Peterheid” is a phrase that could apply tae a lot o’ stuff, ken fit I mean? Nae jist paintings, but purloined goods, misplaced HGVs and, efter a night oot I hid up there twa year ago, my ain personal dignity.
Onywye, the painting is cried The Pool of Bethesda. I’ve nae heard o’ that een but nae doot it got mothballed aboot the same time as the Bon Accord Baths. The 12 foot by six foot canvas disappeared fae the Arbuthnot Museum sometime in the 1960s, and it’s Melbourne University fa are trying tae hunt it doon.
It’s hid quite the history; painted in Venice by Paolo Veronese in the 18th century, then bocht by Catherine The Great, fa gied it awa tae the British Consul tae Russia. He ended up as Rector o’ Aberdeen University, but ‘at’s nae how it got tae Peterheid.
Of course, ab’dy kens Picasso’s Blue Period wis inspired fan the 20th century cubist spent a long wikend at Boddam, but that’s by the by
It got sold in Edinburgh tae a mannie fae Newburgh cried Robert Black, but even ‘at’s nae how it got tae Peterheid. He emigrated tae Australia and taen it wi’ him tae Melbourne afore it ended up in the hands o’ James Volum, fa seems tae hiv won it in a raffle.
It’s nae every day a multimillion pound artwork by an Italian renaissance painter is linked tae the Blue Toon. Of course, ab’dy kens Picasso’s Blue Period wis inspired fan the 20th century cubist spent a long wikend at Boddam, but that’s by the by.
So, for the sake o’ international relations atween Scotland and Australia, I hiv been up a’ night making a 12 fit by six fit copy on my dot matrix printer.
Ink is affa steep so I hiv coloured it in wi’ the felt-tip pens fit I liberated fae the wheelie bin roon the back o’ Sunnybank Primary. And my pal Mick the Pill his an aul’ snooker table wi’ the legs sawn aff tae stick it tae fan it’s dry. It looks jist like a picter frame. If you ignore the pockets.
Will it look exactly like the original? Weel, here’s the beauty o’ it – there’s naeb’dy alive has seen the original, so fa wid ken? But I’m obviously nae gaan tae be asking £13 million for it. I’m nae greedy, I’ll be happy wi’ half that!
Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who only ever kicked more talented opponents
The modren footballer has so much more to worry about than I done back when I was playing. I used to wake up, have a quick nine holes at Hazlehead, go to training, go to the bookies and then go past the Dolphin chipper for supper.
Every week you hear about yet another player who has said or done something bappit on Snapagram or Instabook
But, these days, the players have dieticians, physicians and sports psychopaths controlling their every move they make. The lads has hardly got a minute to call their own.
And it’s when they do have time to themselves that today’s soccer stars face their biggest threat. I’m talking, of course, about the dangers of social medium.
Every week you hear about yet another player who has said or done something bappit on Snapagram or Instabook, and the latest to fall foul is West Ham’s tough-tackling Kurt Zouma, who inextricably posted a video of his self booting his cat.
Rightly, Zouma is now up to his neck in hot bother. His club fined him two weeks’ wages, his sponsors has pulled out, and it says without going that his cats has been taken off him by the RSVP.
The Great British public are pretty forgiving of their sporting heroes – just look at Paula Radcliffe, still a superstar even after that business with her doing her business during the London marathon – but misusing aminals is the one thing we won’t not never tolerate.
We wasn’t no angels back in the day – but anything we done we done to each other – all good clean fun without anyone getting hurt or the risk of some numpty filming it and uploading it to FaceTube.
One of our favourite pranks was to hide poor wee Gordon Strachan’s Y-fronts on the top shelf of his locker. What a rage he used to get into, but he never kicked any of us on the bum. Because he couldn’t reach!
