The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs, written by Andrew Brebner and Simon Fogiel.
Tanya Souter, lifestyle correspondent
I dinna ken aboot youse but, spikkin as somebody that disnae ken onythin aboot running the country and fit the hell’s gan on generally, it is magic tae see that ab’dy in the UK Government is in the same boat as me. It’s good tae see that, despite that, ye can still end up as prime minister, even if it is only for a wee shottie.
Fit a wik, eh? The nesty een wi the name fit rhymed wi Cruella quit. Seems a bit o’ an overreaction tae ging on a rant about tofu-eating wokeratis and then resign. I hiv nivver been tae Wokerati myself, but I bet it’s a lovely country.
And fit a stooshie an a’. Reports of fighting and scuffles in the lobby. Fit is something that am well used to in my lobby, but usually only at Hogmanay.
I’m normally tuned in tae ma soaps midweek, but I got the hale quota o’ skirlin and shoutin and fisticuffs fae BBC Parliament coverage. Fa needs Phil Mitchell fan ye’ve got Thérèse Coffey pittin the heed in?
I half expected tae see Rees-Mogg climbing onto the Palace of Westminster roof wi a top hat on and nae shirt tae bellow at the plebs below. I da think that happened, but I did pop tae the loo at one point, so I may hiv missed that bittie.
I’ve nae seen such mintil scenes since the last time I stotted into a kebab shop on Bridge Street at 3am. Even the nice mannie fae Channel 4 news wiz caught swearin. It looks like we are moving towards a world far political debates is settled by hae’in a punch up, which I heartily approve o’.
So, that’s Truss oot the door, after 44 days. I hiv a leftover curry fit has been sat in my fridge for longer than she’s been in cherge. And wid hiv been as much use.
There’ll be a lot o’ ministers nervously cradling their subsidised pints o’ beer this wik. Nae that I hae much sympathy
There’ll be a lot o’ ministers nervously cradling their subsidised pints o’ beer this wik. Nae that I hae much sympathy. Maist o them hiv multiple jobs and ye dinna see ony o them queueing up in the foodbanks, div ye?
But I div feel a bit sorry for Truss. I recognise the rapidly blinking and shell-shocked look on her coupon, as ‘at is exactly fit I end up like efter the holidays in October fan I’ve got tae keep my kids occupied for twa wiks.
Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who has a mandate to go in feet first
Even a try-hard sports fan like me can get distracted by the front page headlights in a week like this. But, as the government lurches from crisis to crisis, there’s been plenty of sporting stories to sink your teeth into as well.
My old club, the Dandies, booked themselves a semi-final slot when they took the sting out of Patrick Thistle on Wednesday night. The gaffer, Jim Goodwin, has fairly brought some of the goodfeel factor back to Pittodrie, and I can’t wait til we head to Glasgow in January to take on The Rangers in their own barn yard.
Of course, old Kenny is the proud owner of some national records too, including my 37 career red cards
Speaking of The Rangers, I felt sorrow for their former gaffer, Stevie Cheese, who had quite liberally gone from hero to Villan when he left Ibrox for Villa Park. But, rather like the M6 what he would have drived on on his way to Birmingham, things has gone south for old Slippy, and he’s got his jotters.
It’s always a shame when it doesn’t work out for a manager who leaves a club for postures new, but it is a statuary reminder that the grass ower there is not always greener than the grass what you is already stooding on.
Someone else I felt sorrow for this week was Scottish runner Eilish McColgan, who managed to set a new British 10k record in the Great Scottish Run at the start of the month. Except, she didn’t. Turns out the course was 150 metres short, which means her record doesn’t count.
Of course, old Kenny is the proud owner of some national records too, including my 37 career red cards. I’ll always remember the day I broke the record by getting my 25th for snapping some wee nyaff that played for Rothes when I was at Locos. Although I felt a bit bad about the lad’s torn cartilage, we had a good shindig afterwards to mark the occasion.
You can imagine my shock when I learned that the red card was being descended, because the whistler had written my number down wrong in his notebook. Not only did I lose the record, but I was back in the squad for the Brora game the next Saturday.
This was especially tricky, as me and the lovely Melody was booked on a flight at 4pm for a cheeky weekend in London. Luckily, Old Kenny managed to get the record back AND catch our flight after I stuck the heid on Brora’s centre half at a corner in the seventh minute. Good times!
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