Category Archives: Friends and Family

Spanner in the Works

Pals,

Having tasked Jinx to go off to Brel today ,to buy us both tickets for Lol Coxhill, he has just phoned me to come up with a most unusual excuse not to.

Apparently yesterday lunchtime while crossing Bothwell/Wellington Street corner – on a green man light- a boy racer decided to see how high in the air he could knock our big front loading chum. Quite high by many bystanders’ accounts! Declining an ambulance, by the time they’d both made their statements he couldn’t walk, so Mrs Bed had to take him to the Western where they eventually confirmed ’tissue damage, but no broken bones’

He’s on crutches and cheery enough but has to keep his weight off the knee joint for a few weeks. Removal of socks seems to be his biggest concern at the mo’. That and not being able to listen to the brand new Van der Graaf album ’cause Fiona’s at home looking after him. I’ll keep you posted.

Coronation Street

On a COMPLETELY different note, due to a visiting mother-in law, I was exposed to half an episode of Coronation Street last night. The reason I mention it was the shock at how dire this peak hour programme actually is. This is quite honestly the first time I’ve seen this since the very early seventies when I lived in Parkhall. It may well have still been monochrome with Ena holding court in the snug, persecuting Minnie at very opportunity.
Normally the sight of that brick wall and the accompanying trumpet theme tune has me channel hopping before you can see the wee cat on the roof .I swear my jaw dropped, I’ve never seen such shite in ma puff.
It was like the wee play you used to get at the end of Crackerjack, only without Peter Glaze singing a Top Ten song in the pub style. The dialogue was indeed inspired
‘Woah, this bank bill, look at it.They’re charging me like a wounded bull!’
or
‘Him? He’s so smooth, a snake with an ice-pick couldn’t climb up him
Clearly the writer must obviously be a zoophile on drugs.
Absolutely appalling, bring back Albert Tatlock, I say.
Bring back The Skids, Bring back, oh bring back.
Bring back my bonnie to me!

Desert Island Discs

Chums,When I have a rare spare moment, one of my favourite websites to mull and ponder over is Desert Island Discs and exactly what celebrities would take along with them.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/factual/desertislanddiscs.shtml

Imagine having the discipline to boil your favourites down to a ‘top eight’!
I’d have trouble trimming mine back to a top eighty!!! Don’t think I could last too long with those Desert Island Dicks, Jeremy Clarkson or even worse Gordon Ramsay. Check those choices out. How can a man with a supposedly sophisticated palette have such shockingly banal taste in music? There’s not one of the foul-mouthed ex-Range’ tunes that would ever trouble the Davidson Dansette. While not quite reaching the depths of Worrell-Thompson, Harriott or Nairn, Ramsay has now suddenly dropped below Oliver, Stein and Rhodes in my Top Ten TV Chefs (said list being a well thumbed and constantly amended annex of The Big Row Book)
Have to dash now, a speed-boating Satan has appeared back on the horizon and I am once again reminded to stand, on my hands, elbow deep in shite. ‘Tea Break’s over, lads!’
Yours, permanently trapped in that purgatory of punchlines from old jokes,
Roy Plomley

p.s Of course it’s taken for granted, anyone wishing to share their fantasy DIDs (snigger) with me, are more than welcome.

Friends reUnited

Hullo youse See Aitch Eschers!!,
Anyone these days ever hear from the likes of Tadger, Jinx, Irvie, Steed, Tam Davidson, Manus, Plum, Farquhar ‘n Gracie, Pansy, Lesley Shields, Wee Psycho Craig, Donnie MacDonald , Edgar and his big pal Broughton?
Me neither!
Shortly after leaving school (and The Blues Club), I set up a nearby gay love nest with the Jannie, This was quite the ‘talk of the steamie’ at the time, yet strangely only got a quarter column in the Clydebank Press and even then it was tucked pages away between a transcript of Scotland’s First Minister T.H.Lawson’s Inaugural speech and a bemusing account of some of The Cleddans Young Team’s botched ‘suicide bombing’ of both The Atlantis and Singers Café.
Considered, at the time, to be an early Seventies version of Ginsburg and Burroughs, the Jannie ‘Dee’ ‘n’ me ingested vast quantities of industrial strength narcotics, Fowlers Wee Heavies and grooved along to the then biggest band in the world (a fourteen piece Dutch brass band called Van der Graaf and his Generators) All this before tattooing each other’s bodies with henna CHS logos and sending out to the Parkhall shops for French loaves, Fry’s Creams and a Pink Times.
Changed days, huh?
These days, such Gary Glitter-like teenage poofery would be frowned upon by the PC polis, but back then it was just looked upon as one of the Jannie’s perks, a bit like free coal and those strange wee bottles of milk that made all the little consumers look somewhat like giants.
I’m sincerely sorry to everyone who ever thought I might cut it as an Air Traffic Controller!!!!!
Since then I have never worked for anyone but myself, apart from a fortnight during the Ice Cream Wars when I rode shotgun for Jimmy The Wallsie Man.
Mid seventies, I painted my nails black, joined a local proto punk band “Kenny and his X-Legs” and recorded the now notorious Tex-Mex album ‘ Tijuana, si ma Dad’s Shirts?’
I’m currently working on a Beta release of the software for my infamous Time Machine. Remember the one that you all sniggered at while I shepherded the herd of radioactive mice into the school basement?
Powered entirely from entry level Meccano, a second hand Mamod , a Sinclair C5 and a skip full of off-cuts from foil tops gathered from the gutters surrounding the majestic brick façade of the Coop Creamery. It’s a rather curious side effect that the ‘red tops’ seem to enhance the space/time infindibulum corruption factor a tad more!.
In short, it’s a wee belter and certainly leaves the Tardis on the starting blocks.
I’ve had a few exploratory trial runs and without wanting to tempt fate must say that it seems to perform rather well.
Tonight I’m going out on a limb and, don’t laugh, but for a side bet, I’m going to go back again and see if I can actually persuade Graeme Souness into signing Terry Butcher.
Giving Jesus that Tam Shepherds’ “Water-to-Wine” kit, last week, seems to have had no impact upon us here in the present at all and the ‘Surprise Your Chums With Stigmata’ brochure certainly brought a lovely wee smile to his face.
Who knows? I’ll just have to tread carefully.
The good people of Planet Zam-Zam last night,indeed for the umpteenth time now, have once again elected me as Best Pope they’ve ever had.
Next time out, I want to go back and see if there’s any way I can possibly circumvent Churchill’s assassination in 1942 (just think, if the Nazi’s hadn’t won that Second War, who knows what might have happened, we could probably have had a man on the moon by now, perhaps even a woman in Number 10 and Lee Harvey Oswald wouldn’t have so easily broken Eric Caldow’s leg).
Back soon ,
Peace, Love and Underachievement
Rupert