You don’t expect to be pranked by the Ministry of Defence.
These are very professional and responsible people at the ministry so when I got a message on Monday saying that a Royal Navy ship called HMS Bulwark was being deployed to the islands to help with the chronic shortages of vessels at ferry company Caledonian MacBrayne, I was gobsmacked.
I thought that is some story. I had actually dialled the Royal Navy press office in Whitehall when I noticed the date on the calendar in front of me.
I double-checked it on my computer. April fool. By this time, the civil servant in the Whitehall media centre had not only answered the phone but was thinking she too was being pranked by a heavy breather.
That was me gasping for breath after I realised someone had got one over on me. She said: “I know there is someone there.
Please speak to me. I apologised and quickly mumbled that I had dialled the wrong number.
She said: “Ooh, poor you. You sound a bit stressed. Maybe you should take a break and have a cuppa, darling.”
Darling? That woman’s pity for me was oozing out of the phone.
The so-called prank was actually the work of journos at the UK Defence Journal and had a note at the foot of it confirming it was nonsense.
This was the second year that one did the rounds because our ferries are still not fixed – obviously.
That woman’s pity rubbed off on me because I now feel pity for our much put-upon first minister.
Humza’s new hate crime legislation is causing fury
Humza Yousaf’s new hate crime legislation is causing fury in the … well, everywhere.
Thought up on Nicola Sturgeon’s watch, she should be there to take the flak.
Of course, Za was the justice minister back in 2021. You can tell from their pained expressions that the defenders of the new act are actually expecting the worst.
People’s details are already being recorded because of allegations based solely on the opinions of their detractors. We hear that there will usually be no investigation or suspect interviews.
That is not justice. No one in the land can store your details without your consent – not even the hard-pressed polis.
The information commissioner, who can impose unlimited fines, will have a lot to say about it. I give it two years until the repeal. By then, Za will be long gone. I know that, he knows that, and I bet he can’t wait.
I couldn’t wait to see what the story was when I saw a headline in a weekly paper in the north. It said: “Minger from Tain ‘rubs shoulders with the Gods of British Cheese’.”
Knowing that a minger can be a most dreadful insult to a section of the population and having spent a few days over in Tain last year, I found everyone there to be absolutely lovely.
The clue, of course, was the gods of cheese. Minger can also describe a very strong smell in certain dairy products, particularly cheese.
Highland Fine Cheeses has produced a minger that was entered for the British Cheese Awards and has again become Best Scottish Cheese. Why? Let’s see.
It says that it’s ‘an oozy and pungent cheese with an orange annatto washed rind and creamy paste, hinting at flavours of the farmyard’.
Wait. Stop right there. My stomach is turning, and there’s a lot of it to turn. I do love farm-fresh flavours, but not of the yard. Congratulations guys, but mature cheddar is my limit.
April fool’s prank bites back
My attempts at April Fool’s pranks aren’t always mature.
I think hard about what to do. It’s all in the planning. Mrs X had mentioned that her favourite working shoes were a bit tight for her.
Late on Sunday, I tightly packed the toes of them with toilet paper.
She will be in a panic as she’ll think her shoes have shrunk even more, I giggled loudly to myself. Childish, I know, but for one day a year, it’s allowed.
When I came back at Monday lunchtime, that pair of shoes were by the back door, no doubt waiting to be chucked in the bin. Ha-ha.
So I enquired in the nicest possible way: “Er, darling? Are those your working shoes out there?”
“Oh yes,” she said, probably surprised by my sudden expression of affection.
“They have shrunk very badly so I’ve had to order a couple more pairs.
Oh, by the way, I couldn’t find my credit card but I found yours on your desk. I just ordered them, and those tops that I have been looking for, on your card.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
Then the killer blow that made me realise she had me sussed. She said: “I am sure that is alright with you … darling.”
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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