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The Flying Pigs: Why is Jacob so angry at Unicef helping our children? He has six mouths to feed!

Jacob Rees-Mogg reclining in the House of Commons last year.
Jacob Rees-Mogg reclining in the House of Commons last year.

Ron Cluny, Official Council Spokesman


As the council’s spin doctor, I keep a close eye on politics at all levels. In part to see if there are any national stories that need an immediate local response but also so I can look at the worst excesses of the political classes and think: “Working for Barney Crockett’s nae sae bad.”

Until recently my eye was drawn primarily to the other side of the Atlantic. However, Jacob Rees-Mogg has just reminded me that we in the UK do not want for idiotic roasters with necks of solid brass.

The bold Jacob has seen fit to censure Unicef, one of the most prominent social welfare organisations in the world, claiming that it should be “ashamed” for “playing politics” by funding payments to Britain’s most underprivileged children. The organisation now has the distinction of joining Marcus Rashford and Jamie Oliver on Rees-Mogg’s naughty step, guilty of the crime of actually caring about the kind of stuff that his government is supposed to, but doesn’t.

You can see why Rees-Mogg is angry. When you divide your time between a 17th-Century manor and a town house round the back of Westminster Abbey, Britain probably does seem pretty great.

When you think that public money exists to be given out to your chums, or is yours to squander on a ruinous Brexit, the suggestion that you should spend it on the needy would seem impertinent. But when you think like that, then you are not fit for office.

I am glad that Unicef are playing politics. They can stop when the government stops playing charades.

Professor Hector Schlenk, of the Bogton Institute

As a scientist, people are always asking me questions, and this week they’ve mostly been asking me about the A68. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I reply. “You’re much better off taking the A1 to Darlington.” And then I laugh. And, once I have given them a brief guide to the primary trunk routes on the eastern side of the country, so do they, albeit primarily to fill the silence.

The A68 in question is not, of course, the road from Edinburgh to Jedburgh. It’s a colossal iceberg floating in the South Atlantic.

Most sea-ice breaking off from Antarctica is content to idly bob around in the waters surrounding the frozen continent – like an unwelcome piece of toddler poop in the bath. But A68 has a spot of wanderlust and has headed for the balmier climes of the South Atlantic Ocean.

“Whatevs” the youth of today might say. Well, they might feel differently if the 100-mile-long frozen behemoth were looming large on their horizon, as it is for the residents of British Overseas Territory South Georgia. The iceberg threatens to cause major disruption to food supplies and could result in a catastrophic loss of life. Thank goodness that life on the island consists mainly of penguins, skuas and the occasional shag.

Naturally, climatologists are desperately worried about icebergs filling our oceans like deadly croutons in cold, salty soup. But the good news for residents of the South Atlantic is that as the sea is 2C warmer than it was 100 years ago, they’ll melt more quickly. However, as sea levels inevitably rise as a result, it’s bad news for the residents of low lying places such as The Maldives, south-east Asia – and the foot of Polmuir Road.

Kevin Cash, money saving Expert and King of the Grips

Weel, Aiberdeen has been in the national news again this wik, ending up wi’ Level 3 restrictions. Pubs is banned fae selling booze, and hiv tae close at 6pm. But, on the bright side, my sink is full o’ bubbling 160 proof hooch as my hame-brew business ramps up again. This latest batch his a festive theme, being distilled fae Christmas tree off-cuts and cranberry jeely.

But we’ve also been in the news because a researcher at the uni has found some bitties o’ wid fae the Great Pyramid at Giza hidden inside an aul’ cigar box.

Noo, it’s nae often onything o’ historical interest happens in Aiberdeen, unless it’s some aul’ building being demolished or falling doon on its ain, so this is exciting stuff, the discovery o’ a lang lost artefact fit naeb’dy iver thocht wid turn up in Aiberdeen.

It’s a bit like finding a bittie o’ Bishop Elphinstone’s belly button fluff.

Noo OK, at first glance it’s jist some broken bitties o’ wid, but these bitties o’ wid hiv been carbon dated tae 3,000 BC.

So they are ancient in years, priceless in value and easily faked tae mak a bittie cash.

So, ‘at’s fit wye I’ve taen a hacksaw tae next door’s bird box and hid a rake in my grunny’s glory hole, far I found an aul’ tin fae Isaac Benzies. In fact, that’s foo we solved wir ain archaeological mystery. Specifically, far her spare set o’ falsers wint til in 1992.

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