The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs, written by Andrew Brebner, Simon Fogiel and John Hardie.
J Fergus Lamont, arts correspondent
It has been a truly stupendous week for absurdism. You will not have heard of it, for it has received little or no publicity, but the latest performance art happening from noted situationist pranksters “The UK Government” must be their most baffling yet, and I include in that their previous zenith of surrealism, “Boris Johnson’s resignation speech”.
The group have created quite the stir with this latest production of carefully confected distraction.
The “Press Conference” – one of a series – features staging colour schemes to indicate “serious and tough” and prompts an involuntary response in the viewer – to wit: “That would be a lovely shade of blue for a feature wall” and: “I wonder if it’s a Farrow & Ball?”
A union flag hangs limply to the left and, in the centre of it all, once again, their favoured method of absurdist sculpture – the massive wooden lectern. I applaud the artisan who is obliged to produce a new one of these every few weeks, and always rises to the challenge of breathing fresh life into the project; clearly a job for life!
Previous examples of his or her work have been seen at various points in the last six months, each with a different performer (or “Prime Minister”), specially selected for their incomprehensible words and eccentric appearance. Although this squat, cubist effort was far from their finest work, lacking the Escher-esque complexity of the one which so elegantly reflected how we all felt at the end of the premiership of Liz Truss, it admirably conveyed the plodding mediocrity of the minds behind it.
On this occasion, we see a wooden lectern of unshowy design, surmounted by a rectangular panel bearing yet another three-word slogan. But, brilliantly, instead of the winsome circularity of “Brexit Means Brexit” or the unflinching machismo of “Strong And Stable”, we have the jarringly specific oddness of “Stop The Boats”.
These words, sitting within a red banner on a larger rectangle, immediately bring one thought forcefully to mind: “Blimey. Call My Bluff has let itself go.”
Of course, the true power of the phrase comes from its thrilling lack of meaning – three words which make little sense in isolation, and even less when put in context. Question follows question.
Which boats? I wondered. Does this also apply to hovercraft? What about pedalos? And, of course: aren’t there more pressing issues to be concerned about? As if those currently struggling to heat their homes or locate the last tomato in the shop could give a hoot about any boat, apart, of course, from the ones which used to bring us fruit and vegetables and seasonal workers, but which don’t come anymore.
The performance continued when a child dressed as a man in a suit came on stage to stand behind the lectern and pretend to be very cross and unreasonable, in a more than passable pastiche of demagoguery.
I wept.
Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit with a fire in his belly and a pack of Rennies on his bedside table
It’s been another tipsy-turvy week in the world of football, with coupon-busting results and pundits speaking out on Twitter, grabbing the headlines at both ends of the papers. Old Kenny is here once again to help my regulatory readers chart a course through these truculent waters.
When Liverpool stuck Man United last weekend, I don’t think there was not nobody what seen that result coming. I wish I had seen it coming, because I would have made a fortune at the bookies. Losing 7-0 is a proper hiding, and I can only imagine the roasting the lads got in the dressing room afterwards.
Back in Fergie’s day the players got the hairdryer treatment, but I think he’d have needed a blast furnace after a spanking like that! Thankfully, when Fergie was my gaffer at Pittodrie, we never got the hairdryer treatment. He just used to shout at us.
Good heavens, this is beyond awful. https://t.co/f0fTgWXBwp
— Gary Lineker 💙💛 (@GaryLineker) March 7, 2023
Footballer-turned-TV-host Gary Lineker has been on the front pages this week after he Twittered about the UK Government’s plans to stop folks rowing a dinghy in the sea. I thought it was a decent idea – I mean, have you seen what happens in The Meg with Jason Statham?
But, if I has understood things proper, Lineker says, he says the language used to justify the policy is like something out of 1930s Germany, and the people who made up the policy got real upset when he says that. Because he is right.
Thankfully, Old Kenny would never get slagged off for tropical Twittering. Partly because I don’t do no punnetry on the BBC (not after that misunderstanding with Hazel Irvine) and so my impracticality isn’t an issue, but mostly because I know naff all about polistical matters.
For example, I thought the Cuban Missile Crisis was when Ian Scanlon and Drew Jarvis got chucked out for flinging cigars at each other in the Ardoe after we won the Drybrough Cup in 1980.
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