The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs, written by Andrew Brebner and Simon Fogiel.
Tanya Souter, lifestyle guru
I da ken about youse, but I’ve seen a lot o’ folk getting real worked up aboot yon Storm Gerrit only coming wi’ a yella warning (bring in yer washing; dinna ging oot in yer sliders) instead o’ a reed een (fill yer sandbags and lash doon yer trampoline).
Noo, I’m nae being funny, but I dinna ‘hink it maitters, dis it? A storm’s a storm, and unless ye absolutely hiv till, ye shouldnae ging oot in it. The sensible thing is tae dae fit I dae: stay in bed in the Oodie ye got fae Sunty files working through the rest o’ yer Christmas chocolate, cos it is an emergency and so ‘at is allowed.
If ye div ging oot, something affa might happen. Look at my pal Big Sonya; she wiz doon in Dundee shoplifting her booze for Hogmanay, and cos o’ the storm she wis stranded on the A9 ‘at lang the bobbies caught up wi’ her!
Mind you, it dis seem we’re getting these nesty storms a’ the time these days, dis it? They can cause huge devastation tae folks’ property and mak ye wint tae lock yerself in ’til it calms doon – fit maks them the meteorological equivalent o’ my Jayden fan the internet’s nae working.
Still we wiz lucky ‘is time – nae power cuts, so nae loss o’ Xbox. We micht hae lost a few roof slates, but at least the hoose is still standing.
On a day lik yon, there’s nithin tae dae but get torn in tae yer booze. And, spikin’ o’ that, I see the big thing for the new year is that shops is gan tae be allowed tae sell pints o’ wine. Apparently this is a benefit of Brexit, along wi’ nae food standards and sewage in wir rivers, and means we’re noo free tae buy it by the traditional British system o’ pints and fluid ounces fit naebdy uses unless it’s for beer or milk.
I wiz actually kinda excited by this news, cos ab’dy kens, compared tae the size o’ a gless o’ Frascati, a pint is massive. But then I looked it up and found oot that, in fact, a pint bottle is aboot 20% smaller than a normal een. Fit a chick!
It’s jist anither example o’ product shrinkage that’s been dressed up as good news. It’s bad enough that the bottom o’ the Quality Street tin arrives mair quickly than it used til, but noo they’re trying tae sneak titchy bottles o’ wine past us. At is unasseptable, at.
So, I’m nae gaan tae be buying my wine by the pint in 2024. I’m going tae be getting it cheap fae Big Sonya, fan she gets oot o’ the jail.
Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who doesn’t mind a bit of surface water
What a frustrating few days it’s been for the Red Army. When we first seen how congealed our festive fixture list was looking at the end of December, we was worried about the Dandies having too much games and not enough steam left in their legs.
Who’d have thunk that when it come, we’d be complaining about the lack of fit matches, not the lack of match fitness? (I wish I had come up with that line, but I never. It was the lovely Melody what says I should put it in my column, which I done. Crevice where it’s due.)
First, our Christmas trip down to Dens Park was cried off about an hour before kick-off. I had headed down to Dundee with Dunter Duncan and Basher Greig, and we’d been enjoying some pre-match refreshments (pints of black and tan with crème de menthe chasers) in the Old Bank Bar.
As 3pm drawed closer, we put on a braised face (and our waterproofs) and set off for the ground. We’d barely got far enough for me to need a pee when we found out the ref had declared the playing surface unplayable for the players to play on.
Things got ugly when we got back to the pub, as some wee nyaffs had jumped in our graves and taken our table. Thankfully, things resolved theirselves in a civilised manner when Basher and Dunter asked the boys outside and chinned them.
This unexpected period of interactivity sets the gaffer, Bazza Robson, up for the perfect excuse if St Mirren turn us over on Saturday
Then, on Wednesday, it was AFC’s turn to cry off the home game with Motherwell, as the nation was being battered by Storm Gerritupye. The weather was honking, so it was no surprise to me when the game got the hook.
But this unexpected period of interactivity sets the gaffer, Bazza Robson, up for the perfect excuse if St Mirren turn us over on Saturday. It would surely be the first time in history that a manager could blame too much football and not enough football for losing games within a fortnight of each other.
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