Before you settle down to an evening's entertainment and fundraising for Africa with Comic Relief, may I ask you to spare a thought this Red Nose Day for destitute Scotsmen.
These proud veterans of the Battle of Bannockburn (Ed - is this right?), too proud to work, too drunk to beg, can be found talking to their imaginary friends inside cans of Special Brew in the vicinity of the railway station in London's Kings Cross. Or raving incoherently on blogs under false names, wearing C.U.Jimmy hats and inventing degrees from Oxford or Cambridge (or the LSE). Some with artistic talent try their luck in Paris, but the fumes from the paint spray cans soon addle their brains and before they know it they have got on the wrong train and ended up in Belgium instead of Provence. For them there is no turning back.
The financial crisis has been particularly hard on Scottish bank employees. One poor Scotsman, let's call him "Fred", was made redundant at 50, with the government contesting his right to a pension. It is only a matter of time before "Fred" is found slumped in an alleyway soaked in his own urine. Or somebody else's.
I appeal to Sir Billy Connolly, Sir Sean Connery, Craig Ferguson, Ewan McGregor, Lulu and all the other tax-dodging sweaty socks to push your short arms into your deep pockets and gie us the fuckin' money, pal.
Otherwise I'll get my friend Jimmy Bastard to send the boys roond.
These proud veterans of the Battle of Bannockburn (Ed - is this right?), too proud to work, too drunk to beg, can be found talking to their imaginary friends inside cans of Special Brew in the vicinity of the railway station in London's Kings Cross. Or raving incoherently on blogs under false names, wearing C.U.Jimmy hats and inventing degrees from Oxford or Cambridge (or the LSE). Some with artistic talent try their luck in Paris, but the fumes from the paint spray cans soon addle their brains and before they know it they have got on the wrong train and ended up in Belgium instead of Provence. For them there is no turning back.
The financial crisis has been particularly hard on Scottish bank employees. One poor Scotsman, let's call him "Fred", was made redundant at 50, with the government contesting his right to a pension. It is only a matter of time before "Fred" is found slumped in an alleyway soaked in his own urine. Or somebody else's.
I appeal to Sir Billy Connolly, Sir Sean Connery, Craig Ferguson, Ewan McGregor, Lulu and all the other tax-dodging sweaty socks to push your short arms into your deep pockets and gie us the fuckin' money, pal.
Otherwise I'll get my friend Jimmy Bastard to send the boys roond.
This appeal is brought to you by the unofficial Belgian branch of ScotsCare.
28 comments:
E'en now salty tears are dripping on my keyboard.
Aye, nae bother hen... ah'm packed and ready to skelp any wan who isnae willing to put their haund in their jay-ket pockets!
Reet?
Daphne,
Do you have any idea how long I waited at that airport?
Unfortunately airport security does not speak Spanglish and my subsequent ardent protests went ignored as I was escorted unceremoniously out the door (while people applauded mind you).
It was later explained to me that the steamer I lifted from baggage actually belonged to Delores Wilson-Bolinari; an irritating woman who speaks some kind of jibberish I'm unfamilar with.
After being released on my own reconnaissance, my attorney (who spoke very little English), shouted each word as if I would surely understand what he was talking about, "BASE SA BALL HAS BEEEN BERRI BERRI GUUD TO ME."
WTF seemed to be an appropriate respone until I saw the expression on his face.
You'll be happy to know I'm back in the states now and I'm pissed with Pierre because I don't have my chocolate. When I told them who recommended them to me, their repsonse was, "Oh Hell No!"
I'm gonna wish you a lovely weekend Daphne before this comment morphs into a post.
U
Daphne, I hope you know I'm teasing...I did visit the ScotsCare web site and they seem to do a worthwhile effort to help.
Thanks for the 411 :-)
U
I already gave.
I can do a pretty good impersonation of Lulu... but alas, I have neither her money or hairdresser...
Sx
For a moment there, I thought you were talking about Dr Maroon...
Dr Maroon is another victimised Scot. The Irish bloggers are furious with him for calling them "gits". There are worse names to be called than that, and Maroon has no control over his language in any case. I wish we could give him a pension.
Daphne - your generosity and cheer is gladdening to the heart. On behalf of my indigent countrymen everywhere, awrra best dollface.
Pat, did you greet over Comic Relief? Some of those wee bairns were heartbreaking.
Jimmy, I knew I could count on you. I suspect you are the sort of Scotsman who will never be destitute. You'd just go out and rob a bank. Only make sure it's not the RBS, there's nothing left! If you do see Sir Fred about, give him a kick in the goolies from me.
U, sorry babe, something came up. People are always getting Delores and I mixed up. That gold on chocolate interlinked DWB logo was my idea, she and Louis Vuitton copied it.
Clarissa, I know, dear, I know.
Scarlet, she and Annie Lennox look damn good for a couple of auld birds, is it the Highland Spring water I wonder? Or being very rich?
Kim, if the C.U. Jimmy hat fits ...
GB, it's a very entertaining thread over at Maroon's. He'll do anything for attention, even drawing friendly fire.
Mme D, in certain parts of the Gorbals I am known as Saint Daphne of Buckfast. Or Daff Bags.
Haaaaa!! There's 5 groats and a deep-fried pizza on its way to you, Daphne dear, and I hope you'll distribute to the truly needy and now just keep it for when Che starts demanding his supper.
Poor fred
To confuse north and the south !
Scottish food against chips and chicories!
Sad intended :`(
I proffer a bag of pepperies, a few neeps (scarcely bogled) and utter discretion about the visits to that place we don't talk about round the back of the church in Auchtermuchtie in the company of a gentleman with a walrus moustache and a large black talking cat.
Jesus H! ScotsCare is for real! I had absolutely no idea. Someone must tell Maroon about this with all available haste. It is a lifeline, truly it is.
The only true way to help the Scotch is to fuck over their enemies and make them wear skirts as well.
Yes, I mean you, the late Edward I, the Norsemen, South American footballers and Sir Peter "Maxwell" Davies - if that is your real name.
[Ooh, another blog I can take offence at. Thank you so much Daphne, I was getting bored with pretending to be Irish at Maroon's, now I can pretend to be Scots.] I'm very sensitive because a bunch of Anglo-Normans were perfectly beastly to my ancestors, so can I have an apology?
Gadj, he knows better than to demand ANYTHING in this house. He is grateful for the crumbs from my table.
McCraber! Och! I'm sure I cannae guess who ye are, pal. Chicory is better known as Belgian endive for salad purposes, Crabtree. Good effort!
Kev, do you know the French and Poles give neeps to cattle and think eating root vegetables is as low as one can get? When the recession really kicks in they’ll be crawling to us for mashed swede.
BTW, can anyone back up McChe’s claim that swedes are called turnips in Scotland, parsnips are called forget-me-nots, and turnips are called mars bars?
Mrs P, it's in Covent Garden, you’d have thought they’d put it nearer to King’s Cross wouldn’t you, so they wouldn’t have so far to stagger with their can of Special Brew. It’s apparently the oldest charity in London, which shows you how long they have been coming down on the make.
Boyo, in the words of the bard, if you love somebody, set them free. I would happily step forward with my pinking shears and cut Scotland loose. With a following wind it might become part of Iceland.
Inky, I’m paying my dues to Caledonia in kind. Dunno why, I’m half Irish on both sides anyway. If you’re not Irish and not Scots, what’s your excuse?
Daphne: no not really it's all getting a bit formulaic, but thanks for reminding me to send a cheque. I'm not really hardhearted but there's nothing like seeing a celeb well up, to make my upper lip stiff as a board.
I can confirm that everything Ché says about turnips/neeps is true.
Now shut up already.
Jaime Murefeño dice :
Si, Ché hay totalamente razon.
Los neeps de Escoscia son los swedes de inglesia perfida.
Es historicalimente justo.
...now obviously, you want your neeps and your swedes separated, else they cannibalise each others groundwater, round about early april, ideally...
There are 340,000 thoosand Scots livin in London?! That's the population of Canada!
I have learned a wee bit aboot Scotland in movies like Trainspotting, Shallow Grave, Rob Roy, The Wicker Man, Braveheart, Local Hero, Highlander and Chariots Of Fire...and so I sing,
Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, an' a' that
The coward slave, we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
Our toil's obscure and a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp
The man's the gowd for a' that
Pat, you getting down wid de kids a bit too much man, what does "well up" mean in this context?
Jacob and Jaime, I think you've spent too much time with the end of a pencil up your jacksies.
Saintiago, a quick poke around in my herbaceous border and you think you're Bob Flowerdew.
Donn, Jesus McChrist, that's ten times the amount of NATO troops in Afghanistan! If they all rose up as one they could overthrow London in seconds. It would make a great Dr Who episode. Brigadoon is the film you must see to understand the real Scotland.
I can just imagine how much worse it is when winter bites.
Caché derrière un Bois-joli que l'on nomme aussi Bois-gentil ( Mezereon ou Paradise plan en anglais en français Daphné !!?)souple et légèrement pubescent à la jeune Écosse ...zut ! Écorce aromatique et à une floraison suave et entêtante d'une jolie couleur allant du blanc pur au rose violacé,
caché derrière disais-je ,
l'usurpateur est démasqué
"no passarane !!"
Tendrement
HAHAHAHA!
Of course Brigadoon! If they remade it now Bend Heather on the Hill would still be my favorite.
I forgot So I Married An Axe Murderer. "Weel ya luk at the size o that HEED!"
No No tis you are more with the kids thinking 'well up' is like 'well 'ard.'
I'm just an in between - too old for toys - too young for boys.
I meant tears welling up in one's eyes. You are a one!
I've got some empty ginger bottles if that helps??
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