Some people like to rock, some people like to roll, But movin’ and a groovin’ gonna satisfy my soul Let’s have a party, oooooh, let’s have a party

A feelgood lyric there from Wanda Jackson, ‘the first lady of rock’n’roll’ and did you know that she first toured, in the fifties, when she was 18, with Elvis Presley. Trusting parents, or what?

Oh, and L frae Troon, I appreciate all your suggestions. Don’t worry. I don’t worry about possible personal comments, I just do lunch. (Almost a lyric in itself, as a twelve bar blues, guitar  heroes)

And it’s been a good week, but much of it commercially confidential. But I can tell you things like I’m going to my first ever Breakfast Networking Event next week. Eh, what’s breakfast?

But it doesn’t stop things happening around me. Plus will I have major anno to make end of June or will it be a major disappointment?

Tuesday, for example, there I was in ASDA discussing the price of sliced salami with Jaymi (you have no idea how many versions of that line I had to run past BBC Al, the blog’s bad taste pal. See pre-recording the blog? It’s a nightmare. Ask Jonathan Ross) Anyway, as I was saying…….when the tannoy went, “All Staff. Code 10. Clothing.”

Yes. It was a Harry Hill moment. A fight. Girl on Girl since you ask. No. Not a pretty sight. I made an excuse and left….just in case. I try not to get involved.

And then there was Sunday. 

As many of you know I was a guest of Celtic plc at the Hearts match last week. Boardroom hospitality (no tomato juice), a seat in the Directors’ Box (ever wished the ground would swallow you up?) and a conversation with Rod Stewart (‘Hi John’, ‘Hi Rod’ was roughly it), but did I know Wee Gordon Strachan was about to leave the club?

Well, yes, I did. The taxi driver on the way to the ground told me. His brother’s son-in-law knows the chef who defrosts the prawns for the cocktails that they serve at that table in the Brother Walfrid Restaurant next to the table the depute assistant head turnstile attendant uses. That is a source and a half.

‘So, Son Brian, when you were very young, your dad, was he a typical divorced dad, taking you to the park and places?’ ‘No. He took me to corporate hospitality.’

Me? I didn’t do my first free bar until I was eighteen and at University and that was a proper optics thing, not free yellow wine in plastic cups. Not, Jung Wan, that there’s anything wrong with drinking out of plastic cups. And thanks, btw, for the non-advice. I am putting it into practice this week…..just in case.

Incidentally, another first rule of journalism is that you do not get drunk before an event. Journalists buy, journalists ply. By the time I hit my alcoholic gap year I wasn’t a practising journo, but I was never a lecturer. I was a tutor. Accuracy, accuracy, accuracy.

And since I’m pre-recording this I can’t possibly comment on the result of tonight’s BGT. Naw, today is about ‘drinking’ down Byres Road and then getting ready for tomorrow’s Cumbernauld (Keeping It) Fun Day when I might meet Missie K’s family and friends, my gd frnd clr’s family and friends, and the Dykeenies would be a bonus 😀

Prostate Cancer Charity? Ours is the stand with the black tablecloth. Seriously. I’m looking forward to it, and it’s an amazing way to celebrate a strange anniversary. 

Incidentally, just before Holly Steel broke down in last night’s BGT, Simon Cowell gives her a sign…. a chopping hand. Watch it. That’s a factoid.

And that’s a seamless seque into which has just returned from its own mini-recess. My own little column this week comes from an idea suggested by an academic called Kerry, albeit unwittingly, but I like to give credit where credit’s due. ‘Thanks’ is such a nice, simple word. isn’t it? No-one could possibly misconstrue it, could they? That’s not a ‘dig’. No. 

Y’see I don’t do ‘digs’ at people. I’m the kinda nice guy who, earlier this week phoned a wrong number and left a message on the answering machine. C’est tout que je peux dire.

Incidentally, for those of you who are interested in the rustic but male editors of P/H, for that is how I see them, one has spent the week fighting off the Korean World of Warcraft Goldfarmers (eh?) and the other described himself to me as a ‘neopolitan ice cream’. I’m supposed to be meeting up with them this week. I’m the sensible looking one! 

Other factoids? ‘Muesli is more carcinogenic than Coco Pops.’ Pass it on. See if it works. I copied that from a magazine. I’ve still to try it out. I’m also about to try out an M&S curry and pilau rice that are supposed to cook for twenty minutes but at different temperatures. Eh? And I’ve got cooking down on my CV.

Now who gave me advice on my CV? Oh, yes. And it may yet work. As might I.

But talking of original work, can I say a big well done to Erik the Floodstalker for his triumphs in The Write Stuff Awards. Erik the Scoop does not sound quite as healthy, but well deserved. As is the whisky I keep promising you.

Just as well deserved are the recent nice things said about Glasgow’s West End and the Ubiquitous Chip, which I still think is Glasgow’s best restaurant. Did I once offer? Yes. I did and all offers still stand, as long as I do. 

So, Vampire Slayer, many thanks for yours….offer that is. (It only works as an innuendo if I don’t explain it)

Less well deserved are any thoughts for those MPs still being exposed by the Daily Telegraph, for whom Julie Kirkbride worked. Although I couldn’t help but stem a tear for the Tory MP, him who claimed for the servants’ quarters, when he started an explanation of his conduct by saying, ‘But I sold my first house for only £1.3 million, therefore…..’ I switched the TV off as quickly as Amanda Holden switches on her tears.

And finally, I don’t know when you will read this, but I am reasonably full of emulsion about this cancerly stand I’m doing at Cumbernauld for all sorts of reasons. If you’re passing, please drop in. I feel a I owe a lot to a lot of people.

You can let me know how well I do. Marks out of ten would be nice. After all it’s your vote that counts. I’m keeping the freebie pens and keyrings under the table. Just wink.


Johnt850, back next week, unless I get thrown down into Craighalbert Quarry. No. No reason. It’s called ‘dropping in’ but not as I know it.


One Response to “Some people like to rock, some people like to roll, But movin’ and a groovin’ gonna satisfy my soul Let’s have a party, oooooh, let’s have a party”

  1. Lan Tester Says:

    :”‘ that seems to be a great topic, i really love it ;*:

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