Though I don’t know when I’ll hit the bottom. I been falling for so long that I can’t tell. I know that you’ll never hear me callin, from the bottom of my sinful wishin well…..

What a gorgeous hedonistic notion – a personal, sinful wishin well, visited only by an invisible yet highly intelligent kangaroo called Skippy who only really special people can see, except when she’s on TV. 

(That opening sentence alone probably explains why no newspaper has ever approached me to reproduce any of this in their pages, but if you have influence, please do not hesitate to make approaches on my behalf. Maybe I should write more about the area? Let’s try it.)

Well they’ve arrested a 19 year old woman in connection with the killing of the 29 year old but in a separate incident a pub in the same area, down the road, was firebombed at 4.50 a.m. the other day. No. No witnesses. That kinda thing? Maybe not.

Oh, and the chanteuse? Caitlin Rose. I suspect a country singer of some description. Oh, and a quick Hi to bestest friend Caitlin. What jolly interesting F/book friends you have. How is my son, btw? (And there is an unwritten rule which I do observe as he does with me. It’s why we pretend not to know each other in lapdancing clubs)

But it’s been a week or sooooooooooo much dominated by getting ideas (well researched but unpaid unless commissioned) into the Beeb cos it’s that time of year. I shall say nothing as they’re all in the laps of the incredibly nice commissioning people at Pacific Quay, TV and Radio, but a big thanks to folk like Nick, Linda, Russell and Wendy for help and encouragement and thoughts. Serious thanks. Gulp. 😉

Moving limply on. (When did I stub my toe?) Incidentally, it was W who introduced me to Paul the Psychic Cephalopod. Oh, the hands I had to shake that day. Word reaches me that Paul (this is true, like everything else in the blog) is being signed up by Paul Daniels’s agent for a documentary, a range of Christmas toys and an album called Paul The Octopus Sings Elvis. And the Spanish World Cup winnings really were spent. Enjoyably.

A quick word re . e has noticed a flaw in my Glasgow University ad campaign (or postcard in that newsagent’s as it’s known.) The bit where it says ‘quotes given’? I couldn’t work out why people, going to a party, were phoning and asking if I’d something suitable from Shakespeare or were going to a wedding dressed as a pirate and wanted words a wee bit more exciting than ‘Shiver Me Timbers!’ Now I know.

But not a lot of housekeeping this week. Which is good. Because I’ve coped with the lack of Ellroy this week. Just as well. And I’d like to thank Paul G for this nugget about the great man. Apparently Ellroy, and another great writer Mark Ebner, both ended up on hospital trolleys (comme moi) after too much drink and drugs. I ended up on one cos I did without, one particular Sunday.

Both promised to God that, if speared, sorry spared, that they would devote their lives to writing. Me? I phoned my accountant. And I’ve been written off ever since! (Ker-ching!) It’s an accountant’s gag. (To the Tax people there is a reason why the Income side of the Tax Return is empty. Believe me if I could, I would)

And so to the start of the new football season. To Kirkcaldy. Home of the Harbour Bar. It’s a bar. Down by the harbour. And Starks Park. Home of Raith Rovers. A lovely ground from where you can see hills and the Forth Estuary and the Rosyth Ferry and the trains going past and the grass looking good and the parking is easy and we were three f***ing goals down by half time and a man sent off and I have given up. Completely. Until Tuesday. It’s the nature of the beast.

But that leaves me paragraphs to fill cos I was so optimistic about things. Just cos. We lost four nil. (This is the kind of thing you get on fans’ blogs. It’s remarkably easy to write. But doesn’t feel right. But I’ll keep going) We lost easy goals; no-one supported wee Liam; McCall must go; Sack the Board: etc; etc; etc.

No. Bill Shankly’s quote about football being more important than life or death was meant to be tongue in cheek. Men like him came from Ayrshire mining stock. Matt Busby from Bellshill, where many good things come from. Jock Stein came from Burnbank in Lanarkshire. Not only did they not have the benefit of University education, they didn’t have smiley icons to represent irony.

And yes. I did watch the programme about the Ibrox Disaster the other night.

So, and finally, a quick word about the stupid idea of making the final hour in a pub soft drinks only. Not only will the big drinks companies not allow it – they after all killed the relatively sober and safe ‘rave culture’ of a few years ago by persuading young drinkers back into the city with all sorts of drink promos – but they would have to improve the standard of soft drinks available.

I speak as someone who has benefited greatly by the changes in pub life of recent years but omg, compare the range of softs available with the range of beers available. Mind you pubs exist to sell alcohol. Drinking alcohol can, and should be, a pleasurable experience. It’s also a great way of helping forget a rubbish game of football.

Jealousy has just kicked in.  Would one glass be so awful? Worry not, dear listener, it’s rhetorical. So’s Thistle’s chances this season. Pass the wine gums.

cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge 😀


And I know I said I’d stop doing the below the line thing but a quick word, if I may, for Geoffrey Hughes who played Eddie Yeats in Corrie and whose prostate cancer has come back a year after treatment. That is always going to be the concern; no matter what the treatment, no matter what the illness, no matter what the addiction. The bastard might choose to come back. But I don’t let it worry me.

All I can do is talk about it. So some offers I made to a small number of people recently still stand. But, as I say, all I can do is talk. No. No promises.


One Response to “Though I don’t know when I’ll hit the bottom. I been falling for so long that I can’t tell. I know that you’ll never hear me callin, from the bottom of my sinful wishin well…..”

  1. Mental Disorders 101 Says:

    Though I don?t know when I?ll hit the bottom. I been falling for so long that I can?t tell. I know that you?ll never hear me callin, from the bottom of my sinful wishin well?…..

    I found your entry interesting do I’ve added a Trackback to it on my weblog :)…

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