Author: John Mackie

Here’s Tae Us

Some claim there’s not much fun in being Presbyterian
With a love of despair as our chosen criterion.
That we try to enjoy but our heart’s just not in it.
So we look for the worst. The best? We’ll just bin it.

But, if you think we are humble, doom-ridden or ‘douce’,
You’d be missing the mark and extremely obtuse.
For we hold it as fact that when God took a shot
at creating perfection, he fashioned the Scot.

We display to you all our practised pretence,
And try not to blame you for not having the sense
to be born a true Jock with all that’s implied.
We’re just very lucky – you can’t call it pride.

A Show of Hands for Pseu

Sorry, Pseu and hands up by me for my  total failure to lend any sort of hand of support to your competitions until tonight. As the hands of the clock move inexorably towards midnight, I genuinely feel all thumbs about not knuckling down and pulling my finger out to make  a fist at some sort of entry.

The truth is that I have been far too limp-wristed in my charioteering this month, although I could hold out the excuse that I have had my hands full at work as our IT is handed over to a new ham-fisted and cack-handed bunch of incompetents who could not find their own back passages even if they used both hands. Sorry if I’m being a bit off hand about them but the digital age can be a right pain sometimes. In my hands on experience. Continue reading “A Show of Hands for Pseu”

Here We Go Again

It’s that time of the season when I get this absolutely certain feeling that Scotland are going to do well in the Six Nations. Said feeling has come really late this time. It usually starts on New Year’s Day about 2 am after I’ve had a fair sufficiency.

This year it suddenly kicked in about five minutes ago and it probably won’t last much longer than 4.05 pm this afternoon as events unfold at Twickers.

Whatever. It’s a fine feeling while it’s there. And, when it goes pear-shaped, I can always blame Salmond. I’ll bet the sleekit little scunner will be sitting there in a freebie seat praying for an English win by at least 100 points so that he can cast it up as yet another act of oppression by the Auld Enemy.

C’mon Scotland. 

Is Nothing Sacred?

I have never been an incandescent sort of person. In truth, you would probably have to dowse me with 100% proof spirit and toss a lighted match in my direction to inflame me about anything. I just have this congenital belief that the other chap may not be talking total rubbish and that I should, in fairness, listen to him even if what he is saying sounds like utter piffle.  Continue reading “Is Nothing Sacred?”

2013 and Counting Down to the Vote

Could I just start by wishing all my fellow Charioteers a Good New Year? For the avoidance of doubt, this universal greeting does not constitute a discharge of my obligation to wish each and every one of you, as individuals, a GNY, as and when I first address you personally. I’ve already done a few and I know who you are if I haven’t yet.

Said obligation will persist well into the aforesaid New Year. I realise that JW alleges that there is  a cut off after 7 days but he is, of course, talking total keech.  Continue reading “2013 and Counting Down to the Vote”

Haggis Go Home

As we steadfastly march behind our Dear Leader towards the glorious dawn of Scottish Independence, fanned by the zephyr-like breath of the tens of millions of wind turbines crowding across every available inch of our mountains and glens and far too sober thanks to the extortionate amount of alcohol duty levied by the Health Fascists of the Scottish Parliament, it is time to reflect on one of the few good things which will come out of that Independence.
Continue reading “Haggis Go Home”

Another Time

Elections, even US elections, bring it all flooding back.

In my youth, I was a political animal, Neither ashamed nor defensive about that. It was just what I was. My first political memory is the 1959 election. Lying on the floor of the lounge in an Army house on the Bulbridge Estate in Wilton filling in the ‘Daily Telegraph’ constituency map of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland in either blue or red (other colours were not really necessary) as the results poured in over the radio on the Friday afternoon and evening.
Continue reading “Another Time”

‘You realise, of course, that this means War.’

I was at the shopping mall at Ocean Terminal in Embra yesterday afternoon for various mundane reasons. When necessity drives me there, I always try to lift my spirits by driving to the very top parking level and looking out north over the Firth of Forth. I defy anybody not to find that a lift to the spirits.

Anyhow, I cast a soothed eye over the Western Harbour of Leith docks and saw that two of our gallant allies were present and moored yards away from the most famous denizen of said harbour. Continue reading “‘You realise, of course, that this means War.’”