The Press and Journal (Inverness, Highlands, and Islands)
The Flying Pigs
We can trust Boris to lead the UK’s charge to glorious and futile self-destruction
Well stitch my britches, batter my haddock and let loose a ferocious ‘Yawp!’ of exaltation, Boris is prime minister!
At last, the Tory party has given the people the man that they want. Or at least given the upper classes the man that they want, which is all that matters.
At last, we have a prime minister who will be prepared to stick it to Europe in the manner that reconnects with the richest traditions of British history: glorious and futile self-destruction!
Boris encapsulates the spirit of Passchendaele, Ypres, and the Charge of the Light Brigade all rolled into one. He has a poorly formed idea in his over-privileged head and nothing is going to stop him from attaining it, no matter the price that will have to be paid. Though obviously not by him.
And his cabinet! It is magnificent. New Home Secretary Priti Patel, there to remind us that odious selfishness is not the sole preserve of the white male. Dominic Raab, there to demonstrate that anyone, however obviously inept, or minor their public school, can attain one of the High Offices of State provided they suck up to the right Old Etonian, and Jacob Rees-Mogg, there to throw Bozza’s idiosyncrasies into sharp relief and make him look normal.
How glorious it is to see the Great British upper class twit back where it belongs. And how glorious, too, to see that the Tory party has put the prurience of the recent past behind it, and is unconcerned now by peccadilloes like philandering, serial lying, racism, and making an entire career out of mendacity.
At last we have a party to be proud of again, and after a hiatus of some years, I shall again be taking the whip in the House of Lords. Assuming the young lady in question still offers that service, and that I can smuggle her in past security.
How glorious it is to see the Great British upper class twit back where it belongs
View from the Midden – Rural affairs with Jock Alexander of MTV (Meikle Wartle Television) It’s been a distilled week in the village. Files a lot o’ fowk may be wondering wi’ some trepidation fit new hell each dawn will bring, I’ve been mair concerned wi’ historical matters, thanks tae the exciting revelations that Aiberdeen may be the original birthplace o’ whisky.
Aye, it turns out that takin’ a hell o’ a bucket in the toon gings back centuries, tae way afore there wiz even a Union Street tae stott doon and spill yer chips and cheese upon.
Historians have uncovered the earliest ever reference to Scotch whisky in a 1505 list o’ the possessions of a chaplain in St Nicholas Kirk, fit mentions a “still for making aqua vite” – Latin for “water of life”.
Certainly if they were drinking it like water back then, that wid explain fit wye naebdy minds much aboot the 16th Century.
It’s nae the first reference to whisky itself, however, as that wiz in a 1494 request by King James IV for malt tae mak “aqua vite”, fit he sent tae a monk in Lindores Abbey near Cupar.
However, the Aiberdeen researchers say the king wisnae gasping fer a drink, but needed the “aqua vite” for its original purpose – as a preparation for gunpowder. Fit explains a lot aboot the effects fan ye first knock back a dram.
Fowk fae Cupar dispute this, of course (ye ken fit Fifers are like) and are still clinging on tae their claim tae being whisky’s birthplace.
Curiouser and curiouser, I thocht, and so I took a trip of my ain intae the ancient and somewhat clarty parish records of auld Meikle Wartle tae see if we hid a claim that could trump ab’dy else.
This has been tricky work, given that in medieval times we had yet tae adopt Latin as the written language, and instead used a unique system of pictograms. Unfortunately, mony are completely indecipherable, and the rest are absolutely filthy.
So is there ony evidence o’ a whisky still in 15th Century Meikle Wartle? Weel, there’s Skittery Wullie’s auld brass bath. He’s nivver used it, and claims it hisnae been drained since 1462. Might it be the earliest still in the country?
Weel, it’s the only een that’s still got the original stuff in it. I’m nae sure if it’s “the watter o life” in there – certainly it smells quite the reverse – but equally I’m nae sure there’s a safe wye for onyb’dy tae disprove it, either.
Perhaps maist persuasive, though, is the irrefutable argument that in order tae decide tae mak their hame in a place like Meikle Wartle, medieval settlers must first hae been absolutely panjoteralised.
Fitever the truth o the matter, one thing’s for sure, whisky consumption is on the up – total alcohol consumed worldwide his risen fae 21 billion litres in 1990 tae 35.7bn in 2017.
Noo, I dinna ken fit wye this wid be, but fan watching the news this week I can only say that efter twa bottlies o’ Famous Grouse I wiz suddenly struck by how much sense Trump and Boris wis spiking.
Cheerio!