Sunday, July 20, 2008

Excerpt from "A Gentleman's Correspondence" (part the third)

Dear James,

It was with abundant exaltation that your letter arrived with the news of your Wick United (up the Wickets!!!) unseating the mighty Falkirk 3 goals to nil in a Saturday afternoon bloodletting. I missed the match as a result of a short stay in the cells of the local constabulary after a McEwan's Lager fueled misadventure with a block of paraffin wax, a plunger, a tube of industrial sealer, six meters of ballistic fuse wire, a cigarette lighter, and the Lord Westminster's prized show pony. I was released the next day (after missing Falkirk's richly deserved decimation), due to a lack of evidence. To my great relief no trace of the beast was recovered and indeed the only evidence of the fracas was a lingering stench of burnt hair and seared meat covering a three mile radius centered upon a certain local pub.

It now appears that with mighty Falkirk effectively out of the running, as a result of several key upsets at the hands of lesser regarded up and coming clubs, it is certain that the run for the Red Cup And Cap is truly wide open. The Haddingtonshire Lefty's extra time own goal by mid-fielder Ken "Dunnee" Yardson, meant a rare home victory for The Ross and Cromarty Red Darts and made the Hadd's relegation to "C" division a foregone conclusion. Sectarian violence has once again precluded a result between "Olde Company" city rivals Fife United and Fife City FC Internationals. The Inters full center back, Robbie "Robbie" Shaker, recently returned from a state ordered holiday in America, bringing with him a new found love of old school Methodist rhetoric. There already exists deepening distrust being fostered by the ongoing schism among local vicarages regarding Protestant doctrine. This is only exasperated by local hero Robbie "Robbie" Shaker taking the pitch carrying two live rattle snakes and speaking in tongues. The total lack of scoring points for either of these clubs has ensured that neither will wear The Golden Tam this season. This is truly a low for these two once mighty clubs, the like of which has not been seen since the Great Bovril Blight of 1890. It is indeed hard to believe that United are largely considered the most decorated side in the Union and the Inters hold a quarter final FA Cup draw against Hammersmith among their honours. 

I must sign off for now my friend. The Argyle Ramblers are about to take the pitch against the loathed Sutherland Walking Fish (Go A-Rams fuck the SWF Johnny Shites), and I barley have my knuckles wrapped or my piss bottles filled. Good day Sir, until our next communication.



Friday, April 04, 2008

Gonna Be A Resolution

The new year is several months old and as usual my mind turns sheepishly to the list of broken resolutions from this time, one year ago. I am still overweight. I have not paid off my credit card. I have not kept close touch with friends and family.  I have not committed myself to my writing. This list is as long as it is shameful but I have decided not to dwell on it unduly. I have instead decided to forgo the entire resolution process and instead focus on those ways in which the rest of the world can improve itself over the next year. 

  • Try to loose a little weight. You are not getting any younger and belts are not getting any cheaper. You are within but a few wheezing steps of a condition known as "that guy on the news who got taken out of his house on a forklift". Cheese is not a seasoning and marmalade stains make up most of your laundry emergencies.
  • Be aware of that smell that your wife finds so appealing tends to offend your fellow subway passengers. Your kids buy you that stuff because it cheap, and you wife encourages it because is guarantees fidelity. The way it mixes with your permanent cloud of pomade, Maker's Mark, and self doubt tends to move even the stoutest of soul toward thoughts of self mutilation. 
  • Try pulling up your pants for while. Just saying.
  • That subway you are trying to knock me out of the way to board, is not in fact the last subway on Earth. There is no need to mash your way in like it's your last hope for life in the new world. 
  • Remember that no one is interested in your phone conversations or your children. Both should be kept quiet in crowded spaces.
  • Try to eat less things that come in blister packs. These include bologna that is the same colour as an albino's taint, compartmentalized cheese and crackers with a plastic stick, and any food with the word "FUN" on the container. What I'm saying is that food that comes in the same packaging as a G.I. Joe doll will cause gastric distress in your future.
  • Men over 30 should avoid the following:  that fist touch greeting (it's the new high five), tribal tattoos (the Big Mac of tattoos) ,the word "extreme" (1995 was 13 years ago and you are still reciting a Mountain Dew ad).

In closing my fine fishy flock of fledging friends, I wish a happy and prosperous remaining eight months of 2008. 

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Excerpt from "A Gentleman's Correspondence" (part the second)

Dear James

Your letter arrives on the morning post amidst a wave of propitious news. The barman you assaulted at the Bishop's Taint on the afternoon of Dunfermline's 1-nil defeat to the mighty Falkirk, has risen from his coma in a near vegetative state and with no clear memory of the events of that evening. With his testimony regarding your attacks and my misguided intervention (where I got a stop sign I'll never know) now a matter of hearsay, the local constabulary will not have any viable means to pursue charges or press for civil compensation. Only a poorly received petition from local church groups and women's organizations can keep us from a quiet pint of an afternoon at the Taint. It is only my gentle and forgiving spirit that keeps me from seeking recompense from the Officers who subdued me with such vigor. I can find no pity for their burns, bites, and bruised scotums after they were so free with their rubber truncheons and water cannons. So fear not my dear friend, we need not seek solace in the gusset staining draft of The Scrubbing Dutchman, or the vile piss streaked walls and ungodly stench of Madonna's new Kabbalah Schmooze House. All the best to you and yours until next we correspond.