Y’awreet there. Aye, nae bother. Noo then, a wee burd tells me some of yous think ahm a bully. Weel tha’s pish. S’wan innae gub yous needs. Jist cos some blooter whines aboot ma management style doesnae mean any of yous can call me a bully, yer knoo wottae mean. Any Jim from Govan said tha tae me woodae gotta smack inna heed. Ma advice is tae shut yer yap.
No, ahm very pally wi ma staff. T’other evenin ah went tae the pub wi Loosy-hen for a wee swallee. I says to her, are yer no havin wan yersel? She says aye and I says Weel bloody get us wan while yer aboot it. Turned oot to be a helluva neet. Afta a few pints o Tennants I was pished yer knoo. Still ah reckon the landlord fancied me the way he slung me oot on ma arse when I flashed ma tartan camiknickers.
Noo, aboot the future of SEC, weel ahm not sure it’s got wan. Tha wee shortarse doon at the river is a dick reet enough but the bastud has put all ma courses at the bottom o the heap, the big wet slopbledger. Wurst o all ah gottae pretend ah agree wi him. Mind you, ah enjoy heedbuttin yous lot.
Ah weel, ma pension’s awreet. I mean, them posh bastuds at Oxford set me oop. Ahm off to the lavvie noo. Tha Tennants is still workin its way through. Ah’ll go on the heavy next time. Noo beat it.
Edith C Nesbitt