Saturday, December 23, 2006
Start Of The Humbug Factor.
12/23/2006
Many will assume that silly Ex-minister Mal Chisholm MSP must have pressed the wrong button on his complicated voting consol, casting his vote against the Trident Trotskys and so ending his chequered political career. I have always held him in low esteem, particularly when he served as Health Minister in Scotland; however, he is perhaps the only Scottish Minister who also held similar rank at Westminster. One would like to think that he had come to a point when he could no longer tolerate the sycophantic socialism of Holyrood. I salute you, old boy, as the Trident system is about as “independent” of the U.S. as George W Bush. Even as an ex- RN officer, I firmly believe that the sooner we ditch Trident and its zillion-dollar commitment, to say nothing of U.S. beldam bedfellows, the better. Spend the budget on impoverished U.K. infrastructure and sort that, before even dreaming of anything else.
One minister who should definitely be “Ex”, is Greenoakian, R Finnie MSP, his poor old father must be spinning in his grave to think that his sprog is selling all things Scottish down the line in Euro land solely to secure Finnie’s selfish, two-faced political power. I shall never for a momment consider a vote for the Liberals ever again, and I sincerely trust that fishermen use their increased time ashore to encourage voters out in force in May ’07 and sweep away the Liberals forever.
I sit at the desk surveying the first reasonable weather for months, although the days are a tad short, and the shortage of daylight seems inversely proportional to the pile of VAT returns, tax demands, SERRAD bumf, etc, that are threatening the few clear areas of my desk. However, even this is a pleasant relief from a house full of Christmas guests ranging in age from nine to ninety. It is all very jolly, however, thank God for the peace of the library and detailed consideration of the replacement of miles of fencing and the generation’s old water supply systems that have been destroyed in last week’s floods. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Sorry, Fairness
12/17/2006
Perhaps the most annoying things in life are pictures that never seem to be square with the wall. Here in The Tower of Glen Trollaigh we have hundreds of works of art covering our extensive vertical galleries and particularly at this time of year it becomes a complete pain to continually tweak the frames to make them plumb. We have suffered excessive dampness as global warming extends its watery influence on us all, and perhaps this has caused a movement in our frames, although I personally blame communism.
Certainly, over past days we have suffered from every degree of tempest and deluge; indeed, I have never seen the burns and rivers so high. Neighbouring Glen Orchy has most definitely seen the highest floods in more than twenty years. Horrific tales of the Kerrs wading, waist deep through a mile of floodwater to reach home last Wednesday night are sobering. Although it is fun to think that Erica’s main concern was that she had enough strength left to hold her Glenalmond Tweed handbag above the swirling water to maintain the flexibility of the red deer clasp and to ensure the efficiousy of her numerous mobile phones.
A chastened Baron scribbles these notes tonight following some local, although high powered complaints about my feeble efforts to reflect the life and boring times of the north Argyll glens. I have used my limited knowledge of IT to scan my dribblings and find that only 8% relates to genuine local issues, and I am interested that this piddling percentage of my outpourings should threaten the closure of the blog. For the avoidance of doubt, I wish to make plain my wholehearted support of law and order and, in particular, the financially efficient provision of first class local services for which the majority of us pay handsomely. If my frivolous, fictitious mutterings have caused any offence, please be assured that it is unintended, save to highlight the grave peril that we all face, by not standing up and being counted. I am more than happy to talk to anyone at anytime through this website, or face to face in any pub of your choice. Otherwise, my purely fictitious views and those of millions of my contemporaries will continue to flow down stream from The Tower of Glen Trollaigh with the power of River Trollaigh spate water in any necessary direction that requires a good dousing. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.