Old Susannah No.193 – Oot O’ Europe

 Opinion, Satire and Humour  3 Responses »
Jul 082016
 

Voice’s Old Susannah takes a look over the past week’s events in the ‘Deen and beyond. By Suzanne Kelly.

DictionaryHurrah! Result! We’re to leave Europe. Or maybe not – no one knows for certain what Scotland’s future looks like at this point, but isn’t it fun and a bit exciting?
And we might get either Michael Gove or Teresa May as the new PM! The Brexiteers Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson as so magnanimous in victory that they’ve scarpered.

You might compare their running away from the result they pushed for to insects running to hide when you turn over a stone, but I know that they’re just getting ready for some further selfless acts of heroism.

Another hero who shuns the limelight is former PM Tony Blair. With the Chilcot report released this week, you’d expect Tony to take the credit for the Iraq war. After all, he saved us from those Weapons of Mass Destruction. Thanks TB.

Looking at this week’s news, here are a few little facts you might enjoy:

When the dust settles a bit on Brexit, Old Susannah will revert with more facts – that’s if anyone’s saying anything factual at all. While Scotland voted to stay, the Brexiteers said that the EU was costing us £350 million a week which could be better spent on the NHS. Clearly that in no way meant that any money saved would be spent on the NHS, which of course is in fine shape anyway.

In far more important news, it was the Portsoy Traditional Boat Festival last weekend, and the weather was largely fine. The Black Isle Brewery was on hand, as was Dyce’s new brewer, Fierce. They have some delicious gear, I bought a lovely wheat beer and a coffee and vanilla concoction. In the meantime BrewDog’s launched a few Jackhammer Variants; Jackhammer being my favourite brew with off-the-scale bitterness.

Blackhammer is my favourite; I hope to see it around for a long, long time. BrewDog is also doing its bit for up-and-coming music and comedy talent; comedy troupe Wildly Unprepared have been doing their improve thing on Thursday nights in Underdog (the venue beneath BrewDog Castlegate). Hope to see you there.

One person though has managed to end years of The Malt Mill’s and Downstairs’ nurturing of fledgling bands. Someone moved to a flat near to the venue – a venue with ‘LIVE MUSIC’ in giant letters proclaiming that the Malt Mill, which looked like a bar with live music to the rest of us – and you’d never guess it – there was live music going on at night!

If only there had been some clue that a flat on a busy commercial road close to a long-running music venue and bar might not be quiet at night! Now Old Susannah understands that people need to play music for whatever reason, and I suppose there should be some allowance in society for that kind of thing in small doses.

It was always going to be the event of the year

Perhaps the venue should have just spent £100,000 from their petty cash and soundproofed the place. After all, if you put on live bands, that means you’re rolling in money.

Hopefully we’ll get something useful in place of The Malt Mill – like a mobile phone shop or Estate Agent. And from now on, let’s all be very, very quiet when we are out on the streets late at night.

Perhaps the hero who forced this closure could let us know when it’s convenient for the rest of us to make any noise on Holburn? I’d absolutely love to hear from you. My words of congratulations for your fighting for your individual right to quiet (rather than using ear plugs, moving, or just getting used to it) and successfully closing down a place for the rest of us to hear new bands are ready any time you want to hear them. I salute you.

Finally, we will all remember where we were when celebrity misogynist Donald J Trump flew into Menie this past week. It was always going to be glamorous with Sarah Malone in attendance. It was always going to be the event of the year with the Press & Journal present. But when Rupert Murdoch AND Jerry Hall flew in as well – what can Old Susannah say? Words cannot convey how exciting this was; it was like being a part of history in the making.

How unfortunate then that a few spoilsports decided – I can’t imagine why – to hang up Mexican Flags near the course. It’s bad enough these people live close to the course in houses The Donald finds unattractive, but to add to the visual pollution – well, that was unforgiveable.

Perhaps not as unforgiveable as Trump’s people: cutting off residents’ water and electricity supplies, calling the police to arrest lawbiding journalists, blocking access for the disabled at various points on the estate, threatening a grandmother with eviction, stopping Michael Forbes from salmon fishing, or threatening to use compulsory purchase orders to steal homes – but it’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?

(NB – the residents decided not to stage a personal protest, but to just have the flags reminding the world of Trump’s bigotry towards Mexico and everyone who isn’t a white male billionaire. The massive amounts of news cover the flag protest generated in advance of the visit was remarkable. The brief, chaotic, rambling words of Trump to a few score of journos just didn’t cut it. With all of her professional qualifications i.e. being a former beauty queen, the polished, finely-tuned press call on the day was what I expected.).

But at this rate there won’t be any definitions, and I very much want to get back to that part of this column. By the way, this column will finish with No. 200. That will be quite enough for this format, but it doesn’t mean that I’ll take my eyes off The Granite City. Anyway, a few words – about trees and consultations in Aberdeen.

Consultation: (English noun) An exercise in which various experts and/or stakeholders are asked for their opinions and facts on a particular subject.

Peterculter Tree Cull consultation: (Aberdonian noun) An exercise in which various experts and/or stakeholders are asked for their opinions and facts on a particular subject, and the majority of people involved don’t get a look in. and facts are overlooked.

DSCN1516Secondly, the trees were old, and we’ve got enough old stuff around here anyway.

Then there was the fact that the trees were cutting down the amount of sunshine reaching one or two people in adjacent housing.

I for one know that if the sun’s not streaming in my Scottish windows 24/7 365/365, it can only mean the trees (not clouds, storms, snow, hailstones) are blocking the light.

Of course, some of the more intrepid people actually go outside when it’s sunny – but you can hardly do that if you’re living somewhere as dangerous as Peterculter.

So the city got back some responses from people who hated the trees, and cut them down.

Some councillors were very quick to defend this action too. Some councillors said that the trees were diseased and posed a hazard. That must have been a hell of a tree disease. On the one hand, it must have come up very quickly – or surely the city would have taken action before now.

On the other hand, it’s a pretty interesting kind of tree disease when instead of getting rid of the trees (or heaven forbid trying to treat it), you can decide what to do about the trees not by saying their diseased and cutting them, but by asking residents what they want done with the trees.

DSCN1513

One person at least tried unsuccessfully to get through to the relevant people at the city, but as we know, the city responds instantly to any and all queries.

Another funny thing is the city’s existing tree management policy. It seems to say that if it owns trees that are not close to a dwelling, they aren’t going to cut them down.

It’s not that I’m cynical, but I’d love to find out what the disease was that was so bad the trees had to come down but not bad enough that the residents’ opinions could have stopped it. For more info, see here.

Some people claim their responses to the consultation were unanswered. Would the city ever do that?

Tree for Every Citizen scheme: (Aberdonian noun) An exercise in which various experts and/or stakeholders are asked for their opinions only if they are from the SNH or stand to make lots of £££ from killing deer on the hill, or wear shoulder pads (Aileen ‘Ho’Malone), in which consultation existing plans to kill deer are deliberately left out, stopping the public from taking much interest, so their opinions can be ‘managed’ in the words of the SNH. 

No one objected to the proposal – until it was too late. Funny that they didn’t announce the cull when they mentioned the other operational details (rabbit fences).

Even funnier; they refused to listen to free advice from experts on how to have trees and deer. And now we have no deer and no trees. We do have a consultant who’s at least £100,000 better off. And ranger Ian Tallboys got an award from Princess Anne. Result!

The award-winning, manicured Tullos Hill forest will provide a cost-neutral lovely recreation area for city residents. Only that it’s cost a packet, cost the lives of 38 deer (give or take – the city’s record-keeping is so bad we don’t know), and the trees are in such poor shape we’ve been warned that we might have to give the government its grant money back.

That would be nothing new, the previous attempt to plant trees on this former garbage tip with very poor soil didn’t work, either – I wonder why – and cost us £43,800.

Sometimes there is no need to bother even with a token consultation, as the people of Bedford Road can tell you. If they didn’t read page 47 of the Evening Express, read community council notes and city papers – and magically deduce that a ‘bus gate’ meant they would not be allowed to drive on their street again, then it’s their tough luck.

No one thought it necessary to write to them to ask for opinions; although funnily enough, the Peterculter residents were written to about cutting down the trees (apparently 2 people said to cut them – and that was good enough for ACC).

You don’t have to consult the public over minor details like the Marischal Square project either. Just tell them an iconic, smart, forward looking building will breath new life, etc. etc. into the area, but the architects will respect the importance of Provost Skene’s house: then hope they won’t notice when the reality is nothing like the original promise.

In fact, the reality is so much better! We can barely see the provost’s house now, and I hear we might get a hamburger joint. AND – the Press & Journal are going to move in! The best loved, most cutting edge newspaper in the best-loved, most cutting edge building! Result! as they say.

Next week: Blair, Brexit, Boris

PS – An observation

I was walking through Torry one early evening, past where a small green space off Victoria Road has a small but pretty collection of flowers. A couple were there, possibly Eastern European. We said hello as I passed. They had a little girl. She was smiling from ear to ear, pointing at the flowers, and jumping up and down.

Completely devoid of any prejudice, mindless hatred, greed, or ill-will, she was just delighted to be with two obviously adoring parents, looking at beautiful flowers.

I wondered whether it was too much to ask that we stop hurting our kids by pouring our prejudices and poisons into them. Will this girl be one of the 5 who will eventually be sexually assaulted? Will she encounter kids at school who are mean to her – because their parents taught them to hate people who are ‘foreign’ or ‘different’?

Will she be encouraged to study whatever she wants to study – science, art, languages, history – or will the system channel her into ‘girlish’ activities or will well-meaning people make her study things which lead to well-paying jobs while forsaking arts and philosophy? If she were a Muslim/black/Native American/Asian child, what kinds of barriers, doors and hatred would she be experiencing before long.

I wondered, is it too much to ask that with all the problems we’ve left for the next generation that we can at the very least manage not to fill these little people with hatred and just be nice to them instead? The answer, sadly, is that it probably will be too much to ask. I hope she remembers how happy, free and innocent she was that night. I wish she could live like that always – if she and her peers could, then there’s a chance we could have another world and a far better one.

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Old Susannah’s Journal No. 114 – Stop (the) Press!

 Opinion, Satire and Humour  12 Responses »
Mar 212013
 

Voice’s Old Susannah takes a look over the past week’s events in the ‘Deen and beyond. By Suzanne Kelly.

dictionary

Tally Ho! Apologies for the late running of this column.

For one thing I’ve been a bit tied up with issues at the Menie Estate.  I’ve compiled a report covering some of the little issues people have with the galaxy’s greatest golf course and Mr Trump. Leaving aside boring issues such as the quality of life for residents, visitors and wildlife, it was a huge honour to be one of the first people to see the brand new plaque by the course’s temporary (?) clubhouse.

This plaque tells you the course has been ‘weaved’ through the ‘largest dunes in the world’.

Of course it has.  I wonder whether The Donald wrote this brilliant prose himself, or if one of our BiG local PR agencies devised it for him.  It is very inspirational – I just won’t tell you what I felt inspired to do.

While at the course I had hoped to interview some of the thousands of new employees working in the promised golf jobs, and ask what was going on with the millions of pounds of income generated.  I couldn’t find these new employees – perhaps they were all out counting their money.  However, I was lucky enough to see one of the rarest forms of wildlife, the lesser-spotted Sarah Malone-Bates.

It was wearing a bright pink blouse (which was interesting, as the rest of us needed coats, hats and gloves).  She must have been cold, but a little suffering is the price of beauty.  (I note that there are a few beauty contests coming up in our area; isn’t it great to know how important looks are, and what humanitarian ends beauty contest winners can get up to.

Some say beauty is skin deep; others that beauty is as beauty does.  I wonder what Mrs Maloney-Baloney thinks.  They also say you get the face you deserve by the time you’re 40.  I wonder what Mr Trump thinks on that score).

Other than that, there has been so much activity of late that it’s hard to know where to start.

First, a thank you to the nice people at Lunan Farm Shop & Cafe, who helped me when my mobile phone got lost.  I was quite put out, worried I might miss a call asking me to join ACSEF, or offering me a vice-presidency job at Trump International.  I have my phone back now, and am awaiting those calls which should come any day now.

What Lunan and the Farm Shop/Cafe lack in connectivity and vibrancy, they make up for in other ways and then some.  Like being nice and serving real food.

As per usual an amazing visit to BrewDog; their man Fisher has painted an amazing black and white mural there, and starting 25/3, the walls will feature artwork from up and coming area residents.

What’s clean air and wildlife compared to someone somewhere making money?

When I go jogging around Nigg Bay, there are more and more other joggers to be seen, as well as walkers, cyclists, golfers and wildlife spotters.  We’re all thrilled to think the Harbour Board wants to ruin the last stretch of coastline with potential harbour expansion.  Money before environment has worked really well in Aberdeenshire.

We’ve got a great situation at Menie, with compromised SSSIs, we’ve got some of the top ten most polluted roads (funny that includes roads near the harbour), and a sewage plant.  Let’s just finish the job, deal nature a final blow, and turn Nigg Bay into a money-maker, too.  What’s clean air and wildlife compared to someone somewhere making money?

Before getting to some definitions,  there is some sad news.  A gentle giant, humble, meek and softly-spoken has left Aberdeen City Council (no, not Pete Leonard.  Yet).  Perhaps you’d best sit down (if you’re not already):  Gerry Brough has left – resigned.

Without Gerry, we couldn’t have spent hundreds of thousands of pounds on the City Garden Project, which brought so much harmony to our city.  His timid, mild behaviour at meetings might have made him easy to overlook, but let’s look at some of his many accomplishments.

Without Gerry, we might have had a chance to vote ‘No’ to building in UTG when presented with the shortlist of ‘designs’ for turning UTG into shops and parking.  Where would we have been then?

He selflessly ‘donated’ about 11 hours per week of his own time to sit on various City Garden Project committees, with no thought of eventual reward, disregarding EU work-time directives.  I’m sure his family felt deprived of his sunny disposition.

Some might say this free work done by Brough Trade was a smokescreen to make it look as if the project didn’t cost anything to the taxpayer and to help him get in with the ACSEF mob or the odd billionaire.  But I knew he had a good heart.  A heart of granite.

For some strange reason, several of the shops have folded, and one became an internet business

Who else will represent Aberdeen in Houston and Grenoble? We flew him there for very important meetings and conventions last year.  If those important meetings coincided with cuts to services for the elderly and school facilities, it was worth it.  Then there was the way he was fair to both sides of the garden referendum debate.

His involvement in how the referendum question was worded was sadly not appreciated by the Friends of Union Terrace Gardens.  Gerry said at the time the FOUTG were trying to ‘undermine’ the process.

If by undermining it he meant not accepting 11th hour wording changes or being railroaded into a lamely-worded question, Gerry was right. (see also https://aberdeenvoice.com/2011/12/utg-referendum-question-already-soured/ ).

He also helped give us ’Retail Rocks!’ in Torry.  On the one hand, it brought shops back into use.  Well, for a few months anyway.  Even if this rocking scheme created unfair advantage for the new shopkeepers over existing businesses, and took tens of thousands of taxpayer pounds in the process, it’s what Gerry wanted. I think this was really just his way of helping to stimulate the economy (for consultants and shopfitters).

For some strange reason, several of the shops have folded, and one became an internet business.  It is almost as if having a shop premise selling goods isn’t as profitable as selling goods on the intranet.  Still, this kind of forward-thinking scheme won an award of some kind.

Some people would say that service industries are a better way to go to get empty shops filled, lower rates for all ‘ma and pa’ businesses would also help, and using empty shops for artwork displays, events, charity fundraisers and so on would stimulate high street growth.  But Gerry knew best, and now, <sob>  he’s gone.

Rumours of Independent, Labour, Conservative politicians joining 99% of the ACC staff in dancing on tables and celebrating with BrewDogs are unconfirmed.  Adios Ger.

This week there are many interesting developments concerning freedom of the press:  i.e. – there might not be much of it going forward.  Here are a few definitions to try and make sense of what happened to the media, and what might happen.

Monopoly: (Eng. noun) – situation in which one person or company owns all or nearly all of a given resource or market sector putting them in a completely dominant position.

Aside from Private Eye magazine and a few quirky politicians, the UK government bent over backward to allow Rupert Murdoch to get as near a monopoly over the UK’s media, print and broadcast as was possible.  Quite right too.  It was June 2010, Rupe had the Sun, the Times, and he wanted BSB too.

What could possibly be wrong with one person controlling the majority of the media?  Why nothing.  As one professor put it:-

“It is vital to guard against just having a knee-jerk, ideological objection to Mr Murdoch – his companies produce an exceptionally large amount of very high quality content” – Tim Luckhurst, Professor of journalism at the University of Kent
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10317856

I guess I should define ‘high quality content’ sometime.

Murdoch’s empire dwarfed the BBC, and outbid them on major sports programmes which Rupert then put on satellite television, where everyone could watch for a small fee.  Or for a giant fee if you wanted to play a game in your pub or bar.  Everyone was happy.  Well, Rupert was.

The funny thing about having a monopoly and being allowed by government and the police to do whatever you want is that you might start thinking you can do whatever you want.  With the government giving Murdoch the green light for media dominance, and a few scattered police men and women having cosy meetings with News  Corporation operative, things started getting a wee bit dodgy.

The Sun started to get a little adventurous and creative when landing important stories.  Its intrepid investigative reporters devoted their time to finding sex scandals, up skirt shots, hiring private detectives to do a spot of wire-tapping, and paying the paparazzi to take all-important intrusive photos of celebrities and their children.

I’m sure those involved in these activities were free to pursue any journalistic directions they wanted, free from any controlling editors or a right-wing proprietor.  Ah, the golden days of press.  Or was that yellow journalism.

Whatever it was, we bought it.  Profits weren’t that great on the print side, but this was offset by the satellite arm of the empire.  And so it went.  Perhaps the print media also made one or two subtle political hints echoing whichever politician Murdoch favoured.  If so, it was far too subtle for Old Susannah to pick up on.

Leveson Inquiry: (Compound proper English noun).  An inquiry into a variety of press scandals, leading to recommendations for press regulation.

Believe it or not, over the years, there have been one or two scandals in British establishments.  In fact there were one or two minor issues in the banking sector not all that long ago.  These resulted in economic meltdown, loss of the UK’s AAA rating, and austerity measures (unless you worked for a bank or were in government of course).

The government acted swiftly to give the banks a stern talking to, and a few billion pounds to tide them over.  Then followed one or two other minor scandals involving sub-prime mortgages and manipulation of the  LIBOR rates.

These were swiftly followed by more slaps on bankers’ wrists, and lots more subsidies.  That showed them.  Some people point to close links between the ConDems and banking executives, but I’m sure our elected officials would never allow favouritism to cloud their judgment.

Banks weren’t alone in behaving badly for profit.  Newspapers have been involved in one or two unsavoury activities recently, too.  Don’t worry though, the police were on the case.  Or should I say the police were on the take.

Police officials and hacks met for expensive meals in nice London restaurants  Blind eyes were turned; Police and MoD officials pocketed cash from the Sun, and police detectives helped the papers with stories in exchange for money. All the while paparazzi photographers took long-lens shots at celebrities and children of same, to go with stories often obtained illegally.

News was getting replaced by celebrity gossip trash.  The public protested by buying more and more copies of ‘OK!’  ‘Hello!’ ‘I Have No Life Of My Own!’ and so on.

Things went too far; even the police and government couldn’t continue to pretend they weren’t in bed with the tabloids.

You would think that the existing laws could have been enforced at the time

Something must be done, or something had to be seen to be done. It was time for another long, expensive inquiry.  No doubt there would be some outcomes from Leveson criticising how the police were both complicit and enabling to all this phone tapping and story selling.

You could be forgiven for thinking the way forward would be to ensure that paparazzi and reporters are stopped from illegal intrusions and entrapment, and are ordered to respect privacy, especially the privacy of innocent people and children.  You would be wrong.

You would think that the existing laws could have been enforced at the time by a switched-on, honest police force.  But think again.

For the bankers, stern words and subsidies were the answer.  After all, they’ve only cost the taxpayer a few billion in bail-outs.  For the fifth estate, which is historically meant to be a check on politicians, the remedy is different.

Instead of enforcing the laws we already have, the politicians have a great idea:  the press will be held accountable to politicians.  No one is accountable for allowing the monopoly to be created, no code of conduct will be created for the police to ensure they obey and enforce laws, and stop taking hospitality from the press.

No, the entire media sector is solely at fault, not just the tabloids.  Or so they would have you think, and that’s good enough for me.

Of course the details of how regulation will work are sketchy; there are more questions than answers concerning  proposed press regulatory bodies and mandatory sign-up to a government code on the press.

There goes some 400 years of freedom, just to punish the antics of the monopoly press which got away with Murdoch for years.  It’s almost as if government wanted to get control over the entire media sector, and weren’t happy with its history of exposing crooked politicians, out-of-control MOD budgets, NHS management failures, sexed-up dossiers getting us into the Iraq war, and so on.

I for one will find the new government-controlled news much easier to digest

What will this mean to bloggers, small publishers, satire writers?  Possibly ‘exemplary’ fines, lawsuits galore, and lots of rich lawyers.  We just don’t’ know yet.  What will this mean to investigative journalism?

For years we’ve been fed a populist diet of magazines filled with celebrities who are considered too fat one day and too thin the next.  There are shots of stars who get drunk, who have ‘wardrobe malfunctions’ who go out with other stars and then break up.  It’s just as well we’ve taken these important issues to heart – going forward this might be the only kind of news we get.

I for one will find the new government-controlled news much easier to digest.  From now on instead of investigating council waste, issues at the Menie Estate and abuses of office, I can start writing about who’s wearing what, what new beauty queens have been crowned, and how thin or fat they are.

Still, there is one ground-breaking development Old Susannah is happy to share…

Augmented Reality: (modern compound noun)

New technology coming soon to an Aberdeen Journal publication near you!

There I was, wondering about the future of newspapers.  And then I saw this:-

“Make your Evening Express come to life

“App lets readers see videos and images

“Published: 06/03/2013

“Bookmark with:

“Share on linkedinShare on facebookShare on twitterShare on emailShare on gmailShare on stumbleuponShare on favoritesMore Sharing Services

“THE Evening Express today unveiled a revolutionary new way of allowing our readers to interact with the paper.

“Video and 3D images can pop up from the printed page thanks to the innovative new scheme.

“Dubbed augmented reality (AR), the application involves the reader holding their phone over a “trigger” advert, resulting in a series of 3D images and videos displayed through the user’s phone.”

Can we really use our phones to augment my reality?  Yes we can!  I can see it now:  3D Stewart Milne homes, 3D views of Trump golf courses.  Then again, the photos of the Trump course in the recent P&J Golf Supplement look just a bit greener and neater than any photos I’ve managed to take to date.  Could someone be augmenting the reality of the greens?

Maybe we could have augmented reality photos of our councillors as well.  They say this technology can make people seem life-like.  For some of our elected reps, this will be quite an improvement.

Time to go find a copy of ‘OK!’ and see what’s going on in the world.  If I’m not thrown in jail, we’ll see what’s up next week.

PS – For some odd reason Labour are not happy with P&J coverage of a recent event. 

This is very surprising.  Most of us aren’t happy with their coverage of any events.  While they rammed a granite web down our throats and perpetuated the myth it was cost-free, they accidentally forgot to mention  Trump’s VP marrying their editor and skirted the slight bias this might mean.

They seem to have implied a man up in court for drug-dealing was a Labour member/activist; he wasn’t.

The P&J printed the full-page Trump anti-wind farm ad referring to Lockerbie, but refused to take an ad, pre-referendum, from the Friends of Union Terrace Gardens for being ‘too political’.  Its sister paper called those who voted against Trump ‘neeps’ and ‘traitors’.

It said that two deer had died in advance of the Tullos Hill deer slaughter (the deer died two full years earlier, of unknown causes – as wild animals are known to do on occasion).  Other than that, what’s not to like?

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Old Susannah No 85: Brigadoon, Braveheart, Brave & Balmedie

 Creative Writing, Satire and Humour  1 Response »
Jul 122012
 

Voice’s Old Susannah comments on current events and enlightens us with definitions of some tricky terms with a locally topical taste. By Suzanne Kelly.

dictionary

Tally Ho!  I will start by apologising for a recent column; I clearly misread the signs and got carried away.  Specifically, you don’t need to worry quite so much about wearing sunscreen as I’d suggested.  I also advised to make sure your pets had enough water – well, I think we’ve all had enough water by now.

Moving swiftly along, two art exhibitions are worthy of mention this week.  The House of Annie Lennox exhibition at the Aberdeen Art Gallery opened with a bang.  Ms Lennox was in town and a party and a press launch for the show were held.

Alas I did not get to the party, but it was a treat to have early access to the exhibition.  The show is considerably expanded, and the early mementos and images from her childhood in Aberdeen show the roots of her talents and personality.

More homegrown talent is on display (albeit in Forfar) with artist Anna Geerdes’ exhibition ‘No Place’.  Anna is from the Netherlands, lives in Torry, and studied at Grays School of Art.  Her work explores questions of boundaries and landscapes; she’s had paintings in the Royal Academy of Art in Edinburgh, and I wish her all the best with this exceptional show on until 28 July.
http://www.angus.gov.uk/history/museums/meffan/exhibitions-2012-NoPlace.htm )

Looking out over foggy Aberdeen over the last few weeks (well, some days you couldn’t look very far for the haar) I peer through the mists and am reminded of the old film Brigadoon.  This fantasy version of Scotland was so old fashioned!  A bunch of tartan-clad, happy villagers in a town hidden by mist – really!

Thankfully, Hollywood has ceased any stereotyping.  That’s why Pixar’s Brave’ is so much a hit, that we are helping to promote it and its vision of Scotland.  Its far more realistic version of Scotland features tartan-clad, happy villagers dealing with witches and banshees.   Result!

Rather than definitions from our government and its great initiatives, here is a look at  some Hollywood films set amid the heather of Scotland.

Brigadoon: (proper noun; English) Movie/musical love story set in Scottish Highlands.

The tale of Brigadoon centres on a mythical Scottish town, Brigadoon.  The story opens with American tourists getting lost in the foggy weather – kind of like this past fortnight.  They had been in the countryside to engage in the perfectly legitimate, lucrative tourist occupation of culling invasive species, (ie,  hunting).

  In times past, Brigadoon was beset by evil forces.

The pair sing the memorable songs  ‘no heather on the hill’ and ‘ A forestry-managing we will go’ as they look for deer to cull, carefully hanging warning signs all around them according to their risk assessment document.

The hunters discover the beautiful town of Brigadoon, with its rolling fields, sparkling granite and beautiful development opportunities.   Brigadoon only appears out of the mists once every hundred years.  In times past, Brigadoon was beset by evil forces.

Developers threatened to turn the fields to cheap houses and transform the market square into an iconic TIF project, and put wind turbines o’er land and sea.  So the local minister prayed, and magically Brigadoon was saved from over-development, urban sprawl  and unwanted forestry schemes by being hidden in time, only to appear once every 100 years (about as often as the No. 23 bus).

The villagers prepare for an upcoming wedding; the bridegroom sings ‘Go Home With Bonnie Jeannie’ , and the villagers all reply with a chorus of ‘Go Home, Ho Malone’.    One of the Americans falls in love with the range of development opportunities on offer, and the locals sing a chorus of ‘Scotland’s open for Business,’ and ‘Smart, Successful Scotland.’  He returns to the land of his granny (near enough) and opens a golf course.  Brigadoon is never seen again.

Braveheart: (proper noun; English) A documentary film made by Mel Gibson on the life of William Wallace.

This popular historic recreation has proven to the world that Scotland must be independent from England; it’s what Wallace would have wanted if he were here today.

These days some segments of the press are comparing Alex Salmond to Wallace for his unswerving moral code, his desire to uphold the rights of the common man against the wealthy and powerful, for painting his face with woad and going to battle for Scottish independence.

Apparently the referendum will be scheduled near the anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn , where Wallace saw the English off.  Salmond bravely rode into battle against Donald of Trump; he and his two merry administration men sailed to far, far New York.  Armed only with taxpayer money (about £6,300), Salmond and Trump engaged in combat at the Battle of Le Perigord (one of Manhattan’s most expensive restaurants).

I guess Salmond didn’t want to see anything that would discredit the great windfarm expert Trump

Both sides claim victory.  Salmond said windfarms were never discussed; Trump says Salmond promised no windfarms near the new Trump resort. Trump won a great victory over the moving sand dunes to tame this corner of Scotland, creating the world’s greatest golf course.

Alex Salmond is, however, not quite brave-hearted enough to watch the film ‘You’ve been trumped!’ .  He has declined several invitations to view it now, including its showing at Holyrood.

I guess Salmond didn’t want to see anything that would discredit the great windfarm expert Trump, whose address at Holyrood will go down in history for its grasp of science, economics and environmental concerns.  Or something.  This film has disturbing scenes of people being critical of The Donald and his flunkies, which some viewers might find upsetting.  The two documentary makers show Trump’s effects on the Scottish landscape and residents, as he changes nature to his own designs.

Some of these unappreciative locals selfishly refused to sell their homes to Trump and even complained when Trump’s minions  accidentally cut their water off and damaged their property.  The filmmakers were quite rightly arrested, and should have been hung, drawn and quartered for embarrassing Trump and Salmond with this film.

It is understood that any day now The Donald will create millions of jobs – cleaners, porters, dishwashers and maids wanted.

Alex Salmond, like Wallace, understands the importance of seeing what assistance foreign powers can bring to the struggle for Scotland’s independence. This is why Salmond allied himself with the great Rupert of Murdoch.  Alex  pledged his allegiance to Murdoch and apparently did all he could to help with the BskyB merger, and exchanged several messages with (soon to be former) culture secretary of the hated English, Jeremy Hunt.

This was apparently done to get the Murdoch empire to support the SNP.  Like Wallace, Salmond has been summoned to England to face his enemies at the Leveson enquiry, where he was asked to explain a few things.  For some reason Mr Murdoch said he could not remember anything about this matter.  Let’s hope Rupert’s memory improves sometime soon.

Freedom!

Brave: (proper noun; English) Animated tale of the real Scotland of ages past, complete with happy tartan-clad villagers, a princess and a witch or two.  Apparently soon to be part of the SQA curriculum for Scottish History.

Some years back, the Government and Scottish Enterprise were keen to tell the world that it was wrong to stereotype Scotland as the land of tartan, whisky, castles and sheep.  Times have changed.

According to News Net Scotland, here’s what they’re saying about ‘Brave’:-

“First Minister Alex Salmond said the movie presented a huge opportunity to promote Scotland and said: “This will present us with an immense opportunity when Scotland will be centre stage in the film with all the tourism and business opportunities this will bring.  I fully expect that as the film launches across the world, so will awareness of Scotland increase.  Brave will be the most high-profile film ever set in, and themed around, Scotland, featuring Scottish stars.”

VisitScotland chairman Mike Cantlay said:

“When better than in the Year of Creative Scotland, and where better than right here on Scottish soil, to launch Brave for the first time in Europe? 

“The film will showcase the scenery, humour and culture of Scotland, and we are looking forward to converting cinema-goers into visitors.”

  Why go and see this film, when for a mere £150 or so you can have a round of golf at Trump’s newest venture?

So there you have it – the first minister says that the most high-profile film ever set in Scotland is a cartoon with witches, banshees (no offence Aileen, Kate and Jennifer)  and castles.  Visit Scotland (which is now working with Disney to promote the film) says the film showcases the ‘scenery’ and ‘culture’ of Scotland.  We can at least look back on this film when Aberdeen is choked by housing developments to the loss of any green fields.

So bring on the new independent Scotland, battles in kilts and some witchcraft – that will put any old stereotypes to rest.

Local Hero: (proper noun) Award-winning cult film in which environmental concerns take precedence over greed.

This fantasy film depicts a Scotland which is ‘closed for business’ and as such should not be screened.  Worse still, it foreshadows  a very dubious film indeed…

you’ve been trumped: (proper noun) Multi-award-winning documentary depicting Donald Trump’s  quest for the world’s greatest golfcourse – whatever the cost.

Result!  The galaxy’s greatest golfcourse opened this week!  Why go and see this film, when for a mere £150 or so you can have a round of golf at Trump’s newest venture?

Old Susannah suggests that you might want to see this film yourself when it returns (in a newly edited version with extra footage) to the Belmont Cinema this week.  Saturday will see Baxter and many Menie residents come along (1:15 and 6:00 showings as well as 11:00 am). Details at http://www.picturehouses.co.uk/cinema/Belmont_Picturehouse/film/Youve_Been_Trumped/

Hope to see you there, so you can judge for yourself who is in the right:  an honest American tycoon trying to make an honest pound, or the area residents, mainstream Scottish media, and little-known documentary maker, Michael Moore.

Quotes:

“I heard it was boring.  I heard it wasn’t good.”
— Donald J. Trump (Property Developer)

“Factually challenged”
— George Sorial  (Trump spokesperson)

“I didn’t think I could be shocked by the abuses money and power can inflict on ordinary people, but Anthony Baxter, with a calm but steely determination, exposes the way a ruthless, greedy thug can corrupt the state, the police, the media and academia. …When a handful of decent Scottish people try to defend their homes and their environment from destruction, the angry billionaire seeks to crush them.  For showing us the reality of this “development”, Baxter is intimidated, harassed and bullied. But he succeeds in giving us a film as magnificent as the landscape he tries to save, and as warm and principled as the people who live in it.”
— Jeremy Hardy, BBC

“An amazing film….Director Anthony Baxter throws a spotlight on the contemptuous way in which Trump deals with the residents.  But most controversial of all is the way in which the potential environmental damage caused by the development has been disregarded because of the perceived benefits to the local economy.”
— Bob Ward, The Guardian

 “This is a real eye opener of a film, and a cracking piece of filmmaking from Baxter, who uses his own nous, nerve and a few judicious clips from Local Hero besides, to make a compelling case. See it and decide for yourself who are the real Brave Hearts in this tale.”
— Glasgow Herald

“A quietly angry and important film that will inspire plenty of ire in anyone frustrated by the way money and power frequently crushes anything in its path.”
— The Scotsman

“Rogue filmmaker Anthony Baxter entered the front lines of the fight against the developers to capture the outrage of the locals, who stood tall against bulldozers even as their own police force aided Trump’s henchmen in protecting his project.  This shocking investigative film aims to hold Trump—and anyone else who puts personal gain ahead of the environment—accountable for their actions as it documents a protest that still wages on.”
— Michael Moore’s Traverse City Film Festival (Winner, Special Jury Prize)

See you in the funny pictures.

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Murdoch’s Muppets

 Articles, Creative Writing, Opinion, Satire and Humour  No Responses »
Jul 222011
 

By Bob Smith.

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Yon Murdoch mannie’s nae happy
In fact he’s jist fair pit oot
The NOTW accused o hackin phones
An pyein oor bobbies aff wi loot

Papers fer some mony ears
Hiv hid ower muckle swye
Politicians aa feart ti act
In case they’re hung oot ti dry

The investigative journalist hack
We still o coorse div need
Bit nae the type faa brak the rules
Jist ti satisfy Murdoch’s greed

Noo fowk faa bocht his papers
Some class  a Murdoch Muppet
An aa helpit prop up his empire
Oot his brose bowl they hiv suppit

Lit’s nae forget oor local lot
Faa git up ti aa sorts o capers
As promoters o  yon Donald Trump
Losh he’s nivver oot their papers 

The P&J shud bi worried
If its practices are reviewed
Ower lang its hid a monopoly
Gweed fowk’s views are screwed

Fae Lowrenkirk ti Lerwick
An ower wast ti Stornoway
The daily fit rules the roost?
It’s the bliddy P&J

It’s nae eese noo girnin
Ti thon lot at thePCC
We need fowk fa are independent
An fae press barons wull bide free

Ye’ll nae fin me greetin
If Murdoch he gings bust
An aa his media empire
It finally bites the dust

The only Murdoch a div like
Is fae “Sunday Post’s” comic stuff
An aul farrant sort o bobby
He’d  hae Rupert in hauncuffs 

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2011
Image credit: © Christopher Hall | Dreamstime.com 

 

An Interview With A Scottish Legend

 Articles, Creative Writing, Satire and Humour  No Responses »
Dec 172010
 

By Gubby Plenderleith.

I had arrived early and not a little nervous at Dundee’s Trocadero Restaurant to interview a man who has been a Scottish legend for over sixty years.  My anxiety however, owed more to his reputation as a hell-raiser and the countless stories of his encounters with fellow journalists, in which the denizens of the fourth estate had unfailingly come off second best, than to his celebrity status.

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I also expected – and secretly hoped – that, again in line with his notoriety, he would fail to show, or at least arrive so late (and so inebriated) that any interview with him would be impossible and I could escape the feared ordeal while still retaining a degree of credibility.

It was not to be.  At exactly one o’clock (as arranged) a rather distinguished silver haired man, wearing a black Armani suit and a pearl grey collarless shirt, entered the restaurant and almost glided up to my table.

A warm smile spread across his tanned face as he held out a friendly hand in greeting.  “William McCallum,” he said in a soft, transatlantic voice, “Pleased to meet you.  Please, call me Bill”.

As I took the extended hand, I found it hard to believe that I was face to face with the famed “Oor Wullie” of my Sunday morning childhood and, more to the point, that I was here to interview and have lunch with him.  “They tell me the langoustine are excellent here”, he almost whispers.  “I’m almost vegetarian these days – certainly no red meat, but I still eat the occasional chicken and I absolutely adore fish”.

Suddenly my previous apprehension has disappeared and I’m unexpectedly enjoying the experience of sitting in one of the swankiest eateries this side of Watford Gap with the most famous man in Scotland.  “Don’t be frightened to ask me anything you want”, he invites, “I’ve learned to confront my past and nothing can hurt me any more.  The way I see it”, he says, taking a sip of Pellegrino, “what was happening back then was happening to Wullie, not to Bill McCallum.  All these stories about my debauched lifestyle that was just …”, he looks away for a moment, searching for the right word, “… mince!”

“But,” I ask him, “What of those stories about him and Primrose, how they were reputed to be caught up in the drug scene, consorting with underworld gang bosses and throwing wild orgies in his baronial castle on Tayside”.

“Ah, Primrose”, he whispers wistfully, “we’re still very close.  I’m godfather to her youngest boy and often visit she and her husband at their home in Luss”.

“But… the parties and the gangland connections – put it down to being a daft boy.  I was a daft boy, after all.  I mean, I came from a working class background and was suddenly catapulted into the limelight at the age of nine – what kind of chance did I have?  In some ways, it was my own personal zeitgeist, if that doesn’t sound too much like some sort of aphorism”.

“But don’t get me wrong”, he smiles, “I’m not trying to make excuses.  Sure, with a bit of discipline, I could have avoided all of that.  But I didn’t have the education and my mother and father didn’t have the education, or the experience of money either, to keep me on the straight and narrow”.

“Still”, he says, “things didn’t work out too bad in the end.  I bought my parents a place in Millport where they saw out their years and I’ve got myself a fairly decent place in Provence….And all these stories. Well”, he smiles, “a lot of these were made up by the press, especially the paper I used to work for”, he winks, “But I’m not allowed to mention the name of that – it was part of the court settlement”.  I nod.

“What about Eck, Boab and Soapy, I ask.  “and PC Murdoch”?

“Murdoch!” he laughs, “I could tell you a few tales about him, all right!  I hope you were never taken in by his avuncular – what’s the word we used to use? – couthiness!  Bent as a bloody trombone that one.  It was his partner Trevor I used to feel sorry for.  Old Trev would sit up waiting for him ’til the early hours while the bold boy was out trawling round the gay bars, picking up every bit of rough that took his fancy. I used to tell him that he was being unfair to Trevor, but he just used to laugh.  ‘Ooh, you’re so masterful when you’re angry, dear heart’ he used to say.

“At least old Trev did all right when Murdoch passed on.  Left him everything in his will and he bought a nice little bungalow out at Brought Ferry.  Lives there with his cats.  I still visit him occasionally when I’m in the country”.

“But the others”, I remind him, “Boab and Soapy and …”

“Sure”, he says, “I still see them from time to time although, admittedly, not so much now.  You wouldn’t recognise Boab these days”, he sighs, “He’s almost anorexic, went on some fancy diet and the pounds just dropped off.  Doing well for himself too.  Has his own business, a big house and nine grandchildren.

“Wee Eck’s another story altogether”, a pained expression appears on his face, “he was the unlucky one.  I managed to kick the drugs and the booze, but Eck…”, he shakes his head.

“..and what about Soapy?”, I ask.

He brightens, “Ah Soapy, he was the luckiest of them all.  Stayed on at school, went on to university, then changed his name and went into politics.  Did very well too”.

I ask him what Soapy’s name is now.

“Ah“, he says, tapping the side of his nose knowingly, “that would be telling.  Let’s just say he‘s working in Edinburgh now and you‘d know his name if I told you”.

“So everything worked out OK in the end?”, I ask.

“Oh, yes, everything worked out in the end”, he says.

As I slip the car into gear and start to head out of Dundee on my journey home, I suddenly realise that I’ve just been in the company of one of Scotland’s national treasures and not only have I survived it but I’ve enjoyed every minute and found it a strangely humbling experience.

Refs Blow Whistle On Abuse

 Aberdeen City, Articles, Opinion, Sport  No Responses »
Nov 262010
 

Voice’s David Innes, a sometime bastard in the black, looks at this week’s threatened strike by SPL referees after weeks of controversy.

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When Willie Collum sent Rory McArdle off at Pittodrie last week, I joined with the rest of the fair-minded, judicious and sagely punters of Section Y in ranting foul-mouthedly about the ref’s dubious lineage, his resemblance to both male and female external reproductive organs and the fact that were he ever to join the Mile High Club, it would be a solo flight.

I was not the worst, but I held my own. Just as we were accusing him of doing, I suppose. That’s where it ended though. No matter what resentment I felt at Collum’s performance, it’s over, it’s in the past and I’m now more concerned about where we’ll be in the table come the festive season.
I think that’s the way most fans take these things. We rage when things go against us but suffer memory blanks for decisions which have gone in our favour. We rant, we rave, we slaver and gnash our teeth, but accept it stoically as part of the game. And we should not forget that it IS just a game.

I cannot understand what goes on in the minds of supporters who insist on taking these things further, to the extent of threatening referees, their homes and property and their families. What sort of empty lives must such individuals and mobs lead to make them behave in such a way? I’m as fanatical as the next fan about my team, I love to see them winning – and it will happen again, believe – and can take defeat badly especially against certain teams.

Of course, I have long held the opinion that those who wish to associate themselves with the alien and discriminatory cultures at certain successful clubs, having no local or cultural affinity with those clubs have something missing from their lives anyway, but that is another debate.

Referees are now threatening to strike because they feel their integrity has been called into question. Dougie McDonald has admitted lying and should resign. That would not be the end of the matter, I’m sure, despite what some influential people claim. Before long, some other poor sap in black would be accused of being part of the conspiracy against whoever feels slighted and who cannot accept that some days you’re the doo and on others, you’re the statue.

Being called a wanker by 10-year olds quickly loses its precocious charm

Do I support the strike? Yes, and not just because of the high profile issue currently exciting Jimmy Inarticulate, first-time caller by the way Jim, and readers of the Daily Paps.

In years gone by, as a fitba coach asked to referee games every week, I thought I’d better do the knowledge and make sure that every time I blew the Acme Thunderer that I knew what the hell I was deciding. I went over to the Dark Side, turned from poacher to gamie, took the king’s shilling and became a bastard in the black. It was great fun. I learned a lot. I found out that playground-ingrained received wisdom was, well, not really wise at all.

I didn’t last too long doing it as a favour to kids’ teams though. Being called a wanker by 10-year olds quickly loses its precocious charm. Dealing with boorish coaches who believed they were Alex Ferguson and who seemed intent on acting out their own fitba fantasies by instructing bairns to kick and maim other bairns saddened me. Doing the right thing by talking to players, telling ‘keepers, “Aye, it’s OK to pick it up, it wisna a pass back” or taking 5 minutes at half time to instruct a constantly-infringing team on the correct way to take a throw-in but being abused by grown men on the sidelines for so doing wasn’t an ideal way to spend a sleety Sunday morning at Aulton.

Watching 9 year olds dive outrageously to try to win penalties (not on MY watch, sonny) and adopt other “professional” insidiousness they had seen on Murdoch TV disillusioned me. It did the same to many of my peers who began with less cynicism than I had. We just became “unavailable” when asked. The message got through quickly enough and the calls stopped.

It begins at that level. It reaches its pathetic zenith at professional level. Someone’s going to get hurt and by then it will be too late for recriminations and hand-wringing.

Have your strike, comrades. It’s unlikely that I’ll be at an SPL game this week, but I’d happily join in the “scab” chants at the shoehorned-in replacements who will be adding to the problem rather than help solve it.