By Dave Watt.
There you go. Giving them £41.5 million a year isn’t enough. You have to pray for them as well. 
With the ConDem government introducing what is widely accepted to be the new Screw The Underprivileged measures almost hourly you might think there are others in our society more in need of prayers but Gilcomston Church would appear to see things differently.
By Dave Watt
Hello Subjects,
Although a lot of people wouldn’t think so, old Johnny Politics gets a fair run out at Buck House, Balmoral and Windsor. Actually, far from the popular conception of our being the ultimate establishment figures the whole family is full of lefties of one kind or another and, of course, we’re all republicans. Needless to say this is not generally known and we’ve had to do some pretty convincing handsprings in the past to keep it quiet.
Hello Subjects
Here is one putting pen to paper on your behalf once again. Well, what a to-do about the Union Terrace Gardens, eh? One simply couldn’t believe that even a jumped-up, nouveau-riche oik like the odious Wood would try to desecrate the centre of the Granite City with his ridiculous vanity project.
That was bad enough but when we heard that crowd of bludgers in the city council had actually passed it! Well, I’ve haven’t seen Mumsy so peed off since that dreadful Thatcher woman came on a visit and Ma found her in the guest bedroom trying on her crown. The flat-heeled sensible Clarks Ladies shoes were flying that day, I can tell you. As the visiting Australian Cultural Attache aptly remarked at the time , “Yer ma’s farting sparks today, son”.
Anyway, back to the day of the council vote. Obviously, the family’s first response was to get tooled up with polo mallets, climb into the Range Rover then zip into town and give the spineless curs a good seeing-to while Mumsy, (having what the family calls ‘One of Her Little Pol Pot Moments’) was all for having the little bastards shot for treason.
Unfortunately, when we got to the garage, accompanied by the corgis, who are always up for a ruck, we discovered that Dad had taken the Range Rover and left it at the airport on his way to the demos in Greece. So instead of being available for us it was sitting at Aberdeen Airport clocking up parking fees like nobody’s business. There’s your typical bloody anarchist for you – never around when you need them.