Ra Walkout!
Friday 6:15 p.m.
When I was working in the aluminium smelter in Fort William after my first year at university, I met an old joe called Pat Murphy. You don't have to ask someone called Pat Murphy what school he went to. Pat told me the last time he was in a chapel was when the priest told the congregration they had to back General Franco during the Spanish Civil War. (Franco was leading a revolt against a democratically elected government and was a fascist pal of Hitler).
I told Pat what did it for me was the basturn priest telling the congregation that, after all, the Pope was banning contraception, that this was a matter of conscience, but that your conscience had to be guided by the church. Wouldn't it have been great if someone had stood up and said, Go fung yourself!
So I went to see the auld maw today. Straight away she's going on about this bulletin that was handed out at the chapel, explaining Bishop Devine's attitude to voting for the Labour Party at the elections next week. The Bishop doesn't say who he's voting for, but it's not Labour because of the party's attitude to what he termed the family.
The Labour Party and the tims in the west have been hand in glove since the Labour Party started. The tims were all miners and steelworkers. I was told the Labour Party godfather in Bellshill walked out of the chapel during the sermon about how the congregation shouldn't vote Labour. Well done, Harry! Gone yourself, son!
It's like the ground just moved beneath my feet!
I met a very nice actor called John Greive who was in the first play I had broadcast, called The Marijuana Kid. He was well known, partly for acting in Para Handy. At the time I might have thought John Greive was one of these odd Scottish nationalist people (this was circa 1982) because, in the pub, he was rather adamant that there was nothing worse than a toady, and no worse toady than one who toadied to the English. (For those of you not fortunate enough to be Scottish, a toady is a sycophantic, engratiating, favour currying, little freepong!)
When I was working in the aluminium smelter in Fort William after my first year at university, I met an old joe called Pat Murphy. You don't have to ask someone called Pat Murphy what school he went to. Pat told me the last time he was in a chapel was when the priest told the congregration they had to back General Franco during the Spanish Civil War. (Franco was leading a revolt against a democratically elected government and was a fascist pal of Hitler).
I told Pat what did it for me was the basturn priest telling the congregation that, after all, the Pope was banning contraception, that this was a matter of conscience, but that your conscience had to be guided by the church. Wouldn't it have been great if someone had stood up and said, Go fung yourself!
So I went to see the auld maw today. Straight away she's going on about this bulletin that was handed out at the chapel, explaining Bishop Devine's attitude to voting for the Labour Party at the elections next week. The Bishop doesn't say who he's voting for, but it's not Labour because of the party's attitude to what he termed the family.
The Labour Party and the tims in the west have been hand in glove since the Labour Party started. The tims were all miners and steelworkers. I was told the Labour Party godfather in Bellshill walked out of the chapel during the sermon about how the congregation shouldn't vote Labour. Well done, Harry! Gone yourself, son!
It's like the ground just moved beneath my feet!
I met a very nice actor called John Greive who was in the first play I had broadcast, called The Marijuana Kid. He was well known, partly for acting in Para Handy. At the time I might have thought John Greive was one of these odd Scottish nationalist people (this was circa 1982) because, in the pub, he was rather adamant that there was nothing worse than a toady, and no worse toady than one who toadied to the English. (For those of you not fortunate enough to be Scottish, a toady is a sycophantic, engratiating, favour currying, little freepong!)
posted by Hotboy at 6:14 PM
9 Comments:
I say!
"I think I'll go an throw up in the allotment!" - is this a new form of fertilizer?
Cabbage was asking how are your onions doing?
MM III
Bishop Devine- what a great predestined name. I also approve wholeheartedly of the Catholic Church's appointment of Primates, e.g. the Primate of Ireland. These are just some of the reasons that if I ever receive a faith, it will be Catholic.
Mingin'! Ra onions are sprouting. I think I should just eat the tops before they go yellow with neglect, etc. Tell Cabbage his skills are required even if he can't do the clicky stuff! Hotboy
Ion: You should,of course, get on your knees a beg to be the second member ... of the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid! Primates all, I can assure you. Of you're not a primate, you don't get any bananas! Hotboy
Ion: Devine? A bunch of Devines stayed next door when I was a boy. Not divine at all! Hotboy
John Grieve was brilliant as Dan Mcphail in the vital spark. In fact all the actors were. Why don't they re-broadcast that?
Thank God the papa has come out with the amnesty on infants who die unbaptised. I think it's even retrospective, perhaps even B.C. And they say the church never moves with the times!
They did an inferior colour remake in the 70s, but at least the brilliant Gregor Fisher was in it. I met him briefly at a party while we were kids.
In case you don't read your comments at old posts - tell the sultry Caribbean one I still remember the dinner she cooked me, and The Land Of Grey And Pink. That has to impress.
If there are either meerkats or lemurs involved, I'm in. I feel sure they demonstrate Catholic family values.
I say!
"...tell the sultry Caribbean one I still remember the dinner she cooked me..."
The question was - do you want another go?
MM III
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