On Wednesday and Thursday of this week, Scotland’s newspapers were emblazoned with the unsavoury story of Greggs discontinuing Macaroni Pies from their line. You can forgive the tabloids, it was the perfect red top story, fun, petty, silly, something the readership would jump aboard.
By the time the issue opened FMQs on Thursday I felt angered and disgusted by it. The first question in our country’s parliament? At the time (before the attack in Tunisia) America had to deal with serious hefty issues like race and gun law. Greece were trying everything to avert global economic abyss. Scotland? Well we were discussing a pie being discontinued at Greggs.
I despair of that banter, aren’t we just so funny, hurricane baw-bag, we’re pure crazy hands off our pies, Smeato’s pure mental, small nation small mindedness. I call it the McZeitgest. The story that seems to connect with certain aspects of the Scottish psyche, usually fuelled by Twitter and Facebook. A fear of not being part of something that’s popular on social media.
The pie scam turned out to be a jape apparently, a social media experiment to see how many people would sign a petition and how many celebrities would jump aboard what they perceived to be a popular movement.
It’s a side of the Scottish psyche and mentality I’ve always find hard to stomach. The wee coothy nowt like us laughing at ourselves and we are pure magic. Amazing how quickly all the celebs and politicians went quiet when they were left with pie on their face and realised they’d been had.
Drum tech required for World Tour…
Dear Head of Programming,
I’m a white, able-bodied Christian, (small c lapsed) practicing heterosexual without a speech impediment, or dramatic/tragic back-story, no chunky media glasses, hipster beard or tattoo. I’m quite normal. I don’t have any major drink or drug issues, I’ve never knowingly punched a producer or insulted any other ethnic or religious minority.
Please find my non politically correct sitcom about diversity and sexism Phewaaaaarrr Cor Blimey Check The Bouncers on That; Bloody Foreigners Eh? Which I hope manages to convey the idiocy of diversity and quotas attached.
Yours etc etc…
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I’ve always loved the poetry of Robert Frost. We didn’t get much in the way of Frost in Scottish schools, only on the playground or when it approached Baltic levels and the heating packed in the huts. Frost apparently wrote it in one sitting, in one evening, it’s so simple and effective.
Fans of the Sopranos will recognise this too. It was the poem AJ was trying to understand for homework and Meadow helped explain…