That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009


British snow for British workers

“...and that floating hotel they’ve got? Five star."
“um, it looks like a prison barge to me…”
“It’s a palace. Cinema and everything.”

Lloyd has that way, that signature way, of the drinker, smoker, and cod philosopher of holding a glass of whisky and cigarette in the same hand.

“Some of them are on two and three hundred pound a week, all found."


He is my host and a generous one. He has given me use of cruet and included me in tonight’s lock-in so I must hide my lack of grace. It would be bad form otherwise. It would be shocking bad form, even for me. The fact I have a bar tab has nothing to do with it.

“Lazy shiftless bastards the lot of them…”
“The Italians?”

“…no! Those Bolshie union men from Lincolnshire. Never liked Wiltshire neither, don’t ask me why.”

Like all Other People, he has no rigour, he is unfamiliar with parallax let alone method, to him, it is axiomatic. Thankfully the news screen has changed to Africa. Quick drag on his Lambert & Butler;

“He’s another one. I’ve gone right off him.”
“Mandela?”
“Yeah, look at him, bloody rolling in it, he’s minted that one.”
“Well, I don’t know…
“AND him!
"
“Morgan Tsvangirai?”
“That’s him. Shandy Rye! Yeah, coining it in, he is. Smith was right. Look what they’ve done to the place, bloody shambles. From your neck of the woods too, I believe.”
“Never!”
“Yes! Smith’s father was a jock butcher from Kirkintilloch, I’m telling you…”


With the ease of a boy playing cowboys and Indians, he can extend his first two fingers, Superking and all, and make a gun to aim in my face to emphasise the points as he goes; “That’s… what… I’m… saying…” ( bang… bang… bang…)




Pair of Collared doves snuggling up in the cold in Perthshire.
Click on the picture to see the pair of them. This is all Sarah's fault.

70 comments:

Mrs Pouncer said...

Well, yes. And Archbishop Desmond Tutu. dyk that he gets a hand and foot massage every morning from a so-called therapist? Saw it on TV. And I distinctly heard him say "while you're down there, doll".

savannah said...

ya'll do run with an interesting crowd, sugar. ah dew think we'll raise a glass ya'll's way later this afternoon...

Kim Ayres said...

You do keep such pleasant company, Doc. Which reminds me, it must be 18 months or more since you said you'd buy me the next lunch.

Dr Maroon said...

Clarissa, as a matter of fact I did know that. Tutu's body servant is the granddaughter of an old friend of mine. Very sturdy girl. Her perineum has the grip of a vice. Or so I am told.
The sooner there are more female world leaders of the calibre of Tzipi Livni the better. She is ex Mossad so she’ll bring a bit of steel with her thank God.


Savannah I shall raise my glass right back at ya!
xoxox ;)

Dr Maroon said...

Sorry Kim, we crossed.
Were you not on masterchef last night?
I claim my £10 and, and a nice stuffed chicken breast with chesnuts and broad bean coulee.

Conan Drumm said...

Livni' it up, were you?

Ché l'écossais said...

There's one in every bar from here to Timbuktu.
I rue the day the Daily Mail goes under - they won't know where to get their opinions from anymore.
Personally, I blame that brown, sorry, Brown fellow.

savannah said...

xoxoxoxo (because i forgot to leave them earlier!)

Mrs Pouncer said...

Extraordinaire! I am doing my pelvic floor exercises as we speak.
Gotta love Tzipi - particularly now that Erdan has called her "delusional". I feel sure she will show her quality (ex-Operation Bayonet and her dear old dad a high-up in Irgun). Be honest: what's not to love?

scarlet-blue said...

But there's bingo on those barges!
Sx

Dr Maroon said...

Eyes down for a full house, Scarls my lovely.
Ax

xoxox Savannah, bottoms up.

Che, I wouldn't say but you are right! It is usually me. Your drawings are tres bon, bee tee doubleyou. What'll you take? Let me think, what about some empire vatted?
Cheers, get that down you.

Conan, I certainly was. I am moving in high circles now, well it feels like it anyway.

Dr Maroon said...

Clarissa, she will be our saviour. I cannot believe how young and vital she is and she was operational (as we both know) in the eighties fergoadssake!
Israel's Labour party better not drop the ball on this one; I've just had her picture framed and I'n not changing it for Benjy, he had his chance and blew it.

Mrs Pouncer said...

What sort of frame? Spelter, I imagine. I feel that you are cutting corners at the moment, Dr Maroon. Skimping. Zinc alloy is not good enough, as you know. Surely you have something weightier in sterling silver, backed with red velvet? Remember: spelter is the slippery slope to homecrafted frames in passepartout.

inkspot said...

Bedroom window? Not a railway carriage stuck in a drift on the Crieff spur?

If you're buying lunch for Ayres, can the rest of us come too? There's a nice place in South Queensferry I gather, and we can throw snowballs at Gordon Brown afterwards.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Well hello Inky, how are you? You never call, you never write, oi gevald! I don't dare ask how you treat your mother. Anyhoo, I hope you're not talking about the ghastly old Orocco Pier, are you? I had the WORST service I've ever experienced at that gloomsome refectory, and the napkins were a fucking disgrace.

Dr Maroon said...

Clarissa, surely Inky is talking about The Dakota, a two Michelin star restaurant where the steak tartare is worth the quizzical looks.
I had it when I was important about 38 months ago…tres bon.
Inky, if you’re up for it, so am I. I will have to bring Aryes. I’m sorry, but he is my philosopher and what gentleman steps out without his philosopher these days?

Dr Maroon said...

Clarissa, spelter is the very worst of metals. How many times?
If you are cut with any zinc alloy it does not heal. It is a non kosher metal. Oi gevald.
Any establishment that cannot handle the mitre, the swan,the twin peak, with their napkins, should be burnt to the ground with their patrons and staff.
Napkins maketh the meal.

Mrs Pouncer said...

The problem with people like you and Inky is that it's all style over substance. The Dakota is nothing more than an over-engineered feedbag, recently exposed for getting fish from Wrights of Borough Market. Yes, Borough Market in LONDON. Appalling. I'd rather eat at a Model Lodging House, so help me God, I would.

Mrs Pouncer said...

The worst napkins I ever saw where at the Fat Duck. That was the night I had to eat nitro-scrambled eggs with a leather jus. Thank God I am an Englishwoman. Imagine how the weaker races would react!

Mrs Pouncer said...

Sorry, "were".

Dr Maroon said...

Well, may I say that the for pure pleasure, one cannot beat the "feedbag" as you put it.
To be blunt, I have often found myself dreaming of pigging out on just such a feast.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Oh yeah, I just remembered! I must've buried that reference somewhere. Your text seems a little disjointed; have you been drinking?

Dr Maroon said...

And another thing, the meals at a Model Lodging House, are incredibly familiar. We would recognise them immediately. Jam roly poly, lentil soup, old tramps trousers, dead mens leg, fly cemetry, dogs vomit, milkmans durex, and all the rest. Exactly. The very provender that made Britain great and our armed forces feared thropughout the world.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Thropugout. You have been drinking, you old modler. QC?

Dr Maroon said...

oui.



Um,fancy some congenial company?

Sarah said...

i used to smoke Benson & Hedges.. i miss smoking.

you may be an engineer, but you have a way with words maroon - that makes me want to read. and that's saying something.

Sarah said...

oh and beautiful picture. i see the birds you were referring to in your reply to mine in the previous post.

i was referring to shooting me an e-mail. but a nice lunch would do as well.

savannah said...

maroon communicates via email? sigh

inkspot said...

It must be the Dakota, I'd forgotten the name even if I'd ever known it.

But the menu has mushy peas (the horror, the horror), Alaskan salmon (in Scotland!?) and, I kid you not, "Welsh rabbit or rarebit". Make your fucking mind up. The collapse of RBS has shaken the confidence of a nation, it seems.

Dr Maroon said...

Sarah, what on earth can you mean, "...you may be an engineer,"
Of course I am an engineer.
Ask anyone. Sheesh.
I didn't get where I am today.
I will post a picture of the two collared doves (what I took) to prove to the doubters it was taken from my boudoir. It was totally snowing like buggery at the time.

Savannah, I send the odd email (very odd) but as to "communicate" - I dunno.
I can't string an sentance together not so well.

Inky no way does the Dak serve mushy peas, ironic retro revivalism or not. No. Never.
Did you see the RBS chairman getting grilled by the select committee? Best TV in months.
"We, the taxpayer, gave you 20 billion. Please tell the committee how much is left"
"Hee haw."
"I see."

savannah said...

xoxoxo anyway take care of ya'll's dear self, sugar, i am starting to worry about ya'll! ;/

savannah said...

thank you, sugar! and ya'll know why! xoxoxo

Jimmy Bastard said...

A Jock butcher fae Kirkintilloch? Holy hell, they'll be getting the electricity there before you know it.

PI said...

Wait till you get teenage grandchildren - you won't be allowed to voice such sentiments - even if they are not yours.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Inky, I would prefer to be taken to Stac Polly, which is what Maroon promised me last summer. In reality, I languished in the Caledonian Hotel while he lay stotious in the Model Lodging House, with an individual MacSween's haggis pressed between two matzos. Or so he said.
Maroon, you are right. There is nothing left: hee-haw. The whole jingbang - spent. The ball's up on the slates.

Mrs Pouncer said...

(Sorry, Dr Maroon, but it's a slow day and I have the bit between my teeth, hemhem).

Hello, Mr Bastard. Dr Maroon is wrong, and I really can't imagine which simpleton gave him such erroneous material. Ian Smith's father came from HAMILTON, a gloomsome purlieu to be sure. Other famous Hamiltonians include Big Simon Clark, the unpopular and unsuccessful wrestler, and Claude Thirst, Licensed Victualler. Luckily, Claude moved to the South East within the first year of life and has no discernible accent. He is currently Mine Host at a popular hostelry just off the A4 in Berkshire.

Jimmy Bastard said...

Och aye Mrs P. The Smith family fae Hamilton is it? I know their oldest son John in Amerikay.
Big family, the Smiths, used to be on the milk in East Kilbride until the horse up and dies. Terrible business that.. terrible.

The oul fella nearly lost an eye in the rammie, but luckily missus McPhee's boy from number 27 was a Polis, and he stepped in and squared it all away after a swee swally and a blather in the Black Swan.
They moved house in an auld co-op van on the following Friday, and no one has seen them since the big fire in 73.

I did get a postcard from Clydebank one Lent, but not a word since.

savannah said...

is there a translator available, sugar? and al ya'll thought i talked funny! xoxox

Sarah said...

i completely believed that you took the photo. who was doubting?

only you can take a compliment and turn it into an insult, i won't be part of that.

i'm an engineer as well.. although not on the scale that you are.. clearly. i merely push buttons and enjoy the title.

inkspot said...

The mushy peas are on the Dakota's website. Stac Pollaidh must be an improvement.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Stac Pollaidh, Inky? Do they keep Glen Craioghdoan there?

Anonymous said...

Inky Stac Polly the Dublin Street one, does a fantastic meat soup with floating plover's egg and some wonderful sprats grilled in Lurpac.

Sarah my lovely, I know you knew I took the picture, or are you pulling my chain? Is this the dreaded Harry Hutton double bluff impasse?
Christ remember them? Barbudo and Foot Eater were the worst for them.
An engineer eh? Do you own the cast iron ring of Gondor or whatever it's called? (no shit, google it if you don't believe me) so beloved of American engineers? If you ain't got a cast iron ring, I don't wanna know.

Mr Bastard! May I call you James? Come away in, you'll have had your tea, but what about a half? Name your preference. I have it, what about a nice Glen Craioghdoan?

Dr Maroon said...

Sorry everyone, that was me. Hadn't signed in, Jesus it's like the bloody Golden Shot

Bernie, the bolt.

Dr Maroon said...

Christ Clarissa, you just beat me to it.
And thank you so much for entertaining Mr Bastard for us while I was elsewhere employed. He is Glaswegian and a friend of Savannah's and Scarlet's so we'll have to watch him.

That goes for EVERYBODY. Please keep an eye on Mr Bastard until we count the fishforks.

Dr Maroon said...

Pat, I hope neither of my gells has any progeny with the unsatisfactory partners they have chosen, let alone teenage ones.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Actually, you're wrong. I've spoken to Scarl, and she tells me that Mr Bastard is actually from Carlisle, and is distantly related to Bertram Mills or Billy Smart; one of those anyway. And he's teetotal, so you can put that Glen Craioghdoan away. I wonder what sort of tea he drinks?

Dr Maroon said...

http://www.order-of-the-engineer.org/

here's the link, unbelievers.

Dr Maroon said...

I think it will be green tea. It's very cleansing.

Dr Maroon said...

What is an Engineer's Ring?

The Engineer's Ring in the United States is a stainless steel ring, worn on the fifth finger of the working hand by engineers who have accepted the Obligation of an Engineer in a Ring Ceremony. In Canada, the Engineer's Ring is a wrought iron ring accepted by engineers inducted into the Ritual of the Calling of an Engineer in a secret ceremony.

Mrs Pouncer said...

The fifth finger of the working hand, Maroon? Well, I never.

Dr Maroon said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Dr Maroon said...

As you know, only one of our hands actually works, the other is just for show.
I don't like to talk about it but the oath of obligation was particularly trying.
I had to calculate gas mass flow in a Lancashire furnace while being paddled by Carol Vordmann (not that one)

Mrs Pouncer said...

Or for hailing taxis. Which reminds me, you stiffed me for the last fare, and it was over £20! You are a very generous tipper with other people's money.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Cincherino. An eight foot furnace would pass about eight thousand cubic feet of air a minute. If you take the velocity of the air and the area of the downcast shaft, and the height of the upcast shaft. You could measure the velocity, theoretically, if you knew the temperatures of the respective shafts. And the temp of the exterior air.

I am going out now.

Dr Maroon said...

Goin' out? Not me, but if I ain't in bed by 12:00 I'm going home.

savannah said...

jimmy is indeed a friend of mine, sugar...a very close and dear friend! i think mrs. pouncer is having a bit of fun at your expense, darling! xoxoxo

savannah said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sarah said...

i do remember those days Maroon..

i'm not an uppity engineer belonging to any secret society of tossers and pricks.

that would be the place of the man-folk. engineering is still a man's world. i am a rarity.

Dr Maroon said...

Savannah, Jimmy is a Glaswegian just like me. This is called "banter" in that dear green place. Jimmy will be used to it. It is the playful ribbing that passes for polite conversation among my fellow citizens. It is a mixture of sarcasm and deliberate misunderstanding. We are well known for it. It is shipyard small-talk, nothing more. Trust me.

Sarah, I am only jealous. We have nothing like that over here. The nearest we have are the Knights of Malta, but I’m not meant to talk about them. I will start my own secret society of engineers, I’ll be the boss and only other engineers will get in. You can join if you want. There will be no rituals unless you can think of funny ones and the meetings will consist of sitting around getting drunk and calling Finance Directors a bunch of bastards.

Mrs Pouncer said...

I spose you've seen the news. Fuck. I think it was Jericho South that did for Tzipi. What a gloomsome day for democracy, that's for sure. And to think how jubilant and generous we were with our congrats to the Yanks when their man romped home. I was kinda hoping for some reciprocal backslapping across the ether.
Benjy! Pah!

Jimmy Bastard said...

Merciful heavens, if I'm ever feeling awfy peely-wally again,ahm gonnae be putting my heid around the door here for the Doc. It'll be worth the walk fae Drumchapel, even if it is baltic outside again the day.

Spending 5 minutes with Doctor Patter is better than a stroll along the dockside at Largs, eating ma piece and sausage and washing it doon with a fine vintaged bottle ahv chilled buckie.

Now.. i'm away down the barras with them oul forks.. and for the love of god, leave the door on the latch, I may be back in for them dusty lookin spoons.

savannah said...

thank you for that explanation of regional jocularity and familiarity, sugar. xoxox

scarlet-blue said...

Oh blimey...
Mr Jimmy is lovely.
Sx

Dr Maroon said...

Clarissa, isn't it just dreadful?
Those bloody labour peacenik gits!
You would think wouldn't you, that for five Godamn minutes they could stuff their kibbutzy homespun socialism up their jumpers for the good of the country. Well I warned you and I wish I hadn’t now. Too many bad things in the ether.

Talking of which, Jimmy! You are too, too kind. Come away in whenever, and take your usual. Peely wally?
Here; you’re no’ the Jimmy Bastard that used to jump about with big Isa from the multis are you?
I knew it. You are remarkable, as I have often said.

Sav, Don’t mention it sugar xoxox

Scarls, New Tricks came on the TV last night and before I could switch it off the most unfeasibly buxom detective wobbled on in a low cut little black number. I thought of you. Sorry. No offence.
Ax.

Mrs Pouncer said...

And, back to me.

Well, that's put the hems on it. Mr Bastard is obviously the real thing, and I apologise unreservedly for any misunderstanding and offence caused. Yes, the whole jingbang (copyright Sir Jock McCockup of RBS).

Re Tzipi - it was apparently the floating voters of Armageddon West that did for her. Momzers to a man. Seriously, what a fuckup. Kadima won the most seats! So how come she's lost government? Did you hear her magnificent oration: "We were not elected to legitimise an extreme right government and we must be an alternative of hope and go to opposition". Angel. I am having a Tzipi at Nicky Clarke tomorrow. It's all the rage in Hendon.

And do put Scarlet down. You told me you were watching Masterchef and that the Kim Ayres lookalike won.

scarlet-blue said...

Erm... how exactly has Mrs P described me???????????????!!!!!!
Cheeky buggers.
SXX

Dr Maroon said...

Oh Goad it's the truth Clarissa. The Ayres lookalike went through with a shocking lime torte which was "like eating a pin cushion"

Sorry Scarlet, it was because you mentioned cleavage.
Ax

Dr Maroon said...

http://www.freepressreleases.co.uk/Articles/Opinion_Editorial/BBC_Masterchef_-_Mastercunts_and_Minge_Biscuits._2009020349194/

Sarah said...

capital idea Maroon, consider this my application. :o)

Dr Maroon said...

You don't have to apply. You're an engineer of high standing, so you're in.


Everyone else will have to apply.