Dark hoarse
Some excitement in Glasgow about a forthcoming concert at the ABC by heavy metal chanteuse Myrkur. The bonny Danish warbler’s more folky direction, combined with her controversial female gender, has led to threats from fanatical death metallers. But, with her wide vocal range, Myrkur can growl as hoarsely as any Stan-worshipping metallist. Not Stan. Satan. Sorry, wee typo there. Myrkur, incidentally, is Icelandic for darkness, which reminds reader Greg Noble of the old joke: “How many death-metallers does it take to change a light bulb? None. They embrace the darkness.”
Give it up
Lent news, and the Winter Olympics have inspired our man John Mulholland who declares: “I’m giving up ice skating until Easter. I’m aff the rink fur Lent.”
Lot of bottle
Our tale about posh boys quaffing gargantuan amounts of booze prompts Derek Miller to recall exuberantly scoffing 20-year-port at a business lunch in Glasgow. His wife was furious next morning when, horribly hungover, he missed their young son’s nativity performance. Many months later, he took her to the same restaurant. Waiter: “I recognise your face, sir: you were the port man at Christmas!” Derek (sheepishly): “Yes, I had rather a lot, maybe even a full bottle.” Waiter: “It was a litre and a half, sir. We kept the receipt as a souvenir!” Quips our toper: “Just shows you don’t have to be a Bullingdon boy to enjoy life’s finer things.”
Zeal of approval
More audience reactions: Brian Wadham recalls watching horror pic The Mist at a cinema in Dublin. The scene: folk trapped in a supermarket by monsters from another dimension. To appease the beasties, an irritating zealot exhorts her followers to sacrifice a lady with a shady past, whereupon a mild-mannered sales assistant reaches for his gun – and shoots the zealot dead. Reports Brian: “The entire cinema rose and gave him a standing ovation.” Clearly, in Dublin, there’s no zeal for zealots.
Well meant
Reader Norrie Christie received a grateful email from a colleague: “Thanks for explaining the definition of ‘many’. It means a lot to me.”
Belle with Bell’s
Inebriated ladies at gigs part two: John McNeill recalls a Tony Bennett concert at the Kelvin Hall, where the audience was enthralled by the legendary singer’s famous sophistication and elegance. Says John: “This was especially true of the Glasgow matron who made her way to the front carrying an open bottle of Bell’s and proceeded to offer the great man a swig, mouthing endearments as she did so.” Our man recalls the singer smiling politely but can’t remember if he accepted the proffered "swallie".
Bin there
More Willie McCulloch, recalled by David Miller of Milngavie: Old Mrs Near-the-Bone is out at her bins at Christmas when the binman approaches with his hand held out. "I'm the man that empties your bins,” says he.
"Aye", says she, turning away, "and I'm the wife that fills them!"
That’s al, folks
After a wisely unnamed Glasgow reader’s definition of eating outside a supermarket as al Tesco, and a Paisley correspondent’s suggestion of al desco for eating in the office, our man in Kilbirnie suggests that, if the sandwich was dropped on the floor, that would be al mesco. Please, all of you: seek el helpo.
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