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Impolitic: recasting the Broons and Oor Wullie with Holyrood's stars

It was the 1970s; it was always Baltic. In between power cuts, Colditz and The World at War were on TV. It was always dark too.

I was OK; I had an Adventure Kit and every night I would be in hiding, under the blankets, my flask full of water and a knife in case the Nazis came to Airdrie.

I also had a torch and would read Roy of the Rovers and my annuals The Broons and Our Wullie. I remember my flask leaked and they thought I was a bed-wetter, but that's another story for another time.

This week two Broons annuals and an Oor Wullie annual sold at auction. The Broons first annual from 1941 sold for £6875, as did the first Oor Wullie edition. The Second Broons annual went for £5000.

I bet you're wishing you looked after your copies now.

I was wondering if Scottish political figures could be cast as Glebe Street characters For some fun, here are some ideas…

Paw Broon: Well the gaffer has to be Alex Salmond, if he could grow a tash and develop a comb-over. He keeps a tight ship, likes a fish supper and is very fond of the horses too.

Maw Broon: Has to be Annabel Goldie. Stern, with a heart of goldie. Actually, as it was a modern version of The Broons, I almost went for a controversial casting and went for a man, Stewart Stevenson. You seldom see Maw outside as she's always cooking and cleaning, and we know Stewart never liked the outdoors and the snow and bad weather much.

Hen Broon: John Swinney, right in there, the double of Hen and also has the height to reach all the high ceilings for painting jobs at the But 'n' Ben and change light bulbs.

Daphne Broon: Has to be Fiona Hyslop out double-dating with Maggie and always trying to engineer a way to get the handsome chap.

Maggie Broon: Well normally Nicola Sturgeon's Minnie the Minx, so we'll go with Johann Lamont.

Joe Broon: likes boxing and a ladies' man, so…Bill Walker.

Horace Broon: he's pompous, bookish with a love of reciting poetry...Mike Russell.

The Twins: they're nameless and rambunctious and always playing cowboys and Indians, just like the two Tories we see beside Ruth Davidson all the time (Full of cheek, yet no one knows their names either.)

The Bairn: Ruth herself, prone to mishearing and misunderstanding things and getting it wrong.

Oor Wullie: I can see Wee Willie Rennie sitting on his bucket.

PC Murdoch: that's got to be Kenny MacAskill.

Fat Boab: Michael McMahon, Labour's member for Uddingston and Bellshill.

Soapy Soutar: Iain Gray

On the subject of comedy characters called Broon from a bygone era, Gordon Brown, the face of Better Together, comes to town this Tuesday. He brings his dulcet tones to Glasgow University..haud me back. However, poor Gordy's return to the central politic narrative will be somewhat eclipsed by none other than ex-CIA windbag/superhero/whistleblower/ traitor Edward Snowden.

My mole in the hole, my man on the inside, says Snowden's swearing-in ceremony as rector will be a live link-up from Russia this Wednesday. No one knows yet, apart from you. That's what we used to call, in the old days, a scoop.

I love those big Kelpies. When my breakdown comes, I want it to be cinematic. I'm not shuffling away on the 201 bus with my slippers on.

No way. I'm having a meltdown, a total and unequivocal see-you-all-later hootenanny. I want to go riding the Kelpies in the Grand National to a cover of Crazy Horses by Motorhead. Then I want to dismantle one of them and rebuild it in George Robertson's bed, ala The Godfather horse's head in a bed scene.

I would also like to have a selfie with David Cameron and George Osborne and crack their heads together, shout 'Tweet that ya couple of expletives' and ride off on my big Kelpie.

No matter the vehemence of their fulminations…I'll blame it all on horseplay

On the subject of Fat Dave, nice to hear the jellyfish off the Spanish Island of Lanzarote have good taste. David 'don't call me Fat Dave' Cameron was stung yesterday by a jellyfish. Apparently he was warned just before he went in that the water was full of them yet ignored the advice, only to come running out screaming 'Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!' Even in pain he's a toff twat.

Turns out it was just a minor sting, wait till September 19 if he wants a major sting (ouch!)

The jellyfish, to add insult to injury, was also reddish in colour. The gelatinous blob was said to be shocked, had a rash, itching and was in some pain. The jellyfish on the other hand required hospital treatment.

We all know the best cure for a jellyfish sting is to be urinated on; if he wants I can fly over and do it right now (that's a myth only used for the mental image and comedic purposes; sea-water or vinegar if it happens to you). Next time let's make it a shark.

And in news from nowhere…

Commonwealth stamps revealed; organisers disappointed, they wanted self detonated exploding stamps.

Pixar, creator of Brave, denies being out of touch wants independence; thinks Brigadoon can go it alone.

Putin tells Snowden Russia doesn't carry out surveillance they don't need to, they own the internet.

Lord Digby Jones: 'I'm crap with business, numbers and shit and my real name's Nigel'.

Sir Alex Ferguson auctions off prized scud-book collection.

Happy Easter.

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