John Gibson: Ding dong merrily on Tom, BEM

Tommy Carson. Pic: Ian Georgeson
Tommy Carson. Pic: Ian Georgeson
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Needles and Pins. Ye olde smash hits from the Sixties clicked instantly with the audience at the Scottish Pensioners Christmas lunch in the city centre.

How come? Most of the oldies there have had more then their share of pins and needles in their lifetime.

Including Tommy Carson, the pensioners’ heid bummer, a sharp-as-a-tack bloody marvel in this 92nd year.

Cracking gags, some risqué, and flashing his British Empire Medal, which was pinned on him by the Lord Provost a couple of years back, for sterling service and effrontery.

This could well be his final festive feast, unless he’s blessed again next year with good health, good humour still, a sympathetic Lord Provost and some big-hearted, deep-pocketed organisation who’ll chip in a supportive few quid.

The volunteer entertainers in the City Chambers’ Council Chambers were happy to show off their talent in this room, stalked by the ghost of Calum Kennedy.

The grateful hand-clapping old folk were sent home with a bowl of lentil broth, turkey, sprouts and the good shepherd Tommy among them. I’m dreading 50 myself.

You’ve got to be joking, surely

Mind you, I can’t complain because I pulled a cracker. The joke was: what do you call a frog who works as a spy? A croak and dagger agent. The lady’s party piece was even worse: what is the last ghost called in A Christmas Carol? The ghost of Christmas yet to come. A crap cracker, then.