So you think you’ve seen it all. Lived through it all. Done the T-shirts. Is that so? Well, just take it from me. You’ll be shocked and stunned when, finally, you get the trams bill for Shandwick Place.
A bill for Edinburghers of seismic proportions. Richterish. Off the scale. And we’re talking about one thoroughfare alone in the Capital.
It’s a melotrama, the most earth-shattering event here since Arthur’s Seat erupted. Are you receiving me, Lesley “Pie in Sky” Hinds, our transport boss?
When ultimately the Shandwick Place bill arrives you’ll want to skedaddle out of town under cover of darkness.
Effect of fame
Gone a bit, shall we say, funny. Like Doris Day. Long gone a bit reclusive, closeting herself away with her animals. Veteran Shirley MacLaine, pictured, is telling us she’s living the good life with her dog Terry.
Well short of doolally, though. A successful businesswoman, still and she’s ranting: “Fame is a drug of annihilation. Why do so many people want to be famous when they see how it can destroy your life? The price of fame is the isolation of the soul.”
I can but agree, Shirl, having been there. Must say, however, you do seem a bit, shall we say again, odd in your latest snaps in the papers.
Can it be true . .
. . . that Ally McCoist’s job at Rangers is on the line after an unthinkable stuffing by Stirling Albion? . . .that Sandi Toksvig was groped in the Eighties and her production crew just sniggered? . . .that jingling George “Babyface” Osborne fancies himself for the next PM? They nickname him Giddy, by the way. Close to somebody called Gibby, bit of a diddy.