Do you dig it? We’re told (make that commanded) by the city council to clear the snow ourselves this winter, so they’re going to distribute shovels to residents.
Now I call a spade a spade and there’s no denying I’ve been shovelling stuff into this column for yonks. But shovelling the white stuff ... well, best I leave that to the able-bodied.
I reckon I’ve done my share. I kept Leith Walk free for traffic when we had nightmariish snowfalls. A legacy is that friends say my handwriting resembles a dog’s pee in the snow. An apt description, I have to say.
Now get out there and dig it, you hard men, while a digger in his dotage sits back and looks on.
Should he be behind bars? Police (in Glasgow, where else?) have been appealing for information on the whereabouts of a man who went missing last Friday night dressed as a gorilla. Last I heard they’d gone ape searching for him.
He has a tattoo on his left forearm that says “Craig”. Last seen on all fours in Eglinton Street. I’ve been asked if I can provide any info at all in this case but I’m cagey about that.
Afterwords . .
. . . Can’t they leave Woody Allen alone? He’s an old man, for gawd’s sake! I love Woody and his sports jackets and it grieves me somewhat to learn he’s being sued by William Faulkner’s estate for infringing the legendary writer’s copyright. Woody, I’m with you.