Bet Andy Murray would be the life and soul of your Hogmanay party. That was just a wee tantrum in China when he lost the Shanghai Open final. His face was as long as Leith Walk, his voice doom and gloom. Boorish in the extreme.
His American therapist is saying of him he’s ‘‘funny and delightful’’. His former coach Brad Gilbert rates him ‘‘one of the most negative people I’ve ever met’’.
Who to believe, her or him? Most of us are left to judge Andy by his screen demeanour and no, he’s the last reveller you’d want at your party.
Somebody else who’d turn milk sour just by looking at it. Former News International chief exec Rebekah Brooks. For simply walking away she reportedly was able to stuff a £7 million goodbye down her pants.
Smile Becky, for God’s sake smile.
Everybody knows your taste in food is, shall we say, bizarre but, please, Clarrie, don’t have us throwing up. Clarissa Dickson Wright is broadcasting: “I’ve cooked with whale vomit.”
We don’t wish to know that, my dear. And don’t tempt me to revive the classic Vera Lynn hit, Whale Meat Again.
What ails Gaels
Gaels’ wails. Nary a withering word can be penned about them than they’re sobbing uncontrollably. Doubtless I’ll be incurring their wrath again by trumpeting that a £4 million flagship primary school built in Inverness can’t find a headteacher able to speak the language.
No native speaker had pounced on the £48,000 post, advertised now for three years, last I heard. Traumatic times for the teuchters.