I have had no whisky for the last few days, partly to prove to myself that I still can, but mostly because I’ve had to get up and be coherent earlier than usual. Tonight I’m not drinking, I only have red wine. A not very good one. Not terrible, but I won’t buy it again.
Today I drove a Ford Ka. A horrible experience, but at least I was definitely under the drinking limit and not at all hungover. Hence the no-whisky nights. The seat is so low you’re afraid you’ll scrape your arse on the road and it feels like driving a go-kart with a jelly mould on top. There is no room for all the junk that would inevitably accumulate either. It is not the car for me. I wish they still made the wedge-shaped Austin Princess. I had one of those many years ago. The junk clearouts were only required about once a year… and were less frequent in reality.
The most fun was the ex-Water Board Commer van. Massive junk space. Necessary at the time since I had to move large lab equipment between Scotland and Wales. Its front wheels were behind the driving seat so you had to go past a corner before starting to turn. Took some practice – and again when I sold it and moved up (down?) to the Princess. The best part of the Commer was that the engine was under the middle seat. I took that seat out so I could check on the engine while driving. Came in handy when the accelerator jammed and I had to work the carburettor by hand. Driving isn’t anywhere near as fun as it used to be.
Neither are pubs. In the north of Scotland, having to go outside to smoke is, for most of the year, even more unpleasant than driving a Ka. Local byelaws mean you can’t take your drink outside so the combination of a drink and a smoke is irrevocably severed. Except in pubs with beer-gardens (it’s okay to drink outside as long as you are on pub property) but with local weather, even that is a limited option.
When the Cleggeron Coagulation came to power, they promised a Great Repeal Bill to get the silly Labour laws off the books. The Deputy Prime Monster, Little Nicky Clegg, equated ‘considering amending the smoking ban’ with ‘bringing back hanging’ and declared it would never happen. It never has. Under any of the three nannying parties (four in Scotland) it never will.
Oddly enough, the Great Repeal Bill that was to rid us of the Blur and the Gorgon’s plethora of petty laws never happened either. Neither did the ‘Bonfire of the Quangos’. In fact, exactly the opposite happened. They wonder why nobody likes them.
Little Clegg is expecting an easy win in his constituency at the next round of ‘choose-the-idiot’ in May. It seems he might be disappointed and have to get a real job instead. The Secret Ninja Cleaners have a vacancy here but I won’t work with that useless bugger. I’d give it two days before he has an accident involving the bread slicer, miraculously timed for when the CCTV is looking the other way.
Deputy Clegg insists that the poll is nonsense and that he is certain to win his seat again. I suspect he might not be the only one turning whiter than one of Deputy Dawg’s ghosts when the results are called. Like, uh, boo, ya dig, daddio?
Labour are likely to take his seat so there’ll be no real improvement at all but I’d definitely get in a bottle of the good stuff and celebrate anyway.
What I’d like to see is Cameron lose to UKIP. Not for political reasons really, it would just be so bloody funny.
As for Moribund, his days are numbered too. Even his own party hates him now.
I’ll have to be sure to stay up late for the next election results and have plenty of whisky on hand.
It’s likely to be funnier than a Morecambe and Wise Christmas Special.