What drama. Live on telly. William Shakespeare couldn’t have written it better. In fact, Oor Willie was responsible for the whole, amazing scenario and put himsellie at the centre of it.
Was it a comedy or a tragedy? Tears for Piers. On Tuesday’s Good Morning Britain, Health Secretary Matt Hancock wept in front of one of his long-time adversaries, Piers Morgan. All this grim Covid year we’ve thought he was a tough cookie, battling off the slings and arrows of outrageous criticism. Suddenly, a jab in an 81-year-old’s arm, and he’s lost it.
Boris (or was it dastardly Dominic?) had banned government ministers from appearing on GMB for months, as Morgan relentlessly savaged them for botching the pandemic crisis, especially the inexperienced laddie at the centre of it – young Matt. However, on Tuesday – with the ban now lifted – and the first vaccines being administered, he came on live to burble about being proud to be British (Scyooze me? I thought the vaccine was an international effort.)
But fit’s afoot? Watching film of the Bard’s namesake, Will from Warwickshire – the peer Cabinet loon appeared to greet; heidie doon, dichtin’ his een, voice breakin’. Ye Gods, me too! And what a place to whimper – on top-rated breakfast telly. Even Piers seemed briefly lost for words. To weep or not to weep, that is the question. Is Hancock a heart-on-his-sleeve hero? Or a brilliantly acted Shakespearian villain?
It was certainly an emotional start to a historic day as the first needles went in. Now it’s all up to the system to decide where and when the vaccine will be administered. As I said last week, I’ve friends who wouldn’t go near it with a barge-pole, worried the testing is rushed and incomplete, while others are desperate to be protected from the virus. This week I’ve heard of two friends who’ve had friends testing positive. It’s getting too close for comfort. I’ll take my chance and trust in the science – the sooner the better.
Meanwhile, here’s an appeal to ancient EE readers with long memories. In the 50s, a groundbreaking vaccine was discovered to beat the paralysing condition polio. There had already been someone in my class at Culter confined to what they called – and horrendous it sounds even now – an iron lung. However, in the middle of the decade came the anti-polio vaccine. I have a memory of going down with my mum to the Castlegate one evening and joining a huge line of parents and children outside the Athenaeum Hotel. Ages to wait. Think we snaked, slowly, up the stairs to somewhere we got the jag. Was it my imagination? Or anyone else remember being in that long, life-saving queue?
Time for Royals to blow away cobwebs
Not sure where I stand on the belly-rumbling that’s afoot about Nicola Sturgeon’s Scottish “welcome” to Wills and Katie’s whirlwind UK tour ie: “Hey min, yer brakkin’ the Covid laws.”
And so indeed they were, unless you class the trip as “work” – about which, I suspect, you really can’t argue. Although who wouldn’t love “work” like that?
But what really gets my goat about the Royal Family in Scotland is all the risible rules and rituals. For example, the Buck House instruction to newspapers; when they’re north of the border, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (ie W and K) should be referred to as the Count and Countess of Strathearn. Fit? Far’s ‘at?
Ditto the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall (Chazzer and Millie) should be known in Scotland as the Duke and Duchess of Rothesay. Since when did they ever ging doon the watter on a Clyde ferry? Meanwhile, even though every man he meets and greets up here wears breeks, Chazzer insists on the dress code: If it’s Scotland, it’s the kilt. He’s never been that comfortable in his skin but surely the plaid skirt disnae help.
Dear Yer Maj, I’ve become more sympathetic to the Windsors as I’ve grown older. I think you’re an absolute topper for your age, ongoing travails and responsibilities. But help us a bit here and try to redd-oot some of your glaikit traditions.
No festive bells for amazon gadgies
All at the last minute, I’ve been gobbling up prezzies on Amazon.
You’d think, after so many months of lockdown, I’d be right on the jobbie. Dream on.
Probably less organised than I ever was. Jist nae in the mood. Suddenly, last week, I panicked and ra-ta-tatted out orders. In my enthusiasm, sadly I didn’t clock delivery dates.
Deep joy, many arriving after January 6. Meanwhile, for those on time, I face the biggest battle of all – getting the delivery gadgies to ring my bell, instead of a wee tap on the door and offski.