Damnt masks are driving me skite. Of course they’re vital for battling Covid and I’m well hacked off with folk who shun them. But I can’t seem to find one that’s right for me.
Had he been around today, Noel Coward might have had a new version of his song, Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Worthington.
Christmas is a time for giving, so shop, eat and drink local and give them the chance to keep their heads above water. You can even buy a Christmas tree from them. Just don’t put it up until mid-December.
Are we heading for a happy ending to the Covid-19 story?
As all the clips of people celebrating the dumping of Donald Trump popped up on my timeline, I thought “I’ve seen this before”.
At last, sense has prevailed. After weeks of protests from the beach-loving public, Aberdeen City councillors have U-turned.
It can happen to anyone, often at the worst possible time.
Remember the Aberdeen nine? It’s just become 10.
Up hands if you’re desperate for a roarin’ good laugh to cheer you up?
It's like half a century is just yesterday away.
Dear First Minister. I feel your pain. Those stiletto heels.
Fit next? This pandemic is fair diggin’ in. Plunged into lockdown in March, most of us thought it would all be over by summer – autumn at worst.
It's been a week of Covid firsts. First time at the dentist since October, having missed my six-month check-up and hygienist rake-oot in April.
There may not be a Braemar Gathering tomorrow, but Her Maj seems to have had a superb gatherin’ of her ain folk over the past week.
A minor miracle has happened... I had my first normal weekend since lockdown.
Donald Trump Jr, eyes superglued to the autocue, cracked a joke at the Republican Party convention along the lines that his dad’s opponent in November’s US presidential election – Joe Biden – is like the Loch Ness Monster; he pops his head up every now and again to run for president.
Welcome back Aberdeen… nice to see the Granite City opening up now the local lockdown is easing.
This Friday at 7.25pm a momentous moment occurs... I will enter my 60th year.
Well, at least I’m bang on trend. There’s BoJo urging us overweighters to lose five pounds in a bid to save the NHS a whopping £100 million over the next five years, as he launches his Better Health Campaign.
As lockdown eases it is so satisfying to get back out into the world to show off my toned physique.
How should I put this? Let’s go with Fred Flintstone’s: Ya-ba-da-ba-doo!
Qualified though I am, there will be no application from me to participate in a new BBC TV show which needs bad singers.
You may have noticed I’ve been bangin’ on for a whilie about my holiday to Majorca.
In my TV days I once called Jack Charlton with an invitation to be the subject of a lengthy interview on his career as a Leeds United and England defender.
Cheers! After our long Lockdown, the Neest’s bars and cafes were allowed to start serving us – strictly al fresco and 2m apart – on Monday.
We must assume Kleon Papadimitriou has the backside of a rhino – not in size, of course – but in toughness.
Too be, or not to be... two metres from the gadgie next to you?
I have never fully appreciated the need for pubs, probably because my visits to them have been infrequent; rare, some might say.
No one should be surprised the people of Aberdeen turned out in force when asked to stand up for the Black Lives Matter movement.
Has the coronavirus lockdown muddled the minds of local politicians?