one month passes...
six months pass...
An occasion like this calls for schnapps Boaby.
The unlikely trio of Bobby Gillespie, Alan McGee and Stuart Murdoch have been invited to be part of a discussion on Scottish music and the Scottish cultural scene at an American university. Boab and Al are backstage.
BOAB: Here, ah'm no' exactly thrilled aboot huvvin' tae share a stage wi' this wee West End fanny, Murdoch. Ah mean, ah've hud Tap 10 singles, whit's that wee cunt and his merry band o' bedwetters ever fuckin' achieved?
AL: You'd be surprised at how popular they are, Bob... oh quiet, here he is...
BOAB (full of bonhomie): Holl' Stewpot! It's yourself! Long time no see!
STUART (nodding): Bobby, Alan. Looking forward to tonight, I must admit.
BOAB: You an' me baith, wee man, you an' me baith.
After the onstage introductions are over and the Q&A session begins, Boab is dismayed to find the audience is more interested in Stuart Murdoch and even Alan McGee than him. Then …
MODERATOR: Can we get the mike over to this lady over there... yes... thanks...
AUDIENCE MEMBER: Thank you, I'd like to put a question to Bobby Gillespie...
BOAB (straightening up): ... oh right, here we fuckin' go, aboot time...
AUDIENCE MEMBER: ... you know, I think this year has been very traumatic for all of us, what with the pandemic, the Black Lives Matter movement...
BOAB (clenching fist): ... right oan sister...
AUDIENCE MEMBER: ... and the ongoing nightmare of the Trump presidency, and I know that people all over the world are concentrated fully on the American presidential elections even more than usual...
BOAB (to himself): Mibbes aye, mibbes naw.
AUDIENCE MEMBER: ... and I'm sure you people in England were as devastated by the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg as we were... (*murmurs from the audience*)
BOAB (an aside to Al): Who?
AUDIENCE MEMBER: ... so in this year of all years, do you regret using an image of the Confederate flag on the cover of your album, “Give Out But Don’t Give Up”?
Scattered applause.
BOAB (sotto voce): Goat there eventually.
MODERATOR: Great question, over to you, Bobby.
BOAB (*steepling fingers*) (in measured fashion): Well it's aw aboot context and, at the risk o' appearin' patronisin', what you don't understand, doll, is that the image oan the cover is actually a famous photie - nuhin' tae dae wi’ us, darlin’. It's a famous photie taken by Christopher Eccleston... noo, I must admit, I had nae idea he was a photographer as well as huvvin' played Doctor Who... no' that am a fan o' Doctor Who, no' even when that cunt ...
Audible gasps from some members of the audience. Bobby continues his peroration.
BOAB: ... fae Paisley, Tennant played him, an' the thing is they gave him a London accent, they widnae even let him dae a Scottish accent, at least when fuckin' Capaldi played him they let him keep his accent. But when Capaldi wis playin' him ye kept expecting the cunt tae start fuckin' swearin' a dime a dozen like he did oan The Thick Of It... don't get me wrang, that wis fuckin' great that show, but nae cunt swears as much as that in real life! It's jist no fuckin' realistic! But ye know whit the best bit wis in the film? The bit at the end when him and fuckin' Tony Soprano are gaun toe tae toe and fuckin' Soprano is like, "You limey English bastard", or whitever, and Capaldi jist sterrs him right in the eyeba’ and is like "Fuck you, Tony... and don't ever call me English", and he fuckin' jist strolls away and big Tony's left staunin' there like, "Whit the fuck's that daft cunt oan aboot?" So, in closing, that is... er... I put it to you that that is my reply to you... to your question.
AUDIENCE MEMBER (to 2nd AUDIENCE MEMBER): Wow, I think we could do with some subtitles here.
MODERATOR: Um, thank you, uh, thank you, Bobby, I think...
Someone comes onstage to whisper something in the Moderator's ear.
MODERATOR: Before we go any further, I have a small request for you, Bobby.
BOAB: Aye, nae bother, big yin, fire away, happy tae oblige.
MODERATOR: I think some of the audience were a little discomforted by your occasional use of the C word in your reply.
BOAB (outraged): The C word? But ah never mentioned cancer wance! Whit ye oan aboot, ya clown!
MODERATOR (slowly): That's not the C word I meant. (*gritted teeth*) I meant the C word with four letters.
BOAB (looking puzzled): Crab?
Al whispers in Boab's ear.
BOAB: Ah... right... eh... well, that's gonny cramp ma fuckin' style a wee bit so it is...
Boab sinks back in his chair, sulkily.
BOAB (sotto voce to Al): Whit the fuck's the problem wi' these middle class fuckin' bookclub wankers?
AL: When in Rome, Bob, when in Rome.
BOAB (uncomprehendingly): ... er... aye, Al, aye, right ye ur (*pulls a face*).
An increasingly unhappy Boab slumps in his chair as a succession of audience members ignore him and Al to enthusiastically interrogate Stuart. Laughter breaks out as the moderator tells an anecdote about trying to buy Belle & Sebastian's 29th album at his local record shop, sorry, store.
BOAB (to Al): Well, that fuckin' story was as fuckin' funny as cancer...
AL: ...careful, the C word...
BOAB: Ah jist don't huv the same sense o' humour as these cunts, they're laughin' away at aw sorts o' shite but when ah try an' crack a funny they look at me like ah've goat two heids.
AL: You don't say.
BOAB: Ah've goat tae admit, Al, ah've goat nae fuckin' idea whit these cunts are talkin' aboot hauf the time.
AL: I think the feelin' is mutual, Bob.
BOAB: Aye, well at least ah make the effort, Al, no' like these arrogant arseholes who jist fuckin' expect everybody else to know whit the fuck they're oan aboot an' make nae effort tae try an' unnerstaun' embdy else. They’re fuckin’ worse than the English!
AL: Aye, Boab, you certainly make the effort!
Stuart begins a long answer on his film, "God Help the Girl".
BOAB (to Al): Here, whit's this aboot a film?
AL: He directed a film.
BOAB: Whit, that wee rat? Whit's it aboot?
AL: Glasgow, supposedly.
BOAB (suddenly interested): Glesga?
Boab decides to listen in to another question on the film.
AUDIENCE MEMBER: Uh, I just wanna, um, bring up one of the, uh, criticisms levelled at your movie in certain quarters...
STUART (sitting forward in his seat): Mmm-hmm?
AUDIENCE MEMBER: ... uh-huh... the criticism was that there was a lack of diversity in your portrayal of Glaz-gow, specifically a lack of African-American characters and faces and, um.... how do you answer that, um, criticism?
STUART (squirming slightly): Well, I think that's a... (*clears throat*)... a good question... em... I mean, Glasgow isn't as ethnically diverse as most American cities...
BOAB: Bollocks.
MODERATOR: Pardon me?
BOAB: There's loats o' Asians in Glesga fur a stert.
MODERATOR: Really? I had no idea, do you have... like a Chinatown?
BOAB: Ye whit?
AL (to the moderator): He means South Asians.
BOAB: Aye, well a loat o’ them dae live in Pollokshields and Govanhill but ye dae get some north o' the river an' aw.
AL: Glasgow might not be that ethnically diverse, but it has got one significant group that seemed to be absent from your film, Stuart, if I may say so.
STUART: Oh, really? Who?
AL: Glaswegians.
Stuart looks daggers. Boab blunders on.
BOAB: Here, if ye wahnt tae know aboot Glesga, ah'll tell ye a wee fuckin' story that sums up Glesga fur me. (*elbowing Stuart in the ribs*) Here, ye coulda done wi' this wan in yer blockbuster movie, Stewpot...
Stuart visibly tenses.
BOAB: ... an' it's a fuckin' true story tae, by the way. So, this wee fuckin' ned is up in court on some charge or other an' he's gettin' cross-examined oan his alibi. The advocate asks him if, as he claims, he was at a friend's house oan the night o' the crime then why did he go there? "Tae get a tap", says the ned. "Is your friend a plumber?" says the advocate. "Naw", says the ned. "Are you a plumber?" says the judge. "Naw", says the ned. And...
AL (to the audience): ... a tap is a faucet, by the way...
BOAB (hesitatingly): ... aye, thanks Al... anyway, the judge says to the advocate, "I fail to see where this line of questioning on plumbing is leading". The advocate is like, "Ah, I think there's been a misunderstanding, m'lud, I believe 'tap' has secondary meaning in Glaswegian parlance, of a fiscal nature". Then, to the ned, "So you went to the house to borrow money?" "Naw", says the ned. "You went to the house to lend money?", says the judge. "Naw", says the ned. The judge, who is getting fed up wi' aw this, then says to the ned, "You have told the court you went to your friend's house for a tap. Now what kind of a tap was it?" The ned replies, "A Cellic tap."
The end of the story is met with deafening silence, a few stray coughs aside.
AUDIENCE MEMBER (raising hand): Um, excuse me, sir, I heard you mention, I wanna say, Tom Selleck?
BOAB: Naw, Cellic! A Cellic tap!
AL: He means Celtic.
MODERATOR: The Boston Celtics?
BOAB (exasperated): Naw! Cellic Fitba Club!
AL: The football club.
MODERATOR: But the Celtics play basketball not football.
STUART: No, soccer.
BOAB: Cellic Fitba Club! The Glasga Celtic! The Tim Malloys!
MODERATOR: Is the story finished yet?
BOAB: Aye, it's fuckin' feenished! An' you know who else is fuckin' feenished? Me! Ah've fuckin' had it wi' this fuckin' Punch and Judy show! See you (*points at the moderator*), you couldnae run a menodge. Hauf o' you’s (*points at audience*) cannae unnerstaun' the fuckin' Queen's English and the other hauf ur so faur up yer ain erses ye don't know if it's fuckin' night or day ... ya toffee...
AL: ... taffy...
BOAB: ... shut it, Al... ya toffee-nosed cunts. That's right, cunts! Ah said cunts! This place is jist no' fur the likes o' me, a straight talkin' working class guy fae the violent mean streets o' Glesga...
STUART: ... you're from Mount Florida, Bobby...
BOAB: ... an' you're fae Clarkston, ya wank...
AUDIENCE MEMBER (to 2nd AUDIENCE MEMBER): Did he say he was from Florida?
AL: Calm doon, Bob.
BOAB: Naw, ah'll calm doon fuck aw', Al, ah'm fuckin' done. Ah'm offski. Joe the Toff. Ah'm shootin' the craw. (*rising from his seat*) Get tae fuck the lot o' ye's! (*mumbling*) Belle and fuckin' Sebastian...
Boab storms, after a fashion, from the stage. Some boos ring out.
MODERATOR: Um, it appears Mr Gillespie has decided to, um, bring his particular evening to a close.
BOAB (pushing through the audience, turns to shout at the stage): Here you, ah'll bring you tae a close, ya fuckin' ride!
At length, as the discussion carries on without him, Boab finds himself at the back of the auditorium ineptly struggling with some fire doors.
BOAB (to a young woman standing nearby): Here, hen, how d'ye get oot o' this fuckin' place?
― Young Boys of Bernie (Tom D.), Tuesday, 27 October 2020 00:48 (three years ago) link
three months pass...
https://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/politics/primal-scream-star-bobby-gillespie-23420856
Boab has called a band meeting on Zoom.
Boab (cheerily): "Afternoon, troops!"
Andrew Innes (wearily): "It's 10 o'clock at night, Boab."
Boab: "Away wi' ye! Is it? *stares myopically at the corner of his screen* Here... so it is! Ma fuckin' body cloack is aw' tae pot wi' this fuckin' lockdoon shite!"
Andrew: "That clock stopped years ago."
Martin Duffy: "He needs winding up."
Andrew: "And I'm just the boy to do it."
Boab: "Here, less o' th' lip. Wherr's the other two? *unsure* Therr is two mair o' them, int' therr?
Andrew: "Aye, we're a five piece these days."
Boab: "Aye, ah knew that, ah knew that, ah'm oan toap o' 'hings, Andra, nae fuckin' flies oan me, mate. So wherr is... eh... don't tell me... don't tell me.... Robert?"
Andrew: "He's deid, Boab."
Boab: "Aye right enough, so he is, fuckin' Covid. Anyway, disnae really matter, the other two are fuckin' English, it disnae concern them..."
Martin: "I'm English, Bobby."
Boab: "Ur ye? Who ur you again?"
Martin: "Martin Duffy? Keyboards? I've been in the band for 30 years?"
Boab: "'zat a fact? (to Andrew) Here, whit's wi' aw these English cunts in the band, Andra? It's like we're no' even a Scottish band anymair!"
Andrew: "Well, we're not, you and me are the only Scottish members of the band and we've been based in England since the 1980s."
Boab (curtly): "Beside the point, Andra, beside the point."
Andrew: "And what exactly is the point, Boab?"
Martin: "Yeah, why have you called this band meeting, Bobby?"
Boab (ignoring Martin): "Ah've decided, we're in favour o' independence."
Andrew: "Who is?"
Boab: "We ur."
Martin: "Who's we?"
Boab: "Us."
Andrew: "Independence from who?"
Boab: "The fuckin' UK."
Martin: "Who, the band?"
Boab: "Aye, the band."
Andrew: "UK?"
Boab: "Aye, UK!"
Andrew "You mean, UK, the British progressive rock supergroup originally active from 1977 until 1980, composed of singer/bassist John Wetton (formerly of King Crimson, Roxy Music, Bryan Ferry's band and Uriah Heep), keyboardist/electric violinist Eddie Jobson (formerly of Curved Air, Roxy Music and Frank Zappa's band), guitarist Allan Holdsworth (formerly of Tempest, Soft Machine, The New Tony Williams Lifetime and Gong) and drummer Bill Bruford (formerly a full member of Yes and King Crimson, and also a tour drummer for Genesis), who was later replaced by drummer Terry Bozzio (formerly of Frank Zappa's band)?"
Boab: "Here you Innes, ya cheeky article, ah mean, oor band! The fuckin' Scream!"
Martin: "Primal Scream are independent of er ... sorry you've lost me, Bobby."
Boab: "Gie me fuckin' strength. Primal Scream, the band, oor band, is in favour o' independence fae the UK."
*silence*
Boab: "... fuckin' Scottish independence fae the UK! For fuck sake!"
Andrew: "We are?"
Boab: "Aye."
Martin: "Who is?"
Boab: "Here, let's no' stert that shite again! It's a fuckin' done deal, ah'm fuckin' announcin' it oan the fuckin' twitter the morra."
Andrew: "So why call this meeting?"
Boab (patronisingly): "Because we're a fuckin' democracy in this band, Andra, no' a fuckin' dictatorship, aw' voices must be listened tae..."
Martin: "... well, in that case I'd like to..."
Boab: "... never let it be said that ah'm no' open tae hearing the views and opinions of other, lesser, members o' the band..."
Martin: "... if I could just make a..."
Boab: "... because ma international socialist / class politics background has left me wi' an unshakeable fuckin' commitment tae fuckin' democracy in a' its forms an' if ye fuckin' dare suggest otherwise ye're oot the fuckin' band, capiche?"
Martin: "Oh, I fucking give up."
Andrew: "So what about the 'people in Liverpool who have been hammered', and in Manchester and in Southampton?"
Boab: "Listen, Andra, ah've no' goat time tae worry aboot the plight o' a bunch o' fuckin' bevvy merchants in fuckin' Manchester or wherever - when ah get hammered ah take the consequences. If ye cannae haud yer drink ye shouldnae be fuckin' oot boozin' in the first place!"
Andrew: (heavy sigh) "I thought 'Nationalism has never done it for me. It leads to fascism.' Quote."
Boab (indignant): "Now, haud oan a minute, ca'in' me a Nazi, that's bang oot 'o order, mate! Just to be clear. I am not a nationalist. I come from an international socialist / class politics background....
Andrew: "... aye, you told us."
Martin: "Can I just make an interjection at this point..."
Boab (sharply): "Naw, ye fuckin' cannae! Be fuckin' grateful ye're still in the band efter whit your lot did at Culloden and don't think ah've forgoatten 1975 either! Fuckin' Gerry fuckin' Francis! Ye might ah beat us five-wan but yer team wis fuckin' shite then and it's shite noo...an' who picks fuckin' Stewart fuckin' Kennedy in fuckin' goal instead o' David Harvey??!! But we goat oor fuckin' revenge two years later, did we no'? King Kenny stickin' the ba' through fuckin' Ray Clemence's fuckin' legs! And then fuckin' wreckin' the fuckin' goalposts at Wembley efterwards! Helloooo! Get it fuckin' up ye ya fuckin' English bastards! *sings* "... And stood against him/ Proud Edward's army/ And sent him homeward *emphatically* TAE THINK AGAIN!!!!!!""
Andrew: "Right, I think the meeting is officially over."
Martin: "Yes, see you later, Andy".
Martin signs off.
Boab: "... here Andra, afore ye go. Ye'll be sure an' let Robert know aboot this meetin'? Ah'm sorry he missed it, like."
Andrew (resigned): "Aye, Boab, later".
Boab (cheerful again): "Aye, see ye, wee man!
Andrew signs off.
Boab: *distractedly singing to himself* "There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier/ who wandered far away/ and soldiered far away...."
― Waterloo Subset (Tom D.), Monday, 1 February 2021 18:19 (three years ago) link
three weeks pass...
one month passes...