Thursday, 30 July 2009
We're meant til be a histry site, expoundin' oan the true Ulster Scotsness o' the folk o' this island, but aff late wiv gat distracted. Ah hiv nae excuses excep' tae say thit ah've reached a bit o' an histerical crisis point in histry. The arrival o' Christianity in Ireland raises manies a question, nat laist o' which is whit branch o' Christianity did the boys o' the 5th century practice?
Wis it Anglican, Methodist, Presbyterian oor, indaid, Free Presbyterian? Oor Baptist maybe, oor Elim Pentecostal? Oor Muslim?
Yin things fur sure, it wisnae the o'er sort. (As will be sain later - in Bit sumthin' - when the Inglis brung the O'er sort til Ulster under the orders o' a Papal Bull)
In oor St Patrick's Day specil, a lock o' weeks ago, the Rev Dr Dougie Muldrew claimed thit Christianity wis brung til Ireland by St Wullie McDowell. In daein sae he cunningly circumvented the histerical debate as tae whether it wis the Briton, St Patrick, oor the Papal envoy, Paladius, wha brung the Laird's wurd till oor shores. Howiver the Rev Dr didnae gae intae much detail, in fak he said bugger awl o' oany consequence, an nae matter how much ah quizzed him he wid oany say "Thar is mair goin' doon oan Heeven an' Earth thain ye cud stick a cannle til".
Thus when ah came til research the arrival o' Christianity in Ireland ah hid tae mak the lang run, through a stormy aivnin', til Poytnzpass Presbyterian Preachin' an' Pole Dancin Polytecknic fur til interview him further. Whin ah gat thar, ah foun' the place deathly quiet. "Whar are the trainee preachers" ah thunk, as ah gazed at the empty pulpits. Gittin' mair wurried ah started til panic "Whar are the gyratin Presbyterian ladies?" Awl the poles were empy.
Startled, an' admittedly a bit sexually frustrated, ah made ma way til the Rev Dr's Office. He was deid, shat by a single arrow through the heid. Writ oan his dog coller wis yin wurd - Opus Dei. (Ye didnae see thit cummin.)
"Nawwww" ah shouted, "Nat ye Dougie! Nat the mawn who hid the oany proof thit Christianity wis brung til Ireland by Mary Magdellan's son St Wullie McDowell Jr! Ye boy ye!" Flummoxed, ah tuk a step back, oany then seein' thit, in his dyin' moment, the Rev Dr hid contorted his body intae the shape "V M". Whit cud this main?
(Ah hiv nae idea how he micht hiv achieved this, or indied whar this train o' thocht is gaein' but it micht become clear at a later date, if ah iver fally this through.)
Gary an' Danielle's Antiques Roadshow Northern Exposure thing.
Is oan tamarra nicht at 7.30.
Watch it. Then niver pay yer lisence agin.
Monday, 27 July 2009
Nixt time, ah will dae histry, ah pramise......
Friday, 24 July 2009
This is officially the maist condescendin', irritatin', turn o'er tae RTE inducin' progrmamme o' awl time. Ivry yin in the wurld shud e-screed intae the BBC wi' yin wurd... "English folk, gae bak an' feed crisps tae yer real wife ye jug eared poncy arse! Dinnae come here an' luk as smug as thy'on in a barraed sports car. Ye arse. Whit aboot Healy? Eh? Yin - Naw, Yin - Naw."
Ah'm awa tae fur til raise a people's army an' smash the state.
Ah hiv bin drinkin', but it's a truly brock show.
Thursday, 23 July 2009
The boffins o’er at the Larne Skool o’ Economics hiv bin conductin’ mair research, published fur the yinst time taeday. By coincidence they wur o’er in Scotland at the same time as messel, but hiv used thar statistical skills tae make a much mair in depth study o’ the fowk o’ Glasgow an’ Belfast than ah cud iver hiv managed. Until noo, ah hid thunk thit the main similarities betwain the twa populaces
The full findins kin be foun’ o’er at the Ulster Akademic an’ Research Executive.
Mainwile the McWilliamses are preparin’ tae git a new auld motor, yin which will allow hersel tae terrify even the hardiest motorist. Ah will report nixt week.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
- They hiv crap crisps in Scotland.
- Ye cannae buy Club Orange.
- Glasgow is a very large place wi' scary folk in it.
- They hiv flat sausages. This is a grate idea, fur its far easier tae make a sandwich an' ye kin put eggs oan tap.
That's it. Ah taul ye ah wis deflated. Ah'll try tae come up wi somethin' mair interestin' nixt time.
Ah knew ah wis oan ma way hame whin ah overheared an excellent conversation at the bar oan the boat. A large mawn at the bar, wi a bit o' Strabane aboot him, wis hivin' trubble orderin' his roond frae the Polish bar hen. "A Jameson an' white" says he, "And Wine?" says she, "Naw white" says oor man. "Sprite?" says the girl. "Naw love, white!" "Wine??". "Howl oan, Eugene whit dae ye want wi yer Jameson?" Eugene approaches the bar, examines the mixer fridge an' says' "White". "White wine?" says the Polish gurl. "Naw," says Eugene, that yin thar - Seven Up." "Sprite?" says the barmaid. "Aye" says Eugene.
The thing that gits me is that ah cannae remember the last time ah saw broon in a pub.
Howiver it gives us this weeks pole - best mixer. Frae last week's we kin see that the best bawnd o' awl wud prabably be a rubber pipe.
Saturday, 18 July 2009
Mair til the point hersel described the fake tannin' process til me, an' ah reckon ah've hit oan a new joab. Thar are twa ways o' doin' it.
Yin. Sum girl sprays ye frae heid til toe oot o' a fake tan gun. Ah've sprayed weeds, fences, cattle an' sheep, an' reckon ah cud be the mawn fur that. Apparently the weemen are near as guid as nakd when it's gittin' dun. Jaipers.
Twa. Ye dinnae jist spray them, ye rub it oan. In the name o' the Laird, whit kindae joab is thy'on? Ah kin rub wi' the best o' them (this is his wife speaking. I just came in to ask him to make me an espresso and found him licking his lips. I'm quite sure that all of the above is illegal. p.s i've never written on this site before and i don't intend to again. Thanks, H.)
Ignore thy'on interjection, I dinnae even knaw whit an' 'espressio' is, unless its sum kindae fancy tae.
Back tae fake tan. Sae ah've wurked oot thit the best joab in the wurld is dain' the fake tan fur weemin. Ma previous best joab wis bein' the bra measurin' up person in Marks an' Sparks, but it saims wi' the fake tannin' industry ye git "hawns oan" sae tae spake. Howiver ah am nathin' if nat a realist. If ah git doon tae "Ballyclare Brown Babes" they arnae goantae giv me a joab, fur ah'm a mawn. But, an' its a big but, if ah git messel tae the tech' fur a coorse, they kin hardly turn me doon. Ah'll git tae practise rubbin' stuff in, an' micht even git a City an' Guilds oot o' it. Jaipers wudn't it be guid if Iris Robinson turned up tae help oot the students...........
Yince ah git ma diploma an' open 'Orange fur Ulster' ah will introduce a new chargin' policy. Due tae the fak that Mrs McWilliams is richt an' wee, she barely uses up haff a tube o' the tannin' stuff, an yit she pays the same as a fat lass. Thar is manies a big brown lukkin' hen oot thar, an ah reckon ye shud pay by the poun'. Nat that ah'd be the mawn rubbin' it in, ah wud employ an underling fur the big gurls, an' save messel fur Strangford MPs.
Thursday, 16 July 2009
It hasnae a webpage oor the like that ah kin link til, but jist imagine, a festival, in Portavogie.
Instied o' face paintin' they'll hiv road paintin'.
I'm wile pissed aff ah'm in Scotland whin a shud be in Portavogie.
Ah love the Ards penisula.
Monday, 13 July 2009
- Yinst ah am goantae hiv a brandy at a time o' the day normally reserved fur drinkin' tae, oor beer. But ye cannae hiv a beer before ye march fur ye micht naid a pit stop haff way til the field.
- Then ah will mak a wee banner oot of paper an' the like.
- Then ah will argue wi' messel o'er who carries the banner. Ah will win the argument an' mak wee Billy carry it.
- From thence ah will gae tae a park an' hiv a wee march til messel. When ah pass folk ah will raise ma umberella an say "Bout ye, grawn day fur it".
- If anyyin tries tae walk across ma path ah will stap them wi' ma umberella an' say "Dinnae walk across the parade, ye boy ye."
- At a prearranged point Mrs McWilliams (in the guise o' the PSNI) will black ma route in case there micht be yin o' the o'er sort aboot, lukkin' fur tae be offended.
- Ah will hiv in ma pocket a letter o' protest which ah will hawnd til Mrs McWilliams, before divertin' messel an' wee Billy doon a differn' path an' lukkin' fur a field.
- Ah will stawn aroun' in the field fur a wile an' mak a few loyal resolutions.
- Ah will ate a haff cooked burger.
- Ah will return tae the car via the same route, an' then drive back tae the house. But nat before passin' roun' a bowler hat tae git a tip fur the driver.
- Ah will drink beer an' ate a big feed o' spuds.
- Naidless tae sae ah will dae awl this whilst hummin' the Sash an Derry's Walls. If ah pass a chapel ah'll hum a bit louder.
Thus ah' will hiv recreated the Twelfth fur messel, an' tamarra ah will repait the process an' pretend ah'm at Scarva. Except ah will add a Sham Ficht wi' wee Billy an' Mrs McWilliams willnae black the route, fur thar arenae oany o' the o'er sort in Scarva.
Ah hope this helps oor exiled raiders, if nat ye micht be able tae fine sumthin' oan the BBC website. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/8146817.stm
Awl went accordin' til plan, except ah refused tae accept the adjudication o' Mrs McWilliams (PSNI) an' we are currently engaged in a tense stawn aff. Rumours o' riotin' are grately exaggerated.
Mair importantly ah furgat aboot poles - Julian Simmons saims tae be the mawn laist likely, an' ah wis perfectly within ma richts til suggest it. This weeks pole his a saisonal flaver.
* It isnae the Twelfth, it's the Thirteenth, but ye cannae march oan the Saubeth sae ye wait til the Maunday. Thus aiven though it's the Thirteenth it's still the Twelfth, an' tamarra will be the Thirteenth. Everythin' gits back til normal oan the day after the Thirteenth, when it'll be the Fifteenth.
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
Yin. Fur those o' yis familyer wi' the wurld o' Motorcycle Road Racin' aways talk a wee bit like Joey Dunlap. If ye dinnae knaw who he is, then see Twa.
Twa. Slow...... yer..... speech.....doon.....a....wile......lat. But.....nat......like.......yer.......sum......kindae.......Forest.....Gump. Raither......like.......yer......thinkin'......aboot......whit......til....say......an'...... dinnae......want......til.....show.....yer......hawn.....mind.
Thrie. Replace the oo sound in foot, wi' a u sound tae mak futt. This alsae wurks fur tuk. An' for os generally. In fak jist put a u wur thur shud be an o, or an e, or indaid an ou. Howiver ye shud replace a u sound wi' an i and an o with an ae. Sometimes ye drap the o tae mak an ah sound tae.
Is that awl clear?
Fower. Replace the ee sound in read with an ay sound tae mak raid.
Five. And, Grand, Sand an' Hand shud awl hiv awnds on the end.
Sax. Use specil wurds like Sleekit (sly - Gerry Adams is a sleekit get) Fernenst (nixt til - as in Norn Iron is fernenst the Free State) an' scunnered (fed up) an' sheugh (ditch).
Echt. Spell things wrang, an' dinnae gie a hoot.
Finally, an' maist importanly, rememmer ye are spakin' the gratest langwidge iver spake. Yer spakin' the langwidge that Governer Walker used til the defenners o' the siege, yer spakin' the langwidge that Davy Crockett spake til his men at the Alamo. When Field Marshall Montgomery was asleep, he didnae dream in that posh voice, he dreamt in Ulster Scots. When Van Morrison cocht the train, it wis til Sandy Row. When George Best dribbled, it wis doon his chin. If yer married til an Amerkin, a kraut, a frog or a sassenach, dinnae be afraid til spake oot. Yiv larned thar auld langwidge, mak them larn yers.
AH AM AN ULSTER SCOT AN' AH AM A FREE MAWN.
Unless ah'm a hen.
Monday, 6 July 2009
Normally ah wid, but the year ah've agraid til tak part in a kultural exchange programme whereby ah tak messel til Scotland til luk at thar beer an' fat folk, an' the Scots send Artur Boruc til put a light til the big bonefire oan the rocks at Ballyhalbert. It is hoped that awl parties will benefit frae this sharin' o' diverseness an' the like.
Thursday, 2 July 2009
The entertainin' industry his bin racked this last wheen o' days by the passin o' twa o' the gratest entertainers the wurld his seen. The passin' o' Michael Jackson wis bad enough, but now we are faced wi' the loss o' Mollie Sugden. As ah' screed thousans o fans wurldwide are bukkin' thar tickets til visit Grace Bruthers, near til England, tae pay tribute til the hen wha' kept losin' her Pussy in the mid seventies.
"But whit his this gat tae dae wi' the Ulster Scot?" ah hear yis cry, fur the yinst time in ages. The anser shud be obvious(ish). As a yung man Michael Jackson's da Joe wis nicknamed "Stonewall" by his pals in Portrush Primary Skool. Emigratin' betwain 1896 an 1927 , he went oan tae father yin o' the gratest Ulster Scots pap icons iver. (Other grate Ulster Scots pap icons include Take Thy'on, wi' ma nephew Rabbie McWilliams, Madonney an' Noddy Hauler aff Slade). Jackson remained true til his roots pennin' hit tunes such as Bate it an' Wullie John - a tribute tae Ulster Rugby Legend WJ McBride, but he wis forced tae change the name o' the tune by his record company.
Mainwile Mollie Sugden - whit makes her an' Ulster Scot? The best ah kin dae is tae claim that the Christian name o' Mrs Slocombe wis Lily.
Thy'ons nat the point, howiver, themuns are deid whilst others live, an' cannae deserve tae dae sae. That is the point o' this weeks pole.
Ulster Scots Academy.
Some consternation o'er the heid o' the Ulster Scots Academy this week.
Some oot thar are claimin' it is a "non-existant" academy, costin' over £7 million. This is Ballicks, fur we here at 1690 are that academy, fur ye kin sit aroun' drunk in yer pants, git degrees an' everythin' jist like a real University.
Rude Place Name Pole
Ah furgat Muff, whit kin a say? Ringsend wins, an' rightly sae o'er the heid o' the opposition. Howiver wi' nae Muff ah declare this pole null an' void.
Fur yince ah am tapical, fur the match oany finished 5 minutes ago. Ah wis bildin' up fur a Wimbleden specil oan how Andy Murray is an Ulster Scot descendeded frae Col Adam Murray, hero o' the Siege o' Londonderry, but now ah cannae be arsed. Fur bye tennis is a hen's game, an' the true sport o' the Ulster Scot is motorcycle road racin'.
*Tapicality is entirely based oan raidin' last weeks papers.