I Don't Mean to Brag, But...

Oh, Aye.

You knows it, folks.


[it says Sausage of the Month]

Hidden Dip.

Some people think literally. Some people think laterally. Some people think differently.

I think in a lot of different ways, and I think in all these ways at one time.

Take, for instance, road signs. We all see road signs all the damned time. They're everywhere that's anywhere with a dash of tarmac. You see road, you see metal pole with shaped metal sign.

They warn you, instruct you, and let you know where you are, and where you're going.

I have a favourite road sign. It is the triangular one, with a big exclamation mark [!] in it, with the words "Hidden Dip" underneath. This road sign, is my favourite, for reasons I am about to disclose.

Scene, Set the:: In a car, as a passenger, on my way to Edinburgh, with my big brother. Our car food is this: doritos and coca-cola. The road is slightly rural, as we had to detour via St. Andrews to pick up his girlfriend [I called him taxi-bitch most of the way there]. Anyway, as we're driving along this road, we come across a "Hidden Dip" sign. Straightaway, I burst into giggles. Girly giggles. I am not proud of my GirlyGiggles, but it's what happened, and i figure I mightaswellbehonest. My brother, utterly perplexed by my reaction, looks around to see if he can spot this obviously hilarious item that has me in stitches.

"What are you laughing about..?" enquires he.
"hahahaa Roffle" said I, still not managing words.
"... What is it?"
"Have you found the village idiot yet, or is he still winning at Hide and Seek?" I say, before giggling all over again.
"Whaaat?"
"The sign said there was a Hidden Dip, Roffle."

He Roffled like I Roffled.

Then, moments later, I had a new thought direction. I took the doritos, and held one out the window.

"Is it too hot?" he asked, sarcastically.
"No, idiot. I figure if it's not the vilage idiot, it could be salsa dip!"

Again, we Roffled.

After five minutes of Roffling, and rather unsteady driving, as he held his sides rather than the steering wheel, we forgot about it, and collected "Mumble" [his girlfriend].

Then, we passed another one, and burst out laughing rather loudly. In fact, I do believe it is safe to say we LOL'ed for a while, whilst she sat there utterly perplexed, and it started all over again.

Good times, I thought.

The Human Kettle

Years ago, when my mother was rather-well affiliated with a local charity, a lovely day waterskiing was arranged at the nearby Findhorn Bay. It was the middle of summer, and a rather lovely day. The sun was shining, the water was calm, and the boat was revving loudly as it took each of us behind it, pulling as at what one can only imagine at that age is a million knots.

It felt like lightspeed.

However, I must confess: I was suffering as big an affliction as they come [an affliction which I still suffer] - Shortness. Yes, I, your humble writer, am a ShortArse. This is highly evident when I am placed beside any or all of my family members, whom all tower above the skies at 6ft +. Even my dogs are taller than me, quite frankly.

Alas, back to the story.

After my ill-fated attempt to actually try and waterski, completely regardless of my small frame and even smaller feet - which of course led to approximately three failed attempts to waterski, which then led to the mention of the dreaded "Biscuit." - which I was forced to sit in, behind the boat, and not enjoy myself and be as showy-offy as I normally would have been. Rather a dampened mood I suffered. However, looking back, I am glad I got to sit in the Biscuit - It meant I could relax and take in my surroundings, and view the Seals, which lazily lay in the sun on an isolated patch of land in the water. A sort of "Seal island", if you will.

After my turn was over, my little brother - whom at this time was still shorter than me - had a go. Sitting in the biscuit, with a happy-go-lucky smile on his face, and an air of contentment, he set off on what was to become the most harowing journey of his life. The boat accelrerated. 10, 15, 20, one million Knots. No danger, just fun. Then the boat turned the corner, and took him on a Journey past Seal Island. He looked over at the seals, and smiled. "Aw, cute. Seals.", thought He. Not for long.

Once they spotted him; a young boy in a very fragile-looking inflatable donut... They decided to attack. Diving into the water like synchronised swimmers set to Kill, they embarked on a speedy chase after him. Their fangs glistened with the blood of young, and they looked hungry for more. Famished for Children, one might say.

Upon seeing the Killer seals with evilbadscary teeth coming hurtling towards him at a hundred and fifty metres per second, he screamed. I say screamed... It was more like a squeal. A high pitched squeal that only a child with a broken soul and absolute fear instilled in him can squeal. And squeal, he did. Terrified for his life, he was.
Watching him squeal was so mesmerising: he did not seem to take in or expel breath. He simply..circulated air in through his nostrils, and straight out through his mouth, and an alamring rate. Much like a kettle left on the stove too long. Much like a referee's whistle... He was calling time.


The boat, with it's engines roaring loudly, carried on regardless, until an eagle-eyed mother [ours] spotted the water streaming down his face. Far too salty for seawater, it was. He was crying.

To this day, Aaron still cannot look at the sea.

OUT OF ORDER!!!

In the Leith area of Edinburgh, there are some new flats being built around what is now known as Western Harbour.

In this area, the flats are very nice, very expensive, and - as I inadvertently found out this evening - very, very funny!

I was visiting my eldest brother in one of these aformentioned flats, and played his XBox360 [RBK: Pro Evo, incase you wondered.]. For a couple of hours, fun was to be had, and was being had, until myself and my brother-between-me-and-the-eldest had to leave, to go back to our other flat.

So... we step outside, and go toward the elevator. The man-in-the-elevator* calls from downstairs: "Going Up". As the lift made its way from "the basement" to our floor, my big brother decided to see if he could force open the doors we were standing by.
No, he couldn't.

"They must put some sort of anti-grip stuff on these doors to stop people doing that" said he.
"No, it's just that they're polished clean every now and again", corrected I.

So, we step in the lift, and I push "-1" [The Basement].
I decide to prove to Brother that I am in fact right, and as the doors close and Mr.Lift proclaims
"Going Down", I push open the doors, only to hear, BARKING out of the speakers in the same manner a furious Doric-speaking father asks
"dae yi wint a fuckin' skelp?"
The lift-man screams at me:

OUT OF ORDER!

This is not in the same manner as those polite vending machines in a hospital, that never have a twix or anything else in them, and tell you with a bit of paper sellotaped onto the glass that it is "out of order". No, this automated voice sounded like I had ANGERED him. And, to me... this is just funny.

So, I let go of the doors, not in fear, but in absolute hysterics, as I fall to my knees, giggling away like a MonkeyonAcid, followed shortly by my brother for whom the penny fell slightly later, as we realise that I've just been exposed as a wee whippersnapper by an elevator!!

Of course, this leads us to many, many, many more stories which I shall relay to this blog in due course.


*NB - not really a man, just an automated voice through the speakers.