Wullie and his boy.

[piscatus absentis]

Shithead Wullie was teaching one of his sons to fish.  I?ve never mentioned that he has children but with his physical attributes they?re difficult to avoid; no one makes prophylactic devices large enough to fit him.  Wullie never practices safe sex; he never needed to practice sex of any kind; it came naturally to him.  If you happen to wander around the streets of the Monklands you?ll see lots of children who look just like him; you can?t mistake the shape of the head and the hair colour. 

Lots of husbands in the area do, in fact, suspect that a strange bull has been in the field but their wives simply say that it happened one night they came home ?blootered?.  Since being  ?blootered? is a permanent affliction of many Monkland males this is seen as a reasonable explanation.  I?ve heard it said that many of these men have only encountered the intimate parts of their partners on the first night of the honeymoon, and some not even then.  And frustration breeds - usually with Shithead Wullie.

I?m not sure how many children he has.  This is down to the education system in the Monklands.  There the counting system goes, ?one.. two..three.. a lot?.  After a lot you have ?hunners? and after that, ?hunners and hunners?.  Don?t be so cruel as to discuss cosmological concepts with these people - it fuses their brains and leads to bottlenecks in the Monklands General Hospital.  Mind you, give them a winning bookie?s line and they?ll outperform any computer.   Some of you might be tempted to snigger at this mathematical deficiency but just remember that I know you still deal in ?haunfus? and ?wheens?.  As in, Dundee have a ?huanfu? of supporters but United have a ?wheen?.

But back to Wullie and his son.  He had laid out a selection of different jars of Powerbait for the boy and was asking that he taste each one, ?so ye ken whit the fish ur takin??.  The lad never objected and, indeed, seemed to be enjoying the experience.  When he reached the maggots and worms I felt like turning away before realising that I?d already seen it on the telly.  The boy took a handful of maggots, chewed them and swallowed the result, smacking his lips to get the full flavour.  Then he did the same with some worms.  ?Da?, he said, ?they taste like the stuff Ma gave us fur denner last night?.  Wullie looked puzzled an tasted a few himself, ?naw?, he said, ?they dinnae taste like bridies, mair like thae pies wi? the cheese oan tap?.

I?ll never put a Greggs pie near my mouth again.

[Clan Chief]

Brilliant as ever P.A.
Have you ever met the big guy who smokes a pipe fae Harthill who fishes Hillend. He is usually hanging about the clubhouse. His tackle bag consists of nothing other than hunners of jars of powerbait. That bag of his must weigh a ton. No wonder he doesn't venture much further away than the clubhouse.
Saying that I met him last Tuesday as I arrived at Forsyth's carpark he was just leaving and was going back to where he usually fishes. He said I was waisting my time going down the narrows as he had been fishing there for the last couple of hours and had tried every colour he had.He also mentioned that the walk to Teds tree and back had nearly killed him.Needless to say I fished along the narrows and after only ten minutes or so I caught a trout on a wee hare's lug. I then sat back and watched Mr P/Bait struggle down to the shore with his chair and his incredibly heavy bag from the opposite shore and wondered if he would eventually get  the right colour on.

[harelug]

it fuses their brains and leads to bottlenecks in the Monklands General Hospital.

That'll be Buckfast Bottlenecks!