Keep abreast of developments in Dumpdee with our Hilltoon correspondent : The Major, who offers his own individual perspective on the City...
On this page you'll find The Major's comments for 2005
You can also check out the 2006, 2007-08, archives and current page for more recent items...!
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I ask the reader what is happening to the Hilltown clock?
Why have the ‘The blessed Fathers of morning inebriation,’ guardians of such things locally, allowed it to become so covered in graffiti and in such a dilapidated state. Surely we have let our standards slip since my great-grandfather used to wear it on his fob-chain on his morning preamble. Only donating it to the good people of the Hill under the dictates of his Will, hastily written as he lay dying, on the back of a ‘Players’ filter tipped packet.
I mean I do not wish to read about how many pigs could be castrated in the streets in 1972, or the price of Gold on the Tealing Stock market in 1986. And I especially do not wish to read about Old Mary Sare’Erse (Artherstone Terrace - Labour, Twice! Shonna and Glub Major, 78 and 12 respectively) ranting on about how many sojers she could fit into an Anderson Shelter in the ‘guid al days’ of the last war. (Surely we should have forgotten about the Afghanistan debacle by now ).
In truth I was so distressed I had to repair to the ‘sweetie shop’ opposite. And of course now that it has become so ‘World Famous,’ it is almost as if their is no place for the locals within it confectioned portals.
I patiently waited for three hours behind Sean Connery, and then Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, and those other three Bonds. All humming and hawing, and finally ordering the same thing, a quarter of ‘Fisherman’s Friend,’
By the time I was served I was so unhappy I gorged myself on an extra large slider, 5 macaroon bars and a sugar mouse.
Thank goodness relief from over-indulgence can be found in the pet shop a few yards away. After a packet of Bob Martins I was quite my old self again.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
I have the painful duty to inform all his many friends that Blind Boy, ‘Stumpie’ McCain. That fine blues singer and Dumpdee institution died this week after a late night drinking session. It seems that the particular brand of horse liniment - for the treatment of various veins - he was imbibing, spontaneously combusted, and he was burnt to a Walkers before help could be sought. And oniway since his unsuccessful bum transplant in 1998, he really had never been the same man.
His promising career as lead guitarist with the ‘Dave Shannon Four all Girls School Showband,’ was tragically cut short by an accident making mud pies for the construction of the Tay Road Bridge in the early 1960’s. His left hand could not be saved and so he had it replaced with the finest steel slide that Willie ‘Butter fingers’ Blow, ( joiner and plumber to those in need - no quotes, no house calls) could knock up in the spare 20 minutes he had before his next homer.
He continued with his career recording such classic’s as, ‘I went down to the Circle, and fell on someone else’s knee’s. Sweet Home Milngavie,’ and of course the timeless ‘Weeish Lad,’
In fact your older reader must remember the dancehall they used to play at on the Hilltown. ‘The Old Curiosity Chocolate Box,’ I believe it was called. A venue popular with pale skinned young men of a certain persuasion, known to each other by there furtive looks, polo-neck sweaters and pinkie rings.
As if fate had not dealt him a bad enough blow, his eyes were tragically gouged out at a particular vicious sheep fight in Brechin in 1981. A young ewe, high on the victory of her third win in a row tried to mount him, and was none too pleased when she was kindly but gently rebuffed.
The funeral will be held at the Fintry annex of St Eustace O Cohen’s on Thursday next, and then on to the Cremmie. No flowers but a donation to the ‘Old Dumpdee home for itinerant Bluesmen,’ will be gratefully accepted by Father O Flatulence after the service…
For those family unaware, his ashes will be eaten on the day.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
To dinner last night at the in the Perth Road at the ‘Itsafarce Hotel,’ a celebration for the youngest reporter on the ‘Dumpdee Daily Bulge.’ He had been forced to take his retiral at the absurdly early age of 104, as he has recently been diagnosed with a terminal case of ‘bicycle clip rash,’ caught from his company vehicle!
If I say so myself the Memsahib and I cut a rug on the dance-floor. Frugging down to all the old favourites like the Kingoodie Twostep and the Claypotts Cha- Cha. At the evenings close it was thankfully reported that there had been only three dead extricated from the Mosh-Pit at the foot of the stage.
The highlight of the evening began early for us. We had just sat down to our meal when one of the waiters, a delightful young blade with flowing golden locks, conveniently tied up of course in order to keep his hair out of the soup; dropped his order all over the floor.
At this the band broke into an impromptu version of that old Lena Martell classic ‘One tray at a time dear Numpty. One tray at a time…’
Oh how we laughed…
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
Had Chuffie ‘Pooter’ Backdraft, member of the Cooncil for the Hilltown Ward and his delightful wife Terrance over for drinks last night. They had already dinned magnificently at the Deep C in the toon, so we simply served the usual porky scratchlings and sheep innards as ordure’s
What a thoroughly fine fellow he is and he so likes his vintage Iron Brue (sic). Unfortunately after his 15th bottle he let something slip out which was rather embarrassing for the Memsahib and I.
Once he had adjusted himself accordingly, he made amends and told us of a secret Cooncil decision made only yesterday. I of course can divulge the secret to you first dear reader, before you open the pages of the ‘Dumpdee Daily Bulge,’ in the forenoon tomorrow. I know it is indiscreet and will probably cost me my friendship with the ‘Big Chuff’ - as the Memsahib and I so affectionately call him. But such things as this cannot be kept from the Council Tax payers in this city; outlying suburbs non contribution notwithstanding.
|They are to knock down the Undergate Centre in the toon. They wish to demolish the dreadful concrete and glass edifice that only opened last year and replace it by Christmas with the far more beautiful wind-chased, sun-drenched edifice that had stood so nobly, and with such rectitude since the famous bribery days of the 1960’s.
It appears that Tommie Wizz, ( member for Kirtown South, ) has had the whole structure safe in his back garden since its demolition. Now that the wife has given him an ultimatum, that it is either the chickens or her, he has agreed to sell it back to the Cooncil for a mere fraction of the bribery money he took to tear it down in the first place…
So, all’s well that ends well then?
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
The boy Tarquin (our youngest, 5 and ¾) came home flushed with excitement from St Eustace O Cohen’s Primary, for displaced Chav’s in Strathmartine Road, early this forenoon. I say early, as the entire school was sent home, after the jannie had thrown a hissy-fit during an argument with his wife Stephen, (shoe size 8 - international 42) and had climbed onto the roof of the distillery dressed as a ‘Bill the Baldragon Badger.
The stalwart members of the Dumpdee fire-brigade - always prompt when you actually don’t need them - say they will retrieve him, even if they, ‘hae to shoot the b*****d doon,’ in about three days. The school can then re-convene for the Saint’s day of St Maude of the incorruptible bowel-movements, always a great popular with Hilltown residents. She of course being the patron of correct toilet procedure.
Now, back to my point, do you not think class sizes in the city are a little too large? The Memsahib and I think that for matters of crowd containment and riot control they should be limited to say 106. We will be talking at length regarding this matter to Sister Francie ‘ Dinnae youz bather me I havnae got the time’ Thompson, at the next parents coffee morning.
We do think that it is wonderful though that they integrate the classes. The young one’s helping their elders to master the difficult task’s of shoelace tying and how to put your underpants on the right way around. One young boy of only 17 summers spent one whole morning on this extremely taxing task. Determinedly stepping in and out of his soiled boxers until finally he got it right. We can only applaud his parent for producing such a determined and plucky individual
Tarquin returned to Hilltown Towers laddened down with reading material for us. A selection of self help pamphlets and how to do’s, on any number of subjects, thoughtfully produced by Dumpdee Healthcare Crust.
And what a delightful read they were. There was such a fine range of subjects that I can only point out a selected few for you and your own family’s delectation.
‘Expecting aye, and only 6. Nits, and what to serve them with. Cooncil indiscretions, and how to cover them up. Sexual health for the under 5’s. The care and cleaning of a badly vomit stained hoodie,’ and our favourite ‘Personal hygiene and the attention of serious stab wounds, for those who cannae be ersed tae gang tae Ninewells.’
They can of course be ordered direct from the Healthcare Crust. Any Off-Licence, the Spar, and of course your Social Worker.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
On the past Monday forenoon the Memsahib was truly amazed!
Stobie our ever reliable driver took her to the new department store at Frew’s Circle. The Memsahib and I find it just too quaint, for it appears that here the locals refer to them as circles, where as we outcasts from London pretend they are roundabouts.
‘Lysol,’ was the name she gave I believe. The sight of the locals buying armfuls of pressed meats, low-calorie spreads and organic radicchio was a sight that she will long treasure.
She was I think most impressed by their cunning marketing strategies. Christmas cakes at Easter and Easter eggs at Christmas. Who indeed would have thawkt it
She spent minutes browsing the various departments, and if had not been for Stobies watchful eye - he unfortunately only has the one - she would have been swept away in the crush and carried up to the 5th floor Sun-Terrace by the crowd.
She said that the Hough panini and mince baguettes were a sight to behold, but felt that the lard sculpture of our brave first minister Jack O Conner was a little garish, painted cerise with toxic food colourings, as it was.
Excitedly she made a large purchase and bought all of the children’s pant’s she could fit into the boot of the carriage and four.
I mean, nylon underwear is so hard to come by these days
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
P.S One thing I have forgotten to mention. When next in the department store do pick up a copy of the hand tooled, limited edition brochure. I believe it is produced weekly, showing the best fare available. I urge you to collect them all, back numbers can be ordered at the till. I believe because of there outstanding beauty they will become a collectors item. A little nest egg for the weans.
Of course when Chelsea, Battersea, South Norwood (cook on Wednesday and Friday ) all the bargains are gone. Should I be surprised? Why of course not! Are not my fellow Hilltown residents the discerning sort..
The Cafetiere’, Coffee Grinder’ and Chef’s blow Torch’s, are all eagerly snapped up. Of course the cooking pan with aroma knob simply flew off the shelves.
(Strange, I actually though I was the only one who possessed one of those. I am so grateful to the Memsahib for her tender ministration’s in the family’s communal bath each morning.)
To Halleys Sushi bar at the top of the Hill last night, for the monthly meeting of the Old ‘Comestibles Dumpdee Branch.’ held as usual in the rear Banqueting Hall.
Slight altercation in the Lena Lovich Lounge before the meeting came to order though. It appears that the bar snacks were not to everyone’s liking. These were quickly removed by the barkeep Shuggie and replaced by a tapas selection.
I was later challenged by one Albert Spear (65 ½. Hat size, too large anyway) as to my credentials for the job of chairman . I would like to take this opportunity to get things out in the open - if its not too cold - so that there can be no further dissention regards my service record
I took the ‘Kings shilling,’ and first saw action at Culloden under Bonnie Billy Cumberland, (or Wills as he was so affectionately called) Left wing 3rd Undergraduate Head collection unit, rebel’s for the use of. I was then assistant Bed warmer to the Duke of Wellington throughout his years of the sword. I rode out with Cardigan throughout the Crimean Campaign (actually it was a twin-set , but thankfully no one noticed.) My first commission came during the Boer war - yes dear reader it was rather - as Captain of B division lavvies in the ‘Queens Old Orderers.’
I subsequently missed the first ‘Big One’ of the last Century due to an unhealed veruca. (Thank you Coldside Medical practice! ) I was then back in the thick of it with Rommel in the Desert. Monty in Normandy, Mrs Betty Belmont, Mrs Aggie Gordon and Mr Davie Smallpiece in the toon.
Sent to Korea as undercover Sporran retriever for Dumpdee’s finest, ‘The Jocks in Frocks,’ I was badly wounded when one of them exploded under me; the sporran dear reader not the Jock. Early retirement came soon after when I met the current Memsahib, working as a covert Pole-Dancer in the Soho Jungle
I am glad to set the record straight and hope this is an end to the matter.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
William McConackle third uncle, 4 times removed, took the twins Rupert and Hermione on an expedition, Tuesday last. Out to the Potato experimentation factory on the Farse of Cowerie.
I can report without hesitation that a fine time was had by all. They were taken on an extensive tour of the factory facilities by a thoroughly agreeable young chap, whose knuckles only dragged on the ground twice the entire trip; thereby giving away the locality of his birth.
They toured the potato beds where the new varieties were being lovingly tended by earnest young men with barely a speech impediment to be heard amongst them. They were shown, and then sampled, The Frockheim fancy; a taste somewhat akin to a wet wellie. The Rose of Montrose, a rather deflated corsage of wilted flowers. As to the flower of Scotland, well, the least said the better.
They were even shown the Top Secret, lower laboratory where only the most intricate experiment’s are conducted. They have been working since the mid 70s in the difficult task of trying to cross a gadgie with a potato; sadly dear reader the potato keeps rejecting all attempts thus far.
In fact Hermione was so stricken by her visit that she has since been making floral arrangements exclusively with Tatties. Each night after ballet practice in the dance- hall on the ninth floor she sits down to make her wonderful creations. She has even been asked to prepare as many as possible in order to hold an expedition in the foyer of the ACDC Centre in the Nethergate.
Actually, it seems rather a shame to cook them. Our 2nd under house-boy so loves them raw. As is the custom with he and the other underprivileged folk who live off the ‘Cleppie.’
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
The Memsahib and I, having recently read Elizabeth Fry’s, wonderful Quaker tome. ‘Prison visits and how to do them without personal injury,’ so it was without a seconds hesitation that we accepted the Local Sheriff, Sandy ‘Big Guns’ Magee’s, kind offer to show us personally around the Bell Street hotel.
Firstly I must congratulate the Cooncil on the uniform they have provided for Sandy. We found that check shirt, oversized hat and soapstone replica Colt 45’s, really did make him look the part. Although no matter how fetching he appeared, we did think that just leather chaps and a G string over his Cuban’s, were a little inappropriate with the colder night’s coming on.
After a champagne reception in the vast and tastefully decorated entrance hall, we were escorted into the belly of the building by a delightful young man known to all as Sammy nae Todger. If it had not been pointed out, thoughtfully by him of course, that his face disfiguring acne often caused offence, we would never have noticed. The Memsahib informed him that it was due to lack of sunlight and poor diet. Once his voice broke it would all disappear. He seemed comforted by her kind words.
It was only when we reached ‘the cages,’ that we had a glimpse of the Gadgius Numpticus (of course using the Latin translation) in their natural habitat. We were amazed that how, after only a few times decanted into these spacious apartments, even newcomers to the group could emulate the screeching of the others.
Soon the cries of ‘Boss…Boss,’ and the plaintive refrain of ‘Light ma Smoke… Light ma Smoke…,’ filled the air. It simply shows you that they had been brought up by their over-indulgent parent, with the cinematic delights of ‘Cool Hand Luke,’ constantly viewed on pay-per-view. Why it was a miracle that some of those more alert, had even been taught to utter the sound. ‘Water…Water.’ But, as they were hosed down regularly by the nice folk from Robin Reliant - Jailers to the Gentry - this was not a requisite for survival.
Later as we wondered amongst the floral garden a group were led up from below ground to bask in the late-autumn sunshine. A further group, each with his own carefully engraved, presentation leg and wrist bracelet; no doubt a treasured memento of their brief stay, were cheerily waved onto a luxury touring coach..
I swear that the Memsahib had tears in her eyes as the gate opened and the coach disappeared into the harr, transporting them all to a relaxing break in that well known health Spa in Perth. The community singing - especially the falsetto parts. Top C is extremely hard to achieve after the age of 7 - of, ‘We’re all going on a Summer Holiday,’ will truly live on in our hearts as a memento of that very special day.
We cannot thank Sandy enough for the opportunity. Sadly we were informed that they rarely get in new stock, so our visit may be the last for some time.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
Dear reader I wonder if you can help
We are having terrible, terrible trouble with young Justin (sexuality unsure) Its alcohol you see, he’s just not drinking enough
As an avid reader of Zipper and Gay Times, not only has he been battling with his sexual problems. But he has recently started decorating the walls of the snooker room with pictures of oiled wrestlers.
Unfortunately his new friends are no help whatsoever. With their carefully parted hair, Academy blazers and well polished shoes, we fear that he is mixing with the wrong sort of friend’s altogether. For they are likewise inclined; abstaining from alcohol dear reader, not the wrestling pictures.
Now, the Memsahib and I like a drink, but compared with some of our friends on the Hill we are positively tea-total. Why, even Mrs Puggie Johnson, drinks 24 Carlsberg’s, 24 McEwen’s and a bottle of Jameson’s, during her morning chores.
Which of course we find quite acceptable, as her polishing is without equal.
In an attempt to change his unacceptable behaviour we purchased 4 crate’s of Heavy, a case of brandy and 3 alcho-pops from the Spar as he was having the whole of the Academy for a sleep over in the newly decorated Moira Anderson wing; but no, only Evian and the sparkling had been touched when we came to flush then out the following morning.
Justin recently travelled to Edinburgh to see that American music combo ‘Plastic Revolver.’ He and his friends have recently become fanatical about Izzi Stradlin (probably?) and the lead guitarist of the combo, Splash. The Memsahib and I must say that we find these people totally unsuitable for an impressionable boy of his age to be avidly following. We would rather he emulated the respectable antic’s of the two much loved residents of the Bell St hotel, Big Eck Thompson and Billy Sideburns (goal and inside-right centre-forward) from the Arabs. Or at the very least Pasqual Manuel Tolstoy Dumpdee’s premiere paper-comb player.
Along with a large hamper containing a wide selection of gristle sandwiches, dulce vol’e’vonts and bridies. We carefully wrapped 48 bottles of Stella. 14 Bacardi Breezers and three casks of Watneys Red Barrel. More than adequate for the two hour journey to the capital we thought. Sadly no. They returned with the lot, saying it was tainted.. Mrs Puggie Johnson kindly helped us out and consumed everything the following morning – before the contents of her own shopping trolley of course - and she felt that it was all acceptable, if drunk at room temperature.
We have since bought him a banjo and hope that shuts him up for a while
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
Stunned late last night in the smoking room at Hilltown Towers when Stobie our much loved driver came up from inseminating the mares in the lower paddock. A job he says he likes to do himself, as he assures us that his own semen is far more reliable than the flock of Arab Stallions we keep for that very purpose; and of course who are we to disagree with his superior knowledge.
Noticing that I was somewhat down in the month having had to call off my trip to the Sidlaw’s in search of the Clootie. I am sare disappointed. Do the young gadgies of Dumpdee not wish to work for £500 a day, full clothing and generous perdiem included.
However, this aside, he suggested suggested a trip to the West End. Initially I had no idea that the Lear Jet was back from the cleaners, and the Memsahib was sure that the carriage and four could never make it all that way to London on just one bag of oats. We were reassured by Stobie that no, it was closer to home than that. He took the time to carefully explain to us that it was an area to the West of Dumpdee and a sight we really should witness for ourselves. After hastily hitching up the transportation, we set off
Oh dear reader if you could have experienced the squalor we encountered there it would have made you weep. Even as I write the Memsahib has taken to her bed in the Kenneth McKeller memorial wing and refuses to be comforted. The sight of row after row of mince-kitchens. Derelict Charity emposium’s. Tenaments open to the elements (or was that elephants?) Families huddeled pitifully together, one to a flat, with barely an Espresso machine to call there own. The hollow eyed bairns cowering in doorways with only a copy of the ‘Dumpdee Daily Bulge,’ to cover there nakedness. The plaintive laments of the one-legged, one-eyed tramps in the streets as they sang ‘Hey pal, can youz spare us a Boab,’ would have melted the hardest MSP’s heart.
The Memsahib and I know how magnificently you came to the rescue of the Great Whitefield Earthquake fund. We now initiate our own charity appeal, and ask you for contributions now matter how large or small. Helpfully, donations can be paid direct from any post or benefit office, or as usual the Hilltown Spar.
We ask you most humbly to find it in your hearts to do the same once again. So dig deep in your pocket to help pull these poor, unfortunate wretches from the squalor they are forced to live in.
We know that you will rise to this challenge Oh citizens of Dumpdee.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.
PS…Feeling ever so pleased with this expedition Stobie has promised us an more interesting trip, to a far more run down area of the city. He calls it Broughty Ferry. We can only wait….
The boy Tarquin (our youngest, 5 and ¾) returned with extra homework this evening from St Eustace O Cohen’s Primary, for displaced Chav’s in Strathmartine Road. Apart from having to make a full-scale model of a tenement from discarded waste products, but, produce a series of full colour lithographs of the said tenement by the morning; he felt the task was a little beyond him.
Thankfully help was at hand. Inspiration from a delightful set of pictures taken by the under capital punishment master, Rabbi-Father, Cane-a-lot O Conlan. We especially liked the photograph of the ‘Big Blue Crane,’ going about it’s business, fixing chimneys in the toon. We were also heartened by the father’s - I didn’t know those of the cloth were allowed to bear children? - addendum, noting helpfully on the attachment, that whilst doing their child’s homework for them, he wished all parents to note the Cooncil’s continuing good works on their behalf.
The Memsahib and I would also like to congratulate the Cooncil in there forward thinking, and utter pride in their civic duty. By the simple act of removing all the chimneys in the tenements in the Hilltown, they are foregoing any adequate form of heating for those in the area. As winter is fast approaching - the worst in 40 years if we are to believe the forward weather forecasts - these measures will no doubt help them balance any wayward budgets.
With the ensuing deaths, this will surely help cut next year’s Dumpdee Health Crust bill. Of course thankfully allowing more Cooncil-Tax money to be spent on figurative lard sculptures, and antique condom expeditions.(sic) So thoughtfully provided - after any number of expense-driven lunches - by those good people of the ACDC Centre in the Nethergate, for the limited at large.
Major Symington Fforbes (retired) BSE, Chocolate Biscuit and Crunchie Bar.