Tuesday, 23 December 2014

Swan Song

“Fit like Nigel?”

“Goodness me Convener, where have you been?”

“Weel, seen as ye’re askin’ a wis jist in the laavy. Fit wis ye needin’ tae ken for oneywey?”

“No Convener , I didn’t mean your physical presence, I was talking about your digital presence, you know, your blog. We haven’t seen sight or sound of that for ages.”

“Ah weel Nigel ye ken fit it’s like, aa’ve jist been ower busy. An’ my blogs a bit like Downton and Strictly - ye dinna hear much aboot them in the summer bit sure enouch, fin the nichts draa’ in, ye hear aboot naethin’ else. Oneywey, fit’s that ye’ve got in the boxie?”

“Oh it’s your office supplies - but I need to ask you about that.”

“Ask me fit?”

“Well you’ve ordered 10 bottles of Tippex. Why on earth would anyone require that amount?”

“Oh aye, ma Tippex, that’s great. A wis needin it fir ma recycling.”

“Recycling Convener? What on earth has Tippex got to do with recycling?”

“Weel it’s aa this cutbacks. Ye see we’ve nae money for luxuries like Christmas Cards but fin aa wiz haein’ a redd oot last week aa fun’ a great pile o’ aal’ Christmas Cards at the back o’ the office press. They’d come frae aa’’ oo’er the place an some o’ them wis gey fantoosh. So I thocht ti’ masel’ - if ah jist Tippexed oot the signatures, an gee them a bit dicht up - they wid dae jist fine this year tae send oot frae the Moray Cooncil Convener tae ah his freen’s.”

“To all your friends Convener? Well that’s one blessing - you won’t need too many!”

“Jist watch it sunshine! The Moray Cooncil is damnt near the top o’ the league fir recycling so ah’ll jist dae a wee bit mair! There’s nithin’ wrang wi’ improving yer green credentials ye ken - an’ it’ll aye save a bitty mair money.”

“Well be that as it may but I can’t help feel that it will present a very poor image”.

“Peer image? Am nae usin’ a photae o’ masel’ ye ken. It’ll jist be fitivver’s on the cards that ah got.”

“Noooo Convener! I didn’t mean your image I meant the image of the Council It will make us seem to be very penny pinching.”

“Abso-blooming-lootely Nigel, cos ‘ats jist fit we’re aa’ aboot.”

“Well if that’s the case I can’t see that you’re saving much money anyway - what with the cost of postage these days.”

“Oh ah ken - it’s jist a damned disgrace. It costs 12 bob noo fir a first class stamp! My Granny cwid feed a femily o’ fower on that amount o’ money an’ still hae change fir a nicht oot at the pictures an’ a fish supper!”

“Please Convener we’ve agreed to keep your Granny out of these discussions.”

“Weel am nae caring – it’s still 12 bob for a stamp. I kin min’ fan that wis the cost o a dog licence.”

“A what, Convener?”

“Oh it disnae metter - ‘cos aa’ve come up wi’ an idea tae save us the cost o postage oneywey.”

“And what would that be, Convener?”

“Boy Scouts.”

“Boy Scouts, Convener?”

“Aye, ye mak’ a smaa’ donation tae the Boy Scouts an’ they go oot an deliver aa’ yer Christmas cards for ye.”

“But Convener, some of the people you send cards to are not local. How do you expect the Scouts to deliver Christmas Cards all over the country?”

“Weel I dinnae ken - maybe ane o’ them’s got a bike?”

“Convener, you can’t have Boy Scouts cycling all over the country at your bidding just to save a few pence.”

“Weel, mony a mickle mak’s a muckle an’ aam jist tryin t’dae ma bit.”

“Yes Convener!”

“Ah weel, that’s ma’ swansong. Bye bye aabody – hae’ yersel’s a Couthy Christmas and I wish ye aa’ the best for the New Year.”

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