Billy’s Desiderata by Billy Connolly

Tread gently on anyone who looks at you sideways.
Have lots of long lie-ins.
Wear sturdy socks, learn to grow out of medium underwear
and if you must lie about your age do it in the other direction:
tell people you’re 97 and they’ll think you look fucking great.

Try to catch a trout and experience the glorious feeling of letting it go
and seeing it swimming away.
Never eat food that comes in a bucket.
If you don’t know how to meditate at least try to spend some time every day just sitting.

Boo joggers. Don’t work out, work in. Play the banjo.
Sleep with somebody you like. Eat plenty of liquorice allsorts.
Try to live in a place you like. Marry somebody you like.
Try to do a job you like.
Never turn down an opportunity to shout ‘fuck them all!’ at the top of your voice.

Avoid bigots of all descriptions.
Let your bed become to you what the Pole Star was to sailors of old… look forward to it.
Don’t wear tight underwear on aeroplanes.
Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. After that, who cares?
He’s a mile away and you’ve got his shoes.

Clean your teeth and keep the company of people who will tell you when there’s spinach on them.
Avoid people who know the answer.
Keep the company of people who are trying to understand the question.
Don’t pat animals with sneaky eyes.
If you haven’t heard a good rumour by 11am, start one.

Learn to feel sorry for music because,
although it is the international language, it has no swearwords;
if you don’t count Wagner which in my opinion is one long one and should be avoided at all cost.
If you write a book, be sure it has exactly 74 ‘fucks’ in it.

Send Hieronymous Bosch prints to elderly relatives for Christmas.
Avoid giving LSD to guide dogs.
Don’t be talked into wearing a uniform. Salute nobody.
Campaign against blue smarties.

Above all, go to Glasgow at least once in your life
and have a roll and square sliced sausage and a cup of tea.
When you feel the tea coursing over your spice singed tongue,
you’ll know what I mean when I say ‘It’s good to be alive!’

Go on Yerself, Big Man

I thought I was reading a Simpsons’ script:
“Loudspeaker repair shop told to keep the noise down:
A loudspeaker repair shop has been told to keep the noise down by a council who decided to build a library next door.” yells the Daily Telegraph. What ARE these guys thinking of? “Hmmm… so, we have a grant for a library… now where shall we put it…. I KNOW !!!!!!!” Jesus wept
I suppose the Bryant and May factory is next to the Fireworks shop too?

A rare photo of the Author (no longer 23) handling solids

The world is in recession
And this week, across the pond
Hope has sprung eternal
For their country, not beyond

For Obama’s in the white house
McCain has had his chips
But we have two dour Scotsmen
Who are giving me the pip

The Timerous Beastie, Gordon
Is told to lose the frown
But his smile’s just as Scary
The future’s looking Brown

His mate next door, named Ally
Is bailing out the banks
And saving fat cats bonuses
Without so much as thanks

The rest of are horrified
The country’s gone to pish
We shout and moan and protest
He tells us Haud yer Wheesht

Job prospects aren’t too rosy
In fact they’re looking Dreek
I won’t need no Sarkozy
To cut my working week

The British Pound’s in freefall
It’s dipped below the euro
And no-one has the faintest clue
In Gordon’s Politburo

So no sweet nothings, Darling
Our time will come, don’t worry
You two wee jocks have gone to pot
Thank Christ for Andy Murray

By Mike McBealing