Monthly Archives: June 2008

Council boss’s name unsullied

Posted on June 30, 2008 | Leave a comment

THE other day, I was asked: “So what do you think about Ms Campbell being sentenced to community service for kicking two cops and bad-mouthing the pilot of a plane?” I said I was not surprised and it was down to pressure. That, I have to admit, was because I thought, wrongly, that they were talking about Angus Campbell, the vice-convener of Western Isles Council.

While Angus is a permanently pleasant guy I have known since we were about 12 and very well since he tried to sneak a peek at my answers in the Higher English mock exam, he had been getting it in the ear from anti-wind turbine campaigners before the big plan was all scrapped. And he flies a lot. And Ms Campbell sounds very like Angus Campbell when said quickly. They may be soundalikes, but I must make it clear that Angus Campbell doesn’t really look like the fiery Naomi Campbell. Much.

Had I known the other Campbell was claiming it was a case of racial discrimination, I would have known we weren’t talking about the fair-skinned, unleaded baron from the Battery.

So, sorry, Angus, if I unwittingly sullied your reputation. I don’t think that even our other classmate Catriona, of Moorlands Without Turbines, would make you kick out in spike-heeled boots and use language like your clanswoman.

Everyone has been confused and confusing this week. On Friday, the BBC issued an online gale warning for northern Britain. Heck, I thought, this is northern Britain. All of Scotland is northern Britain. The Press and Journal covers the most northern part of Britain. Did they mean us? It was only when I read the detail that I discovered that Auntie Beeb did not mean northern Britain at all. She meant northern England. I asked for an immediate explanation on Friday. Still waiting, of course.

We have novel ways of raising the much-needed money for Bethesda, the care home and hospice in Stornoway. Last Friday, they were dancing in the streets, well, the car park, down in Back. The following night, there was drag racing. It was at Stornoway Airport. Steinish International is hardly Santa Pod raceway but, what the heck, they are both disused airfields. Or at least they were on Monday when the airport firefighters went on strike.

Sadly, I was not allowed to go. The missus wouldn’t let me. I did ask innocently if she fancied a night out at the drag racing, but that was when she really lost the plot. She lashed out: “Why would I want to go and see grown men in fancy dress and lipstick and stilettos trying to get to a finishing line?”

Uh? This is Kiwi and Asher and a wrench of mechanics we’re talking about. It would take too long to explain. She can just go on thinking that a posse of competitive Lily Savage lookalikes were teetering around Branahuie on high heels.

Dumbfounded I was when a Scottish politician I’d never heard of proclaimed we’re all too miserable. Don’t lump everyone in with the Free Church (Continuing), I thought. This was Glasgow MP and transport minister Tom Harris, who made the claim saying we should buck up and smile because we’re all so wealthy now.

No word that, under his government, food bills are soaring, you need a mortgage to fill up your tank, house prices are tumbling and the pay rises of newspaper columnists have become the norm.

Families are sliding into fuel poverty. What the Dickens have we to be grumpy about? Should we really take this from an out-of-touch, here today, gone tomorrow politico who gets £91,000 a year and a second-home allowance, free travel and goodness knows what else allowing him to rake in a further £150,000?

The same day that Happy Harris was making front page headlines, some newspapers also had the results of a survey that Scottish cities were in the happiest top 10 and that Scots had finally shaken off their dour image. All except G. Brown, Esq., I think that should be.

My confusion did not lift yesterday on hearing that night visits by the tooth fairy are now worth £23.4million a year. More than 3,000 parents were quizzed for the Children’s Mutual Tooth Fairy Inflation Index. I kid you not. It says the average cost of a child’s tooth is now £1.22, up 16% on last year.

Many parents suffer from fairy pressure, it found. More than one in five think they pay too much and nearly one in six feel compelled to give their wee darlings the market rate for a tooth.

I know. I was assured the going rate was £2, but can’t remember by whom. That was how much was sneakily slipped under the pillow in this house. I have been ripped off. By a fairy.

Published in the Press and Journal on June 25, 2008

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Posted in politics, Popular culture, Stornoway, Uncategorized, Western Isles

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How I will celebrate the solstice

Posted on June 19, 2008 | 1 Comment

When I greet the sunrise early on Saturday at the Callanish Stones with my wiggle of willing wenches, I shall be undraped and unashamed, as always. I must answer the distant call of the ancients and, in the morning moistness, wash away the dustiness of two decades since I last skipped up the avenue, calling on all the sun gods.

They never answer. They must all still be asleep. It is 4am, after all. Prostrating myself in the chilly dew of the stone circle, the maidens will gather round pushing to my lips milk, honey and warm, reviving kisses. It’s a tough job but . . .

The summer solstice festival lasts just hours and holds a significance to druidic types. I am a druid. It is Gaelic for a starling and is used to belittle someone for being ridiculously small. My uncle called me a druid when I was seven after I let his tyres down. Anyone under 5ft 8in is a wee druid.

We are well and truly in the season of latter-day festivals. Celebratory traditions are being recalled for a morning, a weekend or even a week. Modern lifestyles take us so far from the pull of Mother Earth that we yearn ever more for those al fresco get-togethers where we can speak freely of peace, love and whether Tennent’s is better than Stella.Callanish Stones

Most festivals are not actually about taking your clothes off and having a yarn with the sun god Lugh. The idea nowadays is to celebrate music. Whereas we once had the Mod for that, in the last few years there have been fests at Durness, Rockness, Loopallu, Speyfest – and even Barrafest with Nolly, the Uistman from Barra, and his crew on next month’s bill.

Our own HebCeltFest is also upon us in a matter of weeks. Something Celtic for everyone, they promise, and they do deliver and a whole lot more. A fringe of superb sideshows and street entertainment, it even features, for the kids, the man in the balloon from Britain’s Got Talent.

Then if you can wait until October, there’s the Royal National Mod. This year, it descends on the diamond in the rough that is Falkirk or Spotty Church, if you literally translate its Gaelic name. The Mod provides its last chance for that settlement to redeem itself to me. Known for nothing wheely interesting, except that no one famous ever came from there, I have to say that I found it a scary place.

As young servicemen, we had to run the gauntlet of grunting knuckle-dragging Falkirkians. So manic were their growls, we had to forego our uniforms, just like the Army did in the Falls Road. I then learned that Falkirk had two mottoes, “Touch ane, touch a” and “Better meddle wi’ the de’il than the bairns o’ Fawkirk”. How cool is that? Mottoes celebrating juvenile aggression. Maybe municipal anger management is still called for.

Another big festival question is whether the Mod will happen in Caithness in 2010. Although they deny they are anti-Gaelic, there are a bunch of councillors up there who give fantastic impressions of people who are just that. These deniers claim they are only bothered about spending money on Gaelic road signs. The history books are obviously wrong. Whatever.

After all, it’s not as if Highland Council is anything like the Gaelic mafia in Stornoway. They are now erecting Gaelic signs in places which have been happily monolingual since Maciver and Dart began selling TVs. An example is Parkend. I have never heard it called by any other name in my puff. Now they have put up signs labelling it Ceann nam Buailtean. Duda?

Parkenders cannot fathom it. They have never really spoken Gaelic. Most of them struggle with English. Except Johnny Fraser, of course. As a young druid of a taxi operator, he heard passengers from Bernera in his yellow taxi muttering mysteriously in Gaelic about “am bradan”. Quickly learning the language in order to eavesdrop, Johnny discovered it meant salmon. That sparked his fascination with the king of fish. He would have it anytime. Usually lightly poached.

In Peebles, they have a wonderful-sounding festival called Dirty Weekend. I have cancelled my tickets as I have just found out it centres on nothing more thrilling than the muddiness of mountain biking. The festival with the potential for real fun and frolics will be in September next year. Alex Salmond has just ordered Barra people to hold a Whisky Galore feis.

I will suggest to Julian in the Craigard Hotel to offer free nips to anyone who has to travel more than 120 miles. That’ll stop the ever-thirsty Uibhisteachs and Hearrachs from mobbing the joint while leaving the way clear for Leodhasachs and Barrachs to boogie on down.

Party on, druids.

Published in the Press and Journal on June 18, 2008

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Posted in religion, Scotland, Stornoway, Western Isles

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People in the Western Isles deserve high fuel prices

Posted on June 16, 2008 | 1 Comment

Not only do people here deserve high fuel prices, that is what they really, really want. It is the only conclusion I can come to.

The editor of the local paper in Uist has put a petition up on the Scottish Parliament website calling on our politicians to take firmer action to get our fuel prices here under control. Otherwise, these islands are going to be cleared of people. Businesses will not come here. A place for rich southerners to retire but no businesses and no industry. And no work.

Yet the locals from the Butt of Lewis to Barra just do not care. They are not interested in signing the petition by Helen Coxshall of Am Paipear.

They simply do not care that fuel is already more than £1.40 a gallon – and rising. What is the other explanation? At the time of writing, only 744 people have bothered to sign up and show their support. And plenty of them do not even live in Scotland.

Make no mistake, we are being ripped off by our own government. Firstly, they add fuel duty. Then, as if that was not enough, they add VAT. The higher the basic price, the higher the taxes. They could reduce both these taxes if they wanted. They do it in other European countries and this government has voted for that to happen. But not for their own Scottish islands. No way. Not enough votes in that. Our politicians have raised it, of course. Briefly. Then they promptly went back to the usual phoney inter-party wars.

Government ministers will not do it out of the goodness of their hearts. Why? Because so few in the islands will even take two minutes to put their names on an online petition. Why should the government lower these taxes? No-one is creating a fuss about it. Islanders are so complacent. If this was the price in London, thousands would be protesting up and down Whitehall and blocking the gates of Downing Street. Cockney lorry drivers are already protesting – and their diesel is nothing like as expensive as here.

With an adult population of 20,000 in the Western Isles, you would think most people here would want to be associated with what this petition calls for. But no. Oh well. Sorry Helen, it must have seemed like a good idea but the people have spoken. Or, rather, they can’t be bothered to. If anyone is even remotely interested, here’s the link:

http://epetitions.scottish.parliament.uk/view_petition.asp?PetitionID=250

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Sometimes you have to take a stand – Stand up, Am Paipear

Posted on June 13, 2008 | 1 Comment

Am Pàipear, the community newspaper of the Uists in the Outer Hebrides, has launched a campaign on behalf of its readers and the wider community to demand the UK Government take action to reduce the cost of fuel in the islands.

Speaking about the paper’s campaign Editor, Helena Coxshall said: ‘We have been inundated with comments and concerns from the local community who have asked us what we are able to do to highlight the distress that high fuel prices are causing within our community.

‘Fuel prices have rocketed and our islands are suffering more than anyone. We have decided to take the issue to the government and have launched a petition to the Scottish Parliament requesting that they represent the views of not only our, but Scotland’s wider rural community.

‘Not only does the cost of fuel impact on us all here, with crofters, fishermen, business and drivers suffering, but the additional effect of a decline in tourism hits us even harder.

‘We are asking that everyone who is affected by the high cost of fuel sign our petition on the Scottish Parliament website at http://epetitions.scottish.parliament.uk/view_petition.asp?PetitionID=250 whether resident in the islands or not. If you live in the Highlands, or any other rural community, you will be among the hardest hit. If you live in our cities you will probably not be able to enjoy your own beautiful countryside and islands as holiday destinations because of the high cost of fuel. It is as beneficial to our urban communities as it is to our rural communities to ensure that the cost of fuel in the islands is not prohibitive.

‘We are not asking for any special treatment over our city neighbours: all we are asking for is that fuel in the islands doesn’t cost any more than it does on the mainland.’

The higher price of fuel in the Western Isles – where a litre of diesel has passed £1.45 at some petrol stations – means that islanders are paying more tax than anywhere else when VAT is added to the basic cost. Islanders have expressed outrage that VAT is added after fuel duty has been taken into account, effectively creating a third, hidden tax. It is believed that fuel in the Outer Hebrides is the most expensive anywhere in the world.

The newspaper’s campaign is supported by Western Isles politicians, Alasdair Allan MSP and Angus Brendan MacNeil MP. Alasdair Allan commented: ‘I would like to commend Am Pàipear for taking this step, and hope that their petition attracts signatures not just from Uist, but from around the Western Isles.

‘Angus Brendan MacNeil has been raising the issue of island fuel costs in Westminster – where the power over fuel taxes presently lies – and now, thanks to ‘Am Pàipear, we have the opportunity to formally ask Holyrood to lobby the UK government on behalf of islanders.

‘The Scottish Parliament has a unique system where any individual citizen can petition parliament to look at an issue and have their day in front of the Parliament’s Public Petitions Committee. This provides another chance for the islands to highlight the injustice of paying the highest prices in the world for fuel – in an oil producing country.’

Mr Allan recently secured a debate in the Scottish Parliament on the issue which garnered significant cross-party support.

Angus MacNeil added;

‘It is now at least 2 years since I got the famous answer from the London Treasury that they could not lower island fuel duty by 3%, as was agreed by all governments of the EU for rural France, in case people travelled from the cities to the Islands to take advantage of the concession. The Treasury was clearly massively out of touch with this part of Scotland and still is.


‘I hesitate to state the price of fuel per litre in black and white because it goes up so much and so quickly. However at over £1.40 per litre when almost 60% of that is tax is clearly far too much especially as the Chancellor will raise, according to estimates, £5-£6 billion, (that’s a £5-6 thousand million) more than he expected this year. Diesel in the Republic of Ireland, which has no oil fields as Scotland does, is £1.05 per litre, according to AA Fuel Price Reports.


‘But the overriding factor is that the Chancellor gets more tax per litre on fuel sold in the Uists, and other islands, than anywhere else in the UK and therefore, we probably pay the highest fuel taxes in the world. The Chancellor also charges VAT on his duty and VAT also goes on the increasing base price too. So a triple whammy for the Islands!


‘When I meet the Chancellor in Westminster I will be highlighting Am Pàipear’s important campaign and the real difficulty people are having with fuel prices that are 40p a litre above Irish prices.


‘Many people have contacted me with details and when it hits aspects of island life, the Chancellor will hear the message directly from me.’

Ends

More Information:

Fuel Petition Text:
Petition by Helena Coxshall calling on the Scottish Parliament to urge the Scottish Government to make representations to the UK Government about the cost of fuel in the Western Isles and other rural areas of Scotland which are now amongst the most expensive places in the world to buy petrol or diesel; to highlight in particular the refusal of the UK Government to introduce measures similar to those operating in France which reduce the tax on fuel in very remote areas; to protest at the serious consequences which high fuel prices have for fishermen, motorists and businesses in island and rural areas and to request parity with mainland city prices.

The petition is available for signing on the Scottish Parliament’s e-petition system at: http://epetitions.scottish.parliament.uk/view_petition.asp?PetitionID=250

Am Pàipear is the community newspaper of the southern isles of the Outer Hebrides and serves the communities of Berneray, North Uist, Benbecula, South Uist and Eriskay. The most widely read newspaper in the southern isles, it has been twice voted Community Newspaper of the Year and has a readership of over 5,000.

Am Pàipear is published by the Uist Council of Voluntary Organisations, the Uist branch of the CVS network.

Alasdair Allan’s motion was debated in the Scottish Parliament on Wednesday 28 May; motion S3M-1705 and is available at:

http://www.scottish.parliament.uk/business/officialReports/meetingsParliament/or-08/sor0528-02.htm#Col9062
For further information please call Helena Coxshall, Editor or Archie MacKay, Production Editor and Reporter on 01870 603299 or email [email protected]

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Posted in politics, Scotland, Stornoway, Western Isles

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The Donald’s sister is a star

Posted on June 12, 2008 | 1 Comment

Domhnall Iain Trump is a real estate titan. A bit like D J Peteranna of Uist Builders. Only bigger. He jetted into Stornoway having jigged to Bennie And The Jets at an Elton John concert just hours before. He was snuggled up in a huge double bed in his private Boeing 727 as it whooshed over the Atlantic to the Hebrides. Just like Maggie Thatcher, he needs only three or four hours sleep before he pops up again ready for another day of hiring, firing and slagging off Aberdeenshire refusenik councillor Martin Ford.

A jostle of big-name journalists and cameramen formed on the tarmac. They elbowed for position, crippling each other with tripods and heavy camera bags. Then the most recognised businessman on the planet glided down the steps from the back-end of Trump One.

Only The Donald could have the Western Isles’ top industrialist, North Tolsta whizzkid Innes Macleod, as his driver abouter. Reputedly a millionaire himself, Innes is the president of Texas-based electronic engineering outfit HDL International Inc who conducts worldwide business from the big house next to where Kenny the Barber lived on Oliver’s Brae.

I am told he is also an incurable bluenose. You would think an entrepreneur like him would be able to get tablets for poor circulation in his extremities.

But Donald always gets the top people to work for him. His butler was the mayor of Martinsburg, West Virginia. A mayor? That’s like our convener, Alex Macdonald, being hired to serve the soup in Oliver’s Brae.

The Donald’s weekends are mostly spent at his Mar-a-Lago home in Florida. It is also a private club with 58 bedrooms, 33 bathrooms, a spa, a ballroom, tennis courts, a nine-hole golf course, and a private tunnel leading to his favourite beach on the Atlantic Ocean. Hey, come to Bosta on Great Bernera, Mr T. We have a beach on the Atlantic Ocean. Just no private tunnel or tennis courts or, in fact, any of the rest. We used to have a one-hole golf course in front of our byre but that probably doesn’t count.

At the press conference, nobody except the national press wallahs cared much about the £1billion plans for the Balmedie golf resort. Trump would only harrumph: “Who? Martin Ford? Don’t know the man. I just hear he’s not very popular, that’s all.” No, the big buzz in the Woodlands Centre on Monday was whether he would say anything about saving Lews Castle, our own crumbling landmark. He’s gonna think about it and come back to us.

A mock-Tudor folly, built with the wealth of a dodgy opium king it would, consultants reckon, be just the job for a hotel and conference venue but could cost anything up to £20million to do up. The castle has a few towers so he could boast: “I have two towers in New York and four in Stornoway.” If he also snaps up the Tower Guesthouse on James Street he could have five.

The Donald’s sister is a star too. They call Maryanne Trump Barry the diva judge. You do not want to mess with her. She reminds me of the Golden Girls. Sweet as apple pie, she fondly recalled being chided with “a ghraidh” (my dear) as her grannie suggested she stop doing whatever she was doing on the Sabbath.

Don’t be fooled. Maryanne is as tough as old Arnish boots. Now a federal appeals court judge, she is a former prosecutrix. That means she was New York’s answer to David Teale, the supercool Stornoway procurator fiscal. But in a shawl. And high heels. Wow, imagine that? No, nor me.

Appointed by some white-haired guy who is married to the famous Hillary Clinton, they call Maryanne a diva because of her bench-slapping. That’s American for making mincemeat of opponents. I think I know why. She probably swears at them in Gaelic. And we all know that Tong Gaelic is a coarse, unintelligible dialect that has always baffled people in the civilised world this side of Ford Terrace in Tong.

She jumped right in there when she twigged that Domhnall Iain was being hassled by the scribblers. You could almost hear the snarl. “Mom would be proud, he’s a good boy. He’s funny too.” Coolly, calmly, she stared out the reptilian slitherers.

Her piercing don’t-even-go-there gaze made them recoil. Even the most noble among the pack, veteran scribbler Bill Lucas, belted up smartish. I heard a woman from an American paper gasping: “Oh no, Maryanne is looking this way.” It would be good to chat to Maryanne properly. I haven’t interviewed what you would call a real prima donna for ages. Not since Mary Bremner left the council anyway.

Published in the Press and Journal on June 11, 2008

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Posted in Scotland, TV, Western Isles

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May the force be with me

Posted on June 5, 2008 | Leave a comment

This is probably the last time I write here. I have decided to join the police.

On the pretence of having an open day, they summoned me to Stornoway nick for a high-level meeting. It was upstairs. A cop from Scalpay, who does the press-ganging for Northern Constabulary, persuaded me to lay down my pen and recorder for a truncheon and pepper spray. Wallop. Whoosh. I can’t wait.

From my photo, you may think I am past the first flush yet I’m in supreme condition. While telling me that anyone can join at 18, Inspector Willie “Scalpach” Maclennan winked loudly and added that there was no upper age limit. I knew exactly what was going on. Top cop Ian Latimer wanted me on the team.

“Really? No upper limit at all?” I wondered. He looked me up and down, adding: “There will be a fitness test.” He didn’t get those pips on his shoulder by being slow and he quickly deduced that my proud abdomen may look like a big belly but is actually a powerhouse of muscle, relaxed muscle. What a big asset, he must have thought.

So why now? There is talk of fuel price riots, you see. Latimer needs cool heads to prevent the Shader Red Diesel Users And Abusers Association from storming the pumps at the Welcome In in Barvas. After a couple of weeks’ intense training in Tulliallan police college, I reckon he’ll want me back to co-ordinate the operation. Too important to leave to polite skinnymalinks like Chief Inspector Philip Macrae. Seniority is so overrated.

I passed the police entrance exam – in 1977. One question stumped me. It was “Who wrote the opera Pirates of Penzance?” Afterwards, the sergeant asked: “How did you get on, lad?” “Tricky pirates question,” I said. He goes: “I’m sure a bright spark like you knew it was Gilbert and Sullivan.” I said: “Didn’t they do Ooh Wakka Doo Wakka Day?”

Suddenly I yelled: “There’s a disturbance out there.” Whereupon the sergeant immediately exited the room and proceeded in a westerly direction to the front desk, giving me just enough time to retrieve my paper and insert his answer. Thick but cunning, that’s me. I would be ideal for CID.

Only a technicality stopped me joining up back then; my bum was technically too close to the pavement. But the Scalpach insists there is no height restriction now. Even a rookie gets £21,000 a year. That’s fantastic money for an 18-year-old – especially for someone unlikely to squander it on the mind-altering substances on offer in most pub toilets from Invershneckie to Lovely Stornoway.

And the salary goes up loads every year. So I am going to ask for mine to be sort of backdated to include every increase since I sat that entrance exam back then. I’ll hound the drunk drivers in lawless dives like Garynamonie and Garynahine for wonga like that. Not only am I confident of being accepted but also I’m very sure of being fast-tracked for meteoric promotion. When Ian Latimer realises that I could go back to writing about him in the P&J, he’ll make sure I go to the very top.

Me in a hat with scrambled egg on it. I can see it now. I’ll move force headquarters from Perth Road to the Barvas Moor. It will have an overhead watchroom to intimidate law-breaking Westsiders, which are all of them. I’ll bring in daily breathalyser tests for all drivers in the Free Church (Continuing). Well, they’re all on something. I shall also test the emissions from all Galson Motors buses daily – and from the councillor who runs them.

In fact, I will harass every councillor. The parent councils of all the schools earmarked for closure will help me with that, I suspect. No cost to the taxpayer.

Did I mention that another potential employer is coming to see me on Monday? Donald Trump has a record of getting the best people. I can see me in the Trump World Tower bawling out my posse of gorgeous, pouting secretaries – just like Sybil at the council here. “Get me Heimer in Great Falls, Montana. Get me Buck in Great Bend, Kansas. Get me Auntie Kirsty Ann in Great Bernera, Uig.”

Career choices, they say, are our most important. One thing is sure; Ian Latimer’s package is going to have to be a good one. Because I know The Donald’s cousins, Calum and Willie Murray in Tong.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I was writing to you next week – from the 27th floor of a skyscraper. Just imagine; Calum and Willie and me looking down over United Nations Plaza in downtown New York, a low-flier in each hand. Just like being in the Crow’s Nest in the Legion.

Published in the Press and Journal on June 4, 2008

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