Talking Point, with Ron Harris

Find out what our chief reporter has to say about life this week!

A MAJOR stushie threatened in the queue at a certain filling station in Lanark.

The pal in the car behind me leaned oot his windae and shouted: “Ron, ye eedjit, get oot the way and let me through!”

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I retorted: “Look, I’m panicking here. I HAVE tae get this thing filled wae petrol before they run oot.”

Mah pal sighed deeply before wearily replying: “Ron; you dinnae drive. You dinnae even HAVE a car. You’re just staunin’ there wae an empty ginger bottle haudin’ us all up, Away hame and calm doon.”

Y’see, this is the kinda mad thing that happens in a country where the public’s trust o’ its politicians is at sich a low level that ONYTHING they say is immediately disbelieved.

So, when a government meenister declares: “Don’t worry. There’s no need to panic,” everywan instantly loses the heid and starts stampeding for the emergency exits, trampling wummen and children underfoot.

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It just reminded me of the day afore Lanimers every year when a breid riot breaks oot in every grocery shop in toon and little auld ladies get mugged for a small pan loaf in the close coming frae Tesco’s.

Of course, three days after Lanimers, three-quarters o’ all yon panic-bought loafs have tae be chucked oot, unused and stale. It’s a wunner tae me why the seagulls and craws aroond here arenae the size o’ Golden Eagles.

Onyway, there was another aspect tae the whole stramash last week which just confirmed mah already firm belief that some folk live oan a different planet frae the rest o’ us.

There was a definite other-worldly feel aboot the aforementioned government meenister’s sage advice tae fill up a jerry can wae petrol and keep it in your garage tae foil the evil strikers (IF they eventually actually ever go oot on strike, that is).

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The assumption was that all drivers owned garages and also served in World War Two and so knew whit a jerry can actually was.

Ah almost expected him tae explain his personal anxiety ower running oot o’ petrol by adding: “I mean, do you KNOW how few miles to the gallon you get from a Rolls-Royce or Bentley? And the wife’s Range Rover is even WORSE!”

Ah suspect he belongs tae the same cosseted breed who produce yon adverts for the telly wae insanely optimistic views o’ oor modern NHS.

It’s they ads for patent home medicines which often end wae the tag `Have a conversation with your doctor.’

Conversation wae your doctor!

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Ah mean, have they admen tried getting an appointment wae a doctor recently, never mind dropping intae their surgery for a nice wee casual chat ower a cup o’ tea and a biscuit aboot yon worrying wee rash you’ve developed!

Get real.

Onway, wan interesting fact that emerged frae last week’s ongauns was that the panic buying sparked by yon daft government meenister meant the Exchequer made £32 million mair frae petrol duty per day than it expected.

It’ll no’ take lang for oor wily First Meenister tae latch onto yon money-making idea.

Ah fully expect President Eck tae tell the Scottish Parliament: “Now, ah dinnae want to worry anywan – but yon whisky distillery workers are starting tae get awfy Bolshie.”

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