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(6) Issue 76, March 2007 - Chic Murray


I met this chap at the Olympics. I said to him, "Excuse me but are you a pole vaulter?", he replied,"No, I'm German, but how did you know my name was Walter."

I was in London the other day and this man came up to me and asked me if I knew the Battersea dog's home. I said that I didn't know it had been away.

This chap said to me, "If you look over there, you'll see Dumbarton Rock". Well, I looked for 20 minutes and the thing never moved an inch.

"This friend of mine had a terrible upbringing. I asked him once what his ambition was and he replied it was to have an ambition. In the end tragedy struck - as he lay on his death bed he confessed to three murders. Then he got better"

I went to the butchers to buy a leg of lamb. 'Is it Scotch?' I asked. 'Why?' the butcher asked. 'Are you going to talk to it or eat it?' 'In that case, have you got any wild duck?' 'No,' he said, 'but I've got one I could aggravate for you.'

What use is happiness? It can't buy you money.

"I rang the bell of a small bed-and breakfast place, whereupon a lady appeared at an outside window. "What do you want?" she asked. "I want to stay here," I replied. "Well, stay there then," she said and banged the window shut.

"My wife went to a beauty parlour and got a mud pack. For two days she looked nice, then the mud fell off. She's a classy girl though, at least all her tattoos are spelt right."

"There are only two rules for drinking whisky. First, never take whisky without water, and second, never take water without whisky."

It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to have to paint it.

"My father was an Aberdonian and a more generous man you couldn't wish to meet. I have a gold watch that belonged to my father, he sold it to me on his death bed.…… I wrote him a cheque".

"So there I was lying in the gutter. A man stopped and asked 'What's the matter? Did you fall over?' So I said 'No. I've a bar of toffee in my back pocket and I was just trying to break it."

"So I gave him a wave. Actually, it was more of a half wave, because I only half know him."

"He started talking to me about this and that - about which I know very little."

The police stopped me when I was out in my car. They told me it was a spot check. I admitted to two pimples and a boil.

I admit to spending a fortune on women, booze and gambling. The rest I spend foolishly.

It was raining cats and dogs and I fell in a poodle.

I made a stupid mistake last week. Come to think of it, did you ever hear of someone making a clever mistake?

I met this cowboy with a brown paper hat, paper waistcoat and paper trousers. He was wanted for rustling.

If something's neither here nor there, where the hell is it?

My father was a simple man. My mother was a simple woman. You see the result standing in front of you, a simpleton.

I had a tragic childhood. My parents never understood me. They were Japanese.

I won't say I was slow developer, but our teacher was quite pleased to have someone her own age in the class to talk to.

If it weren't for marriage, husband and wives would have to fight with strangers.

After I told my wife that black underwear turned me on, she didn't wash my Y-fronts for a month.

Kippers- fish that like a lot of sleep.

The boat was so old; it must have been launched when Long John Silver had two legs and an egg on his shoulder.

It was a pretty posh place. They were so used to fur coats that two bears strolled in and ordered lunch and nobody even noticed.

I felt as out of place as a left-handed violinist in a crowded string section.

Get into yourself to get yourself out of your self. Then try to lose yourself.

I drew a gun. He drew a gun. I drew another gun. Soon we were surrounded by lovely drawings of guns.

We've got stained glass windows in our house. It's those damned pigeons.

You know what they say about stamp collecting. Philately will get you nowhere.

There's a new slimming course just out where they remove all your bones. Not only do you weigh less, but you also look so much more relaxed.

I first met my wife in the tunnel of love. She was digging it at the time.

I dreamt I was forced to eat 25lbs of marshmallows. When I woke up, my pillow was missing.

My girlfriends a redhead, no hair, just a red head.

A neighbour put his budgerigar in the mincing machine and invented shredded tweet.

My parents were wonderful, always there with a ready compromise. My sister wanted a cat for a pet I wanted a dog, so they bought a cat and taught it to bark.

I got up this morning. I like to get up in the morning; it gives me the rest of the day to myself. I crossed the landing and went down stairs. Mind you, if there had been no stairs, I wouldn't even have attempted it.

We were so poor; the ultimate luxury in our house at the time was ashtrays without advertisements. It was all the wolf could do to keep us away from his door. A luxury meal was prairie sandwiches- two slices of bread with wide-open spaces between them. There were so many holes in my socks I could put them on seventeen different ways.

She had been married so often she bought a drip-dry wedding dress.

This friend of mine had a terrible upbringing. When his mother lifted him up to feed him, his father rented the pram out. Then when they came into money later, his mother hired a woman to push the pram - and he's been pushed for money ever since.

A Scot is a man who keeps the Sabbath, and everything else he can lay his hands on.

(9) Issue 75, December 2006 - The Panto Crinoline

The Panto Crinoline

by Beryl Beattie

Once upon a time there was a grand pantomime filled with wonderful characters and dancers and magic. There were costumes worn by the fairy tale people, including perhaps one of the most important, the Queen of Hearts. She wore a huge crinoline, which is to say a long dress with a petticoat stiffened at the bottom by a hoop of fine metal sewn into the fabric. This made the dress stick out like a meringue. The top was made of the finest velvet with a pointed bodice which fitted snugly into the tiny waist of whomsoever wore it. The cream sleeves were puffed at the shoulders and then narrowed into velvet at the wrists. There were bands of the brightest red, ribbons to decorate the sleeves. The skirt itself was of the most beautiful sky blue satin and at the foot, there was a pattern of dots and crosses in red and cream. The final touch was a silk apron which was decorated with pale blue designs to match the edge of the dress. It was said that whoever wore this dress felt like a real queen. And certainly the Crinoline knew she was very important because when she went on stage each performance, the audience all applauded. She was the happiest crinoline in the world.

The years went by and all of a sudden the fashions changed and poor Crinoline was no longer chosen from the long line of costumes in the theatrical store. She was passed by. She was ignored. She was, dare one say, unwanted. Then one day some people came by and asked if they might borrow some costumes for the famous festival cavalcade parade. To her delight, crinoline was immediately selected and luckily did not hear the owners mention she was of no further use and the new owner could keep her. Oh my, how she rejoiced when she heard the cheers from the crowds as she swept along the main street. Once again she was happier than ever.

More years went past and the once vibrant satin began to look a little dull and there were signs of wear and tear at the hem of the dress. The owner was no longer involved in the festival parade and so Crinoline was carefully hung up in a wardrobe which she had to share with a pretend fur coat, some evening dresses and a man’s evening suit. Who knows what tales they all told each other when the wardrobe door slid shut. But for once Crinoline was silent. She knew they all were modern and would be taken out and worn again. Alas, there would be no more occasions for her to be seen. Then one day the door slid open and the owner took Crinoline out and brought her downstairs. To her delight, she was laid carefully on to the ironing table and her huge skirt carefully ironed. The apron was next. Oh how happy Crinoline was. How she loved the way the iron tickled her fabric and freshened up all the creases so that she knew she looked young once again. It turned out that the owner had offered the use of Crinoline to a lady who was to take part in a charity event selling raffle tickets to help children. But oh dear, who could possibly have anticipated the reaction Crinoline would receive when she was carefully presented to the lady. "Would you wear that?" asked someone in a most disparaging manner. The owner suggested the lady try on Crinoline. But to her dismay, the feisty female refused to remove a black tee shirt which would have completely spoiled the look of the velvet top. Instead of admiring her, they looked down their noses as if she were ugly. Crinoline shivered in fear. How could anyone dare to spoil her beautiful design? The owner luckily agreed with that sentiment and said: " It is quite all right. You cannot spoil the look of this beautiful costume, so there is no need for you to wear it, thank you." Crinoline sighed in relief as she was carefully put back on the hanger and returned to the car. But once alone, she wept her heart out.

Maybe in the harsh light of the large supermarket she did look a little bit worn but that was only at the hemline. She was sure she had seen several little girls look in curiosity at her, now here she was, unwanted and not apparently good enough to be seen in modest surroundings far away from the fabulous pantomimes and parades she had been so used to starring in. She cried herself to sleep. It is a dreadful thing if you feel unwanted and unloved. Crinoline knew that feeling for the first time. But she was unaware that the owner had secretly been very annoyed at the reaction to Crinoline from people who, if the truth be known, were just a tiny bit ignorant and could not appreciate beauty. Soon she was safely home and back in the wardrobe and when the other clothes asked how the big event had gone, because she always told the truth, she confided it had been a disaster. The pretend fur coat put her arm round crinoline’s velvet shoulders and the man’s evening suit squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Never mind, Crinoline, we think you are the most beautiful crinoline in the world," they told her. "Oh, it is so good to be home," she told them gratefully. But even they could never guess how hurt and disappointed she had been.

Christmas was coming. In the shops toys and decorations had begun to appear. The panto rehearsals were in full swing. There was a promise of snow and rosy cheeked children were busy writing letters to Father Christmas who had arrived at the shops. The owner had heard about a group of people who used to be in the theatre who loved to stage exhibitions of a very important nature. One such extremely important display was to take place in a magnificent concert hall which boasted its very own art gallery and restaurant. And so it came to pass that Crinoline was offered as a prize exhibition in the very next show. The offer was gratefully accepted and the day came when once again the wardrobe door slid open and the owner carefully took out Crinoline and transported her to the gallery. Now Crinoline had no idea what was happening. The owner had simply told her it was to be a surprise. A very nice surprise. A beautiful mannequin was set up in the corner of the huge gallery amongst the old play bills which advertised the shows and the stars taking part. There were old photographs of famous artistes and shows taken long before digital cameras were even thought of. Even before there were colour photographs. Crinoline was placed carefully on the mannequin who looked almost alive and was the perfect size for the dress. Somebody had cleverly placed theatrical spot lights at the foot of the model so that the blue satin once again shone brightly and the bodice revealed the true beauty of the velvet and the cream silk looked crisp and fresh.

At last Crinoline was back in the spotlight. Even the red ribbons on the sleeves spread themselves evenly over the silk and velvet. Crinoline’s appearance was an instant success. People came past and gently touched the fabric, noting the workmanship and the design. "My, they don’t make costumes like this any more, " they praised. Crinoline was so happy. They were admiring her beauty and seeing her as she was in her days of glory and pantomime. The owner smiled to herself. The magic of King Panto had once again woven its spell. As for Crinoline, well this was the best ever Christmas present. Whisper it, but even Father Christmas agreed.

(10) Issue 75, December 2006 - Over the Sea to Pantomime


By Ray Smith 

Oh no! Not another nostalgic article aboot Scottish Panto, I hear you gasp. Well, I had to write this article as an educational piece back in the 70s. That was the first time in the history of Canadian theatre, that a genuine UK pantomime was staged and toured across the land.

The show was Cinderella. Now you'd think that even the most backwoodsian of Canadian Lumberjacks would have known the story of Cinders. And indeed they did. But definitely NOT in the context of a stage pantomime which was hardly Walt Disney. So for the hundreds of French-Canadian lumberjacks NOT born and raised with the Scottish panto tradition, this is how I explained what Lionel Blair as Billy Buttons and that wee stoater Fiona Kennedy, in the title role, were getting up to on the mighty stage of Ottawa's 3,000 seater National Arts Centre.

'The word pantomime will signify a typically French form of entertainment. Usually it’s a silent mime performed in classic Continental tradition by that brilliant wee Frenchman, Marcel Marceau. He wore a skintight leotard, a bowler hat and highly exaggerated clown makeup on his face. He went through one hilarious comedy turn after another. It was a throwback to the days of Charlie Chaplin and silent movies like the Gold Rush. The laugher and the pathos were created entirely by arm, leg, face and body movements. Not a single word was spoken. Aye lads, it was exactly how you wanted your mother-in-law to behave, especially when you were being nagged tae death! There was nothing common about the French form of pantomime. It could easily be described as ethereal, ephemeral and esoteric. (That explains why Monsieur Marceau sold Chamber’s dictionaries at every performance-well it would be easier than selling Chamber’s pots!!).

On the other hand, the traditional Scottish Pantomime is a horse of a very different race! Its detractors might use slightly less hoi polloi adjectives such as lewd, rude and crude. But that’s unfair. A Scottish Panto is a boisterous traditional (or contemporary) fairy story converted into a musical variety show for family audiences. It will be splendidly costumed and feature fantastic scenery and effects.

Look for outrageous 'drawers-drooping' comedy and dreadful cross talk between the comedians: Father: son who is the laziest boy in your class?: "Faither, I huv nae idea" "Well when you are busy writing your assignments who just sits watching you instead of working?" "Och that’s easy faither-it’s oor Teacher!(Oh the size of it!). Join the singalongs in which a gigantic song sheet flies down to fill the entire stage proscenium opening, while children of all ages bawl out such choruses as ‘Gilly Gilly Ossenfeffer Katzen-ellen bogan by the sea" Och that sort of dates me doesn’t it hen? . These days Top 20 pop songs from rap to reggae have replaced "There’s A Tiny House’ Ítsy bitsy Spider’ or Three little fishies and a mammy fishy too" The story line or plot is as thin as ever.

Such classic tales as Cinderella, Robin Hood, Mother Goose and Aladdin have become loosely followed 'coat-hanger' stories around which are featured the comedians, rock singers and TV soap opera stars who participate in this 'lucrative' wee earner. Over the years Scottish audiences have turned out in their thousands to enjoy such home grown panto’s as Goosie Goosie Glasgow and A Wish For Jamie. While some might consider the French mime to be a unique form of entertainment, nothing could be more unique than the Scottish panto. It’s the only type of family entertainment on earth, in which men play women and women play men. Traditionally the Panto Principal Boy is really a principal girl. A leggy woman in leotards plays such male hero characters as Robin Hood, Aladdin and Robinson Crusoe. The Scottish singer Fay Lenore was one of our best-loved Principal Boys. Meanwhile Aladdin’s mither, the Widow Twanky, is portrayed as a 'grotesque dame' by the male comedian.

Over the years, Scotland has produced some brilliant panto Dames, as enacted by such stars as Jimmy Logan, Duncan McRae, Harry Gordon, Stanley Baxter and of course Johnny Beattie The Panto Dame is quite different from the female impersonator or drag act. The Panto Dame is an outrageous, larger than life character, a deliberately grotesque 'man in skirts' whose underlay of masculinity including a 'cod' woman's voice and 'bursting balloon bosoms' adds to the laughter. The closest example of a grotesque panto dame seen regularly on TV talk shows around the world is the outrageous Dame Edna, depicted by actor Barry Humphries. John Inman, long pensioned off from Grace Brothers Department Store on TV's Are You Being Served? is currently one of the most popular grotesque Dames in contemporary Panto.

When I complimented the late Rikki Fulton(Francie and Josie/ Rev. IM Jolly) on his excellent female nurse and nanny characters, he pointed out that the secret of making this sort of role funny was to ensure that it was always larger than life. Said Rikki,’I always tried to create a particularly masculine type of Dame. The children knew it was a man in skirts and laughed even louder because of it! Had I tried to exactly replicate a vampy woman in the Danny La Rue style, it wouldn’t have worked in Panto’ Some people suggest that the most famous Dame in pantomime history was likely Arthur Lucan who made a lifetime career out of portraying the dirty, bedraggled, Irish washer woman known to millions of 1950’s movie fans as Old Mother Riley. Nobody could possibly mistake the 'typical Irish' washer wifie for a 'real' lady. It was as if Arthur Lucan took the Widow Twankee in Christmas Panto and turned it into a lifelong year round career! But life in the Riley household got even stranger. When Old Mother Riley starred in Panto, the Principal Boy was played by his on stage daughter Miss Kitty McShane, who in real life was Old Mother Riley’s wife!

The origins of Panto cross dressing go back in time to Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. Women were not allowed on stage and so pre-pubescent boys played the female roles. But I think the origins of Scottish panto were somewhat different. After his tragic defeat at Culloden Moor, Bonnie Prince Charlie had to flee the pursuing Redcoat Armies. Dressed as his maidservant Flora MacDonald, the young pretender rowed over the sea to Skye. That’s one version of history. But another version suggests that Bonnie Prince Charlie rowed to Skye, not to get away from the English, but to star in panto, at the Palace Theatre, Portree. So popular was Charlie as The Widow Flora, that the people of Skye composed an anthem in his honour-Will Ye No Come Back Again? (Aye, Charlie, to star in next years panto!)

Men dressed as women, women dressed as men, husbands playing mothers, wives playing daughters, princes dressed as princesses, understudy drag queens doing impersonations of other drag queens, an aging Irish washerwoman colleen who was really a pipe puffing old codger in baggy troosers, and the inevitable question asked by the Fairy Queen in every panto I have ever attended," Children, do YOU believe in Fairies?" All this and more, belongs to the eccentric but very real world of Scottish Pantomime.And with that simple, historically accurate explanation, I rest ma case!