Find out why hypocrisy is leaving a bad taste in oor Ron’s mouth this week.
IT’LL come as nae major shock tae the poor sowls who read this column every week that there are actually some things that get right oan mah wick...
In fact, yon programme Room 101, where celebs consign their pet hates tae an imaginary dungeon, wid have tae be extended frae hauf an hour tae a fortnight-lang telly marathon tae sate mah ain personal Scunner List.
Wan doon the lower scale o’ yon is the recent habit o’ onywan being asked a question oan the telly beginning their reply wae the word “So”.
Ah neither know nor care where this habit sprung frae but ah wish they’d cut it oot; it sounds like the kinda way a heavily hungover primary school teacher o’ a particularly thick class o’ weans wid kick aff an explanation tae them o’ the laws of quantum physics.
Still, there are, of course, much, much wairse things in this world tae trouble baith you and me but ah reckon the current fashion for gross, barefaced hypocrisy by oor politicians tops mah ain current list o’ major irritants.
Now, no’ having just come doon the Clyde in a banana boat, ah can tell the difference between coincidences and deliberate acts.
Ah suppose the mair naive amang us might just accept as a pure accident o’ history that the major kickin’ oor esteemed members o’ parliament got in the press a few years back ower their fraudulent expenses claims was very, very quickly followed by an ootburst o’ righteous fury by yon same MPs over the phone-tapping scandal, allegedly by certain members o’ the London meedja.
Now, as we’re in whit the legal eagles cry sub-judice territory here, ah’ll ca’ canny wae mah following observation but it comes doon tae applying some sorta sense o’ proportion tae this largely manufactured bluster-orgy.
Ah suppose aboot ninety per cent o’ folk reading this will instantly recognise the name Rebekah Brooks, the former high heidjin at the News o’ the World accused o’ condoning the tapping o’ the mobile phone o’ murder victim Milly Dowler.
How many o’ us, however, can name aff the top of oor heids, the person who was convicted of murdering Milly?
Weel, just for the record, he’s called Levi Bellfield and, yes, I had tae look it up mahsel’ tae remind me o’ his name.
Then we have the amazing sudden burst o’ zeal by oor politicos tae investigate oor corruption-ridden polis force.
This, again I’m certain by pure chance, came immediately efter a top government meenister was accused by some London rozzers o’ calling them ‘‘plebs”.
Now, as we weel ken, we live in a fair and equal democracy, wae nae special favours granted tae the rich and powerfu’ and so I am perfectly certain that, should you or I ever be falsely accused o’ something by the polis, the government wid lavish hunners of thoosands o’ pounds o’ public money oan clearing oor names. Aye, right...
Whit stunned me was the sudden fall frae grace o’ oor polis force which, ah recall, was hailed as “the finest in the world” by every politician after a quick, popular soundbite right up until the second wan o’ their ain was troubled by the Old Bill.
And mind how the politicians hit a new low, trying tae hijack Remembrance for their ain ends?
Mind you, ah got a wake-up call last week aboot how distant in history the events we annually Remember are now becoming tae oor younger generations.
Ah was in an Embra pub wae the Scotland v Japan rugby match oan the telly when a hame score was greeted by a young guy wae a mighty roar o’: “THAT wan’s for mah granpaw!”
When ah inquired if his grandfaither had been a POW o’ the Japanese, he looked at me as if ah was daft and replied: “Naw. But he had this REALLY naff Nissan wance.”