'Snowspotting' by Irving Wailsh

Written by matwil

Thursday, 31 December 2009

image for 'Snowspotting' by Irving Wailsh
The Duke of Edimbourg

As darkness fell on the Edinburgh port of Leith, Begbie wondered why he had a name no-one has ever heard of in Scotland's capital city, and went along to his friend the Mother Superior's flat near Summer Road. 'Oi, Mother Superior!', he shouted up at that heroin dealer's window, 'git yer arse out of bed, ya lazy shite, I need some kit!' But there was no answer, and all of sudden Begbie saw a snowflake come down and land on an unconscious alcoholic that was sleeping it off lying on the road.

'Snow!', he gasped in horror, 'crystalised white water! What am I gonnae do!', and other pedestrians in the area began running to take cover, some of them panicking. He quickly went into the nearby Junkie Arms, which was already filling up with fleeing people asking for glasses of water as an excuse to be in the bar without buying anything. But the manager recognised him and silently pointed to the door, and soon he was back out in the now heavy snow falling.

As BBC news teams raced across Scotland to film the cataclysmic scene of snow falling on the city of Edinburgh, newspaper journalists were already composing articles about 'Snow Shock Horror! In Scotland In December!' and 'Disaster! What Can We Do? Elton John contacted to write charity record for thousands of snow victims!'

Soon television and radio news was full of features about the shocking situation, American President Barack McBama was said to be 'horrified by such an evil and racist white attack', Alex Salmon was waffling bland pish about nationalism and budgets and giving out every Scot a free paper hat, and Susan Boyle appeared in this sentence because it's a cheap way of getting people to read this article.

Begbie meanwhile was arrested by the Leith Police for being snowed on without a licence, and they didn't dismisseth him but throweth him into the cells for the night. The Mother Superior woke up the next day with bad withdrawal symptoms from having such a long habit. Elton John was persuaded not to bring out another charity song, by a United Nations threat to drop a 10 megaton nuclear bomb on him.

Though the BBC will try and justify its feeble existence with endless mentions of quite normal and trivial weather for winter in the far North-West of Europe as 'news' for the next 3 months.

[Cue 'Lust for Slush' by Iggy Snowdust and the Snowmen from Mars:

'Here come Jim and Kenny Mackie again
With their liquor and their stash of drugs
Plus a nice new shiny steel black snow machine
Though it won't get rid of those black bugs

Where did you get that useless weather forecast, man?
I've been freezing in this blasted snow
Council never gritted any roads today
If only to south Spain I could now go

Well, I'm just a dull Scottish writing guy
Hating Christmas, wishing it was banned
You'd never know Her Madge is half a Scottish mum
Though I've often seen her daughter Anne

And it's a lust for slush
A lust for slush
Lust for slush
A lust for slush

I'm worth nothing at the annual Booker prize
With my feeble spoofing articles
I can't be bothered driving any cars no more
I can't stand men that wear sad uniforms

I'm now worth something to my first ex wife
Hope she doesn't find out that I write
My second wife died to get away from me
I must have been a pretty nasty shite

Well, I'm just a morose drinking dour-faced Scot
Sick of snow, and the BBC
If they say once more how bad the weather is
I'm going to take a plane to Italy

And it's a lust for slush
A lust for slush
Lust for slush
Lust for slush

It starts getting dark at 3 in this cold dump
Think it's 1 or 2 in the Shetlands
Fifty-six degrees North and not much sun now
Would be warmer living in Iceland

Saw a man was wearing summer shorts today
Although it's nearly minus 9 or 10
A mum was in a t-shirt in the falling snow
A challenge to all Scots as macho men

Well, I'm just a moody, bland dull Scottish man
Earning lots of money writing pish
The only thing that seems a little positive
Is that at least I'm not a dull English

And it's a lust for slush
A lust for slush
Lust for slush
A lust for slush

And it's a lust for slush
A lust for slush
Lust for slush
Lust for slush

(words by Iggy Snowdust; music by Frosty Jack McHack; strings played with by My Cat; produced by A Scott; Leith attacked by Led Zeppelin airships; Irving Wailsh's house never anywhere near where he claimed in his book)]

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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