So it’s that time of the year. The time when grown men get to act out their 70’s porn star look. It’s Movember!! I know the beardy mob get a hard time, but I can see why they grow them. They might not have a chin, or maybe a big mars bar on their face, or just no personality. All good reasons to grow facial hair, but the moustache? I see a guy with a moustache outside November,and I immediatly think Question marks!! Who is this tool?
I have to put my hands up here and admit that I once sported a moustache. It was back in 1994. I had been sent to the jail for the first time. Obviously I was a bit nervous, so I thought growing a tash would not only make me look older, but also less attractive to my fellow inmates. How wrong was I! Turns out I look sexy as fuck with a moustache. The memories of those 3 months still haunt me,and to this day I only use liquid soap…
I was gigging up Aberdeen last weekend. This gave me the opportunity while I was up that way, to climb a couple of Munro’s ( big hills) I’ve climbed 98, so I wanted to do 2, to get to the 100 mark. I find it quite therapeutic when I’m up the hills. I get time to come up with material that I hope will make people laugh.
I could wax lyrically about the wonderful mountains, the amazing scenery and the feeling of being at one with myself, but that’s not the memory I have of the day’s walk.
In all the time I have been doing the hills, I have seen loads of great wildlife. Wild Hares in their winter coats, rutting Stags clashing during mating season, and a wee mouse thing that shat itself when my dog almost stood in it. I’ve never though, seen a Golden Eagle. Sometimes I’ve thought I seen one, but the distance it was, meant it might have been a Buzzard.
On Saturday I did see one though. This majestic king of the sky, soaring above me, surveying its territory. Oblivious to the walker beneath him.
Now you might think that this was a special moment for me, but not on this occasion.
I was watching the Eagle from behind a rock, which was why it never spied me. The reason I was behind the rock was I doing a shite.
My bed and breakfast I stayed in, had a shared toilet, and I wasn’t going to be the “smelly cunt fae Glesga” that stunk the toilet out (I might have to go back there, when my successful Scottish tour includes Forfar) So for this reason, I hadn’t done my normal morning business( shite).
So I’m in the wilds of the mountains, needing a shite. No big deal you think? Maybe so, but even out in the wilderness, you still get a bit para that someone will see you. A mountain rescue team out practicing, a laird of the estate, swanning about like a dick, or worse, a group of hill walkers like myself. Picture that scene…”hi ya! Just oot walking eh?”
It’s the feeling of vulnerability.
See that’s the thing about doing a shite. No matter who you are, what position in life you have, when you do a shite…you are vulnerable.
So I’m there behind the rock watching the Eagle, but I don’t feel good about it. I’m embarrassed.
I know I’m seeing something special, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m even thinking ” what if that Eagle spies me with it’s wee Eagle eyes?”
I know the Eagle hasn’t the cognitive skills to be thinking ” fuck sakes, check that baldy fucker dain a shite behind that rock! Whit a brass kneck” ( Scottish Eagle) but I still can’t enjoy what should have been a magical moment.
Golden Eagle flying above my rock
I’d like to finish off by saying no cunt likes a whistler. No matter how good you think you can whistle, it annoys every fucker around you. So please stop