Quintin Jardine's blog

You think British football referees can be a bit on the silly side sometimes? Take a look at this from America’s so-called ‘Major League Soccer’.

http://www.metro.co.uk/sport/oddballs/867034-thierry-henry-sent-off-for-violent-conduct-head-tap-on-adam-moffat#ixzz1PvJERB59

Three Irishmen are sitting in the pub window seat, watching the front door of the house of ill repute over the road. The local Methodist pastor appears, and quickly goes inside.

“Would you look at that!” says the first Irishman. “Didn’t I always say what a bunch of hypocrites they are?”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than a Rabbi appears at the door, knocks, and goes inside.

“Another one trying to fool everyone with pious preaching and stupid hats!” says the second Irishman.

They continue drinking their beer roundly condemning the vicar and the rabbi when they see their own Catholic priest knock on the door.

“Ah, now dat’s sad.” says the third Irishman. “One of the girls must have died.”

I am sleep deprived, thanks to Rory. I had meant only to check on his progress when I switched on the computer, but wound up staying to the bitter end. The power shift in world golf has never been better defined than by the sight if Robert Garrigus, fist-pumping as if he was Tiger Woods, after finishing tied as leading American, even though he was ten shots behind the winner. There’s a wonderful little piece of video showing on BBC at the moment, featuring a nine-year-old Rors, hitting ball after ball. The remarkable thing to any golfer, apart from his precocity, is that his swing has barely changed since then.

He may never win another golf tournament, but even if he doesn’t, his agent could name his own price for the movie rights to his life story. You couldn’t make that up. I don’t know whether I was more pleased for him or for his Dad when it was all over.

Thanks for those memories. You would find much of Gullane and North Berwick as they were when you left, but there is less milk delivered now; George the Milkman was a hard act to follow.

Imagine Alastair Campbell was a lady, and take it from there.

There is an old Scottish saying: ‘See him? He’d wish a humph on you.’ I’m afraid I did that to Rory McIlroy last night. Having kept an eye on his progress on line, I switched on to catch his closing hole, with him standing at 13 under and not having dropped a shot in 35 holes. No sooner had I tuned in than he dumped his approach to the last in the water and took a double bogey. (For non-golfers that will sound as if he had a head cold.) Nonetheless he stands nine shots clear of everyone in the field save for the very persistent Y E Yang of Korea.

This morning I read a fulsome piece in  the Daily Torygraph about the young Irishman. While I am a great fan of the lad, I wish that the writer had remembered three key facts before completing his paean: 1) they do not carve the winner’s name on the trophy until four rounds have been completed, 2) in his career to date, for all his high world ranking, young Rors has won only two events, no more than the young Italian Mateo Mannassero, who has only just turned 18, and 3) Y E Yang is the only man ever to have won a major in which Tiger Woods was the leader after three rounds.

I hope the kid has the bottle to bring this one home, but he’s not going to be helped by such ill-considered and premature tributes, especially after what happened at Augusta.

Thanks for your frankness; balance is always good, and I appreciate your perseverance. Yes, there will be more Skinners. Next year’s is already done and more or less dusted and the two after that are in my head. Look out for the next Primavera, As Easy as Murder, in January.

So Bob has sneaked out from behind the shadow of old John? Whatever, welcome to the club. I envy your location in Western Canada, as you’ll realise if you follow my Afterword blogs  in this week’s National Post. I wish I had time to see more of it.

Thanks for that. I’m very pleased by the response to  The Loner. I have faith in it and in the characters. It was meant to be a one-off, yes, but Xavi’s stuck in my head and he won’t go away. I may need to find him another outlet, though.

Will Skinner go back in time again? It’s a possibility, but before he does, he has problems in the present day that need some serious sorting out.

My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you believe that – 2:30am?!

Luckily for him I was still up playing my Bagpipes.

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I sat on the train this morning opposite a stunning Thai girl.

I kept thinking to myself, please don’t get an erection, please don’t get an erection… but she did.

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Did you hear about the fat alcoholic transvestite?

All he wanted to do was eat, drink and be Mary.

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Paddy says “Mick, I’m thinking of buying a Labrador .”

“Blow that” says Mick – “have you seen how many of their owners go blind”

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My girlfriend thinks that I’m a stalker.

Well, she’s not exactly my girlfriend yet.

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I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at the foot of my bed.

At first I was afraid…….then I was petrified.

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What’s the difference between Iron Man and Iron Woman?

One’s a superhero and the other is an instruction.

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I was explaining to my husband last night that when you die you get reincarnated but must come back as a different creature.

He said “I would like to come back as a pig.”

I said “You’re obviously not listening.”

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Doctors have just identified a food that can cause grief and suffering years after it’s been eaten.

It’s called a wedding cake.

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I was in the pub with my wife last night and I said “I love you.” She said “Is that you or the beer talking?”

I replied “It’s me talking to the beer.”

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The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the worst.

So I have been down to Red Cross to get all her clothes back.

Good to hear that the lad is raising his game. I will pass that on to his uncle (not dad). Look after yourself.

A couple of days ago, I used the NCP Castle Terrace Park, in Edinburgh. Some changes since my last visit. No more tickets; now you collect a plastic chip, so you have no visible evidence of the time you checked in. There are no signs advising users of charges, either at the entrance or by the pay-points. There must be one somewhere but it is not obvious. When I put my chip in the slot on leaving, the screen told me that I had been there for one hour nine minutes and it was going to cost £5.90; run of the mill for central London, where NCP is based, but in Edinburgh, well, bugger that for a game of soldiers. A complaint has been lodged with Trading Standards; let’s see what happens.

Did a signing at Costco today, and was asked to sign a book, for his wife Anne, by the greatest back row forward ever to pull on a Scotland rugby shirt. My pleasure. I hope you enjoy Grievous Angel, Mrs Jeffrey.

Thanks for that, I’ll pass your congratulations on to Jim and Hilary, the readers. I’ll be happy to sign a book for your son. You might like to remind him that Father’s Day’s coming up soon also.

This from Alistair Beaton, a regular correspondent:

 I enjoy the jokes you publish in your blog and thought this one would appeal to you.

‘After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, Canadian scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 200 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 150 years ago.

‘Not to be outdone by their neighbours, in the weeks that followed, an American archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story published in the New York Times:
“American archaeologists, finding traces of 250-year-old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network 50 years earlier than the Canadians”.

‘One week later, the British authorities reported the following:
“After digging as deep as 30 feet in East-Fife, Shuggy Gilchrist, a self-taught archaeologist from Methil Hill, reported that he found absolutely f*** all.
Shug has therefore concluded that 250 years ago, Scotland had already gone wireless.”

Just makes you bl**dy proud to be a Jock, eh?’

Tough luck, Your Majesty. Yes, HM’s horse finished third in the Derby. Too bad Lester isn’t around, any more. He’d have carried the beast over the line.

Thanks to the Globe and Mail, Toronto, for inviting me to do the following

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/arts/books/quintin-jardine-a-pool-and-an-e-reader/article2046424/

A guy goes to the post office to apply for a job. The interviewer asks him, “Are you allergic to anything?” He replies, “Yes, caffeine.I can’t drink coffee.”   “Ok, Have you ever been in the military service?” “Yes,” he says, “I was in Iraq for one tour.” The interviewer says, “That will give you 5 extra points toward employment.” Then he asks, “Are you disabled in any way?” The guy says, “Yes. A bomb exploded near me and I lost both my testicles.” The interviewer grimaces and then says, “Okay. You’ve got enough points for me to hire you right now. Our normal hours are from 8:00 am to 4:00 PM. You can start tomorrow at 10:00 am, and plan on starting at 10:00 am every day.” The guy is puzzled and asks, “If the work hours are from 8:00 am to 4:00 PM, why don’t you want me here until 10:00 am?” “This is a government job”, the interviewer says. “For the first two hours, we just stand around drinking coffee and scratching our balls. No point in you coming in for that.”

Top of the Scottish news this morning was a think tank proposal that the notion of a single Scottish police force should be binned and the present eight force structure should be replaced by thirty-two local forces. I’m not sure who was in that tank, but whoever, they couldn’t have been thinking too hard. While I am dead against a unitary force, and would like to see Strathclyde broken into at least three units, going to thirty-two seems crazy, particularly so if these are to be overseen at local level adding to the burdens on Scotland’s councils at a time when they are being pressed to lower costs and increase efficiency.