Grande cuillère en bois.

The mobile phone rang. No, it was not Satan this time…...

“Hello”, said the voice at the other end. “You don’t know me , my name is Jimmy!”

He was right about the first point; I would have to take his word about the second.

“I am the Man with the Big Wooden Spoon”, he continued.

“Help!” I thought. “Too many hours on the Internet at work and they have rumbled me. I hope this won’t hurt.”

“We would like to invite you as our guest at the Big Annual Stir down at the Culloden, can you join us?”

“Delighted to”, I said, faster than a ferret up a Scotsman’s kilt. At last a chance to mix with the rich and very famous. Well, I mean, it would be rude not to.

Arriving at the last minute I shook my hair and strolled casually up to the bar. The function room was packed and I realised that I did not know anyone rich, apart from Youngman of course, but he was not there. Then I spotted Ding Dong2u.

“Is he slightly famous?”, I thought, “cos I don’t think he is rich.”

Then I spotted Hound. “Well, I know he is infamous, maybe he is also rich.”

Wandering around looking for a table plan I bumped into the man with The Big Wooden Spoon whom I didn’t know. “Was he rich?” I wondered.

“Hello”, he said, “you don’t know me, I’m Jimmy!”

That is twice he has said that. “Can I borrow some money?” I almost asked. “Do you know where I will be sitting?”

“Up there on yonder platform”, he said, pointing to the top table.

“No, No – I am not speaking tonight and I am not famous.” (I did not tell him a bout all the dosh I made selling T shirts from the boot of my car at Raving Hill.)

So there I was sitting beside young Lewis Stevenson and Paul Marshall. (There was no sign of Jane.)

“Are you rich?” asked the gold digger opposite me asked. “Cos I have never heard of you.”

“I am with the man I don’t know”, I replied, but she had already turned her attention elsewhere.

The meal was top rate. I could get used to this gravy train malarkey. And the speeches were great as well.

Then there was an auction and the very rich started throwing their wallets about.

Then there was a ballot but I won nathin’.

Then I fell in with the Hounds; (running with the pack is seriously bad for your health).

Then I went home.

Then I woke up at 5am sitting in the good room.

Then I checked my wallet. Empty. Running with the pack is also seriously bad for your wealth.
(If I keep this up then some day I might be slightly famous……….….nah!)

SCOOP