MFV BF494 'Pansy', an old Motor Fifie Conversion

a busmans holiday? some electrickery and gizmos for someone else's boat..... has turned into a search for new, more descriptive, collective nouns

it all started on the long ferry ride out to Barra from Oban, all my nightmares come at once, think I'd rather have a large spikey camera shoved up my arse than have to endure that again, oh, hang on a mo, I did that the week before I set off

so, whats the beef. Well, despite being first in the queue for the ferry, we end up as the last car on. No worries though, doesn't make a difference does it?

on this occasion yes, first new collective noun goes to the hinderance of guardian readers. Faster than a German family in benidorm they were up the stairs and into the nice 'observation lounge' to lay out their towels, sorry, guardian saturday supplements on all the seats, so by the time we sauntered politely up to look for a seat there was nowt doing. A hinderence of guardian readers is actually a subset of another collective noun - a 'class war of middle classes'. These are very easy to spot when they are holidaying, the standard uniform tends towards short cargo pants, preferably worn 2 sizes small. these are worn regardless of the fact it is only 8 degrees centigrade and is lashing with rain and a 40mph wind. these pants must also sport a suitable recognisable and expensive brand name. A top this will be 2 possibilities, the short sleeved polo shirt (with upturned collar) or the rugby shirt (with upturned collar). footwear will be sandals for outdoorsy types, preferably with a prominent berghaus logo. these are often worn with socks, the racier type may opt to go sockless. preferred mode of transport for the holidaying hindrance is usually the volvo estate

ok then lets try one of the other lounges... whence we happen upon our next new collective - the plague of cub scouts. In our case this particular plague was closely affiliated to the hinderance and the class war up stairs. 30 or so, very spoilt, very immature vay vay porsh 8 and 9 year old boys, off to the outer hebrides for a week for some dib dib dibbing with Akela. Little bastards every one of them, so we have a lounge, with 25 rows of 3 seats, a capacity of 75. so Akela puts 2 of the little darlings on every row. Akela and his care in the community assistants take a few more rows and pile all there goods and chatels on the remaining rows - the baggage racks were empty

ok, try the lounge on the starboard side. Collective noun number 3 - a picket line of twitchers. they hated us - we had a dog - we hated them more, and that hatred has grown every day with been on the island, but more on that later. So the twitchers, adapt a similar policy tot he little darlings from Chipping Sodbury Scout pack, lay as much of your belongings where ever you can to discourage the hoi polloi from getting anywhere near sitting down

that leave's the restaurant, but no doggies allowed in there.

so the 6 hour ferry crossing was spent, standing up, walking around or sitting on the baggage racks. Walking round was essential to stave off the desire to throw the woggle clad ones over board, who had just realised they had a great big new play thing to run around for 6 hours, shrieking and screaming at each other.

standing didn't work either, as one of the few places to stand was out on deck, which was A: fecking cold, and B: entirely the property of the picket line of twitchers. as soon as you thought ok, I can bear the cold, I'll just stand here where its quiet, word would miraculously filter down to the picket line of twitchers who would appear on mass to look at another fecking seagull, clad in more camo than the Duke of Edinburghs Ghillie, but with less interpersonal skills, they barge past, and line the rails shoulder to shoulder. "Its a lesser spotted pied skua bat" "its a wailing fusticle grebe" etc etc and then"actually its just a seagull" where upon they would all barge past once more to the lounge to double check it was actually a fecking seagull.

why camo for god's sake?? your on a 10.000 ton ferry, in the middle of the sea???

but hey ho, lets try sitting on the baggage racks for a bit again. A few minutes peace now and again until the woggleites re-appeared. the new game was now hide and seek. "Are you going to be staying here?", one of them had the temerity to ask. "We want to use this space"

"We want to sit down but there's as much chance of that as me not going to the chokey for trowing you overboard, now feck off"

so much for scouting and doing good to others. the crew complained about them, the passengers complained about them, Akela just looked blank and adjusted himself in his unfeasibly tight shorts

And the nightmare Dragged on.

And on.

One one of my little wanders I thought I'd have another trip up to visit the hinderance. Had to leave there though, on account of overhearing a discussion that was going on betwixt 2 of the more chinless of the species. the topic was the hot topic of the week. Expenses. "I think its disgraceful how people should be allowed to see the minute details of MP's expenses. Most of them won't even understand what it means"

Maybe he was an MP? He was certainly a bit of a member. I had to leave

Maybe a trip to the bar? It says no dogs on the door, but Im past caring

so in I goes and waits dutifully at the bar. In comes one of the hindrance, blue polo shirt (with upturned collar - no socks) a pound coin gripped firmly between thumb and forefinger, straight past me, and raps on the bar with said pound coin. "I say, I say....." (obviously you say, no bugger else would have the effrontery)

"I say, what sort of tonic do you have?"

"The sort that comes in a tin" (priceless!)

"Oh (pauses to digest this earth shattering statement) I suppose I'll have a gin and tonic then"

jesus mate, "suppose" don't force yourself. Lisa, (the girl behind the bar) bless here, duly obliges, smiles and takes his money, which took a while, for him to extract, coin by coin from his girly purse, obviously unfamiliar with having to deal with small change. The bastards can put an 89p claim in for a bathplug on expenses though

"There's nee wonder you scots hate us English" was all I could think to say as I ordered a Guinness.

"not of all you, just most of you" I'll drink to that

and on and on it went. the one highlight, was the sight of a woggleite, having stuffed his fat posh face with sweets for 3 hours and ran around like a someone who's nana had substituted his smarties for amphetamines, succumbed to the increasing swell in the minch and launched his lunch and several kilos of E numbers down his shirt and onto his bag. Suffer ya wee shite!

but eventually journeys end, the hindrance, the class war, the picket line and the plague all fought to get down the the vehicle deck first.

although just before disembarking a woggleite approached. "excuse me, your son called me an idiot"

options were

1: call son over and chastise him, the correct term to use should of been a fucking idiot

or

2: call son over and chastise him - punch first insult later

or

3: inform woggleite he shouldn't be behaving like an idiot then should he

Ok, I admit it I took option 3

We were last on so bugger it, I'm having another pint, and this time I'm going to sit in a warm comfy seat to drink it, I'll get off in 10 minutes! So here's to the Crew of "The Clansman" they don't pay you enough

so that was 2 days ago. and I thought all my collective noun troubles were a thing of the past

but no, a new one. An Annoyance of corncrakes. The political machinations and their implications on the working man in these parts put aside for a moment. they're an noisy bunch of bastards. The machair outside the window is full of the buggers. and that can only mean one thing. and sure as eggs is eggs, at 7am this morning, a picket line of twitchers, stood outside my bedroom window, marvelling at the sodding things

Easy solution. I let the dog out. that shifted em. but only to the other side of the field. 10am, they were still there. time to play fetch with the doggy in the middle of the corncrakesville

the picket line were none too impressed.

*MC Corncrake takes over the Mic - SCCCCCRrrreeeeeee (or is that a snipe?)*

Just to put your mind at rest Skippler a couple of updates from the mainland.

Bill Oddie has been dropped from "SnailWatch" - fantastic news. A press release has alluded to the fact that he is suffering from depression, which I think is excellent! The grapevine suggests the humourless pygmy was binned on account of his pathological whining and constant innapropriate sexual innuendos, on a show which is all about badgers, moles and the odd owl.

Newcastle United FC suffered a minor blip on their hunt for European football.

Pansy is fine, nothing to worry about - I've deliberately steered clear so as not to cause trouble. She might be a bit full of water as I'm not sure whether I put the plug back in last time. Might be down soon to burn some paint off, may even replace the knees, deckbeams and sternums before you get back as a bit of a surprise. I've bought 14 tonnes of Fimo, this man I met on the way back from a pub in Shields reckons it's exactly the same as wood but you don't have to cut it.