Despite appearances, I’m not front page news in today’s edition of the Paisley Daily Express. Blame the cuttings service for that. I’m actually on page 4 and, as the photograph proves, I will need to get back in shape if I’m ever to make it to Page 3.
What I’m enjoying most about popping up in a paper read by Paisley ‘buddies’ is that I know it will cause maximum embarrassment to my daughter, who works in the local hospital there. This is sweet revenge for a story in yesterday’s Herald Diary in which her expertise as a radiographer allowed her to puncture my pomposity during a recent speech. Asked why I had left the BBC, I told an audience that there is such a thing as a ‘BBC Lifer’ . These are the folk who, it is said, you could cut them open and, much like lettered holiday rock, it would say ‘BBC’ all the way through. I explained that I never wanted to be a ‘Lifer’ and that if you cut me open it might just say ‘Radio’ all the way through.
My daughter, without recourse to her armoury of x-ray machines and scanners, disagreed . With some authority she vouchsafed the opinion that ‘if you cut my Dad in half, all you would see is fat and gristle.”