No! No! No!

No Cyril, don't be dirty! That's not how new planes are made!

Warning - Giant Shredder on the Loose!

Between 6 pm last night and 6 am this morning, a giant shredder escaped from the paper recycling plant down at the ferry terminal. A prominent Islander, Woodworm Willie, said he had just uncorked his second bottle of cooking whisky when he saw the shredder enter Cyril's aircraft hanger.

The public are being warned not to approach the shredder. Remove all white clothing, that could be mistaken for paper, and all brand name logos that resemble letter headings and call PC Hugh Dunnett at the local station.

Police reinforcements are due to arrive from the mainland. As soon as Magnus the Bobby has pumped up the back tyre on his bicycle, he'll be catching the next ferry.

Do you think you can salvage your plane, Cyril? Such a great pity, as your plane, "The Spirit of the Last Cross Eyed Creel Maker of Balliskie," looked so good with her new wings and fresh paint.

Buy Daft Uisdean's house.

Daft Uisdean, eager to profit from highly inflated house values in the Highlands, is selling his house "The Bare Butt n' Ben."

He states, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to purchase a cottage with character. Decorated to high standards throughout, this charming one-room abode is steeped in history. The interior walls are adorned with newspapers dating as far back as 1976 and, of course, Sydney Devine personally signed the inside window pane during his 1984 Island Tour. It says, “Get Help! Sydney Devine is being held captive in here." I let him go after a few weeks, though.”

He added, “Garden extends to .007 acres. Offers over 100,000.”

Cyril's Been Grounded!

Cyril has been busy, working on his plane. He thought you might want to see his progress. When I asked him if he needed a hand, he said, “I'm missing a few wings, bit like Paul McCartney I suppose.”

If any one knows where Cyril could buy a set of wings, could they let him know in the comments section below? I think he’d be most grateful.

She's a right bonnie wee plane, right enough. Does she have a name, Cyril?

I think that Hamish the Bearded Clam Diver is a dab hand with planes. My bet is that he'd be able to help you Cyril. Are you there, Hamish?

Phantom Sheep Crutchers Strike Again!

Yes, I know…it has been a long time since I posted. I was too angry.

Woodworm Willie and myself were preparing to harvest a good crop of early autumn clapdarnachs. (They were plump as the purple plums in Jean’s garden, so they were.)

We sat upon the dry stone dyke, to partake of a small drop of cooking whisky, each choosing our favorite sheep. “I’ll get the clapdarnachs from Deirdre today, Torquil,” said Willie. “We have a good rapport going since she lost her leg.” He also selected Morag, Beverly, Lucious Linda, Moses, and the twins Annie and Fanny. As usual, that left me with Hilda Halitosis, Bucking Bertha, Bridget, Barbara, Camel Toes, Bandy Johanna, and yon big brute with the teeth, Caroline.

One dram led to another and then Willie fell off the dyke. Neither of us was fit for any harvesting.

When we sobered up, ten days later, Willie shouted from the dyke, “Torquil, come quick!” in an urgent voice, meaning either we’d run out of whisky or the septic tank was overflowing again. I ran as fast as I could.

When I saw the girls, naked, I knew that the phantom sheep crutchers had been at work again. We lost a whole season’s worth of clapdarnachs to that wicked band of shavers.

PC Hugh Dunnett has set up the mobile incident room down at the ferry terminal where there will be a mandatory inspection of all electric razors. Magnus, the bobby from the mainland, will be bringing his forensic DNA kit, once he pumps up the back tire on his bicycle and catches the next ferry over.

Meanwhile, we’ve had to postpone the release of the next Lovely Day Radio Show until Jean knits some woolen underpants for the sheep.