The Company He Keeps

So then Nige, Keith's Mum says you ran into a little trubba north of the border.
When I used to frequent the hoofs and hoosies of Auld Reekie, the Royal Mile and environs was the haunt of tourists, Nasty Nats and Old Labour. (Did you not, yourself, drink with your trot Chums in the Cowgate...Ed?)
Anyone with a thirst for genteel political debate (or anything else) would repair to Rose St., New Labour, or the New Town Watering holes for the Tartan Tories.
If you had played your cards right I'm sure you could have dropped in on Malaky for a drop of Sancerre, possibly not though.  That's frog juice, is it not?

Mass, Length and Time

I have been measured ( and found wanting... Ed.)
In various medical examinations and investigations I have been asked to provide a measure of my height. I would as a matter of course offer the value of 1.87 metres, give or take a haircut and a pair of good brogues, say 1.88 amongst friends (Not thank god, any business about six foot two, eyes of blue...Ed)

I now know after extensive measurement with the latest laser technology, adjusted for relativistic effects, British Summer Time etc. ( You were put up against a wall in you socks and a plank dobbed on your nut...Ed!)

Ahem. I now stand, corrected, at 1.863m.
I just thought the readers would be interested to know what was going on after a period of silence.
(Pah, a bloody excuse for congenital indolence and stupidity...Ed!)

You know you can be a real snappy bugger when you don't have any of this editing business to do!