Scottish Weather and Gordon Brown's bum

Another end to a piss awful, in more ways than one, summer and in one of my now infamous theories I have came up with the reason why it has become so wet in recent years........

Gordon Brown's bum.

You see there is a physical limit to how much crap a politician can spout out of their mouth and any excess must therefore be expelled via the more traditional exit point. And judging by the permanent grimace on Gordon Brown's face we're looking at a man who is just full of it to the point of bursting.

So what happens to the excess bull that he hasn't managed to dump on the public by way of taxation?

He flushes it down an especially built lavvie with a pipeline running up to Berwick-Upon-Tweed whereupon it is immediately fed through boilers to form steam and ultimately excrement derived rainclouds.

And you thought those windfarms were to generate electricity.....well you're wrong, they're there to blown the damn clouds around the country.

This allows Gordo to shit on on everyone, quite literally, from a great height.

"Aye"....Now whats the question?

Only in Scotland can you climb a mountain or walk through any fishing village and total strangers will without fail look you in the face and say "aye" to you before you've asked them any question.

No where else have I experienced this strange phenomenon and this has led me to constantly climb mountains safe in the knowledge that all strangers will instantly provide their approval on any subject matter that happens to be going through my brain at the time.

This method of instant subconcious approval can be useful for so many things such as "is it okay to blow my overdraft", "should I buy that shiny ipod", "can I really afford that holiday"......etc.

Be wary though as this phenomenon can have certain drawbacks if, for example, you decide to go climbing in pink chequered stay-pressed slacks and subconsciously ask yourself "do I look fab & groovy in these?" whereupon your ESP gifted passer bye will without fail say "aye" thereby convincing yourself that you're the Brad Pitt of the mountains when in fact you're actually the Sad Tit of them.