BILLY BREMNER MEMORIAL JOIN OUR CAMPAIGN

Mr English and the Guinness Book of Records

Date: 22nd September 2024

Picture the scene…

It is Tuesday.

Over the weekend, Mr. English has been up in Dundee to talk to a Mr. Docherty about the rewards he has missed out on. A keen gardener and allotment holder, he has been working a plot of land on Tannadice Street for some months in the city and has now grown the perfect parsnip.

It is the greatest parsnip Mr. English has ever seen. In fact, over the years many of the vegetables that have come out of the blue allotment in Tannadice Street have been ridiculed by their neighbours, the Arab sponsored Tangerine Dreams who have their own proud history or at least they did, until recently. Their demise has coincided with the rise of their rivals.

Mr. English is convinced that what he has in his hands is a story that shall shatter the world because the parsnip he saw, was the absolute peach of a parsnip, the most perfectly formed peach of a parsnip that wasn’t actually a peach.

And he is convinced that this is a stonewall beauty, the most perfectly formed one ever to be seen and there must be a category which would allow the grower, Mr. Docherty, to claim the ultimate prize – a genuine worldy, a world recrod. And Mr. English, known locally as the Irishman working in Scotchland called English who has never been to Walesland, is off on one.

“Mr. English,” begins the intern who has been given the task of finding out if they can get hold of the Guinness Book of Records. “Exactly what is the record, you are talking about?”

Mr. English looks up at her then realises that he had muttered about it but never explained. He motions her to come into his office and sit and begins like she is a bit thick.

“Mr. Docherty has grown this thing, which is a tremendous thing.” She nods.

“It’s a thing of absolute beauty so it is.” She nods again.

“But the local judge, overlooked it in the recent competition. He thought it was not the beauty we all thought it was. BUT! The head of the judges, Mr. Collum. Oh, he had another opinion altogether.” Mr. English, the Irishman working in Scotchland called English who has never been to Walesland, starts to rock back on his chair. “He only goes and calls Mr. English, after the competition and tells him it was stonewall, the best in the competition and the winner should have been penalised for an infringement. Don’t you see?” She shakes her head and looks quizzically at Mr. English.

“That’s never happened before,” he exclaims. “As in NEVER! The judges up there are tight. You cannot get them to publicly say anything about each other and for one of them, especially the head one, to phone up and tell Mr. Docherty that a fellow judge mucked it up is utterly unique.”

“How?” asks the intern.

Mr. English sighs. “Because it is. Now have you got hold of the Guinness woman yet?”

She shakes her head again.

“But, what,” she begins to ask, “record do you think this has made?”

Mr. English hesitates and for the first time begins to doubt himself. “Well,” he stutters, “is there not a Scottish judge gets it wrong category?”

The intern shakes her head again.

“Then, that’s it. The very first.”

The intern responds, “but it’s the Guinness Book of WORLD Records, not the Guiness Book of Scottish Records…”

Mr. English, the Irishman working in Scotchland called English who has never been to Walesland, grabs the book from her hands.

“Where’s the section on parsnips,” he barks.

“There isnae one, Mr. English. There are sections on size of vegetables but I cannae find one on the perfectness of a parsnip. And certainly not one that compares parsnips to peaches.”

Mr. English looks up at her. His 1,000 words for the online comment column now need rewritten. He thought he had a scoop, front page headlines but here he was stuck without the front page, once again. His enthusiasm on the wane, he glances over to his other notes…

“Kirkcaldy,” he blurts. “What about that Mr. Murray in Kirkcaldy. He got the elbow for something, perhaps he grew turnips? Get me the phone!”

And with that, the intern got up, closed Mr. English, the Irishman working in Scotchland called English who has never been to Walesland’s door and went back to her desk.

It was the latest in a series of bizarre things to have happened in this office and she too was looking for a scoop. Being undercover at BH with the BBC was turning out to be fertile ground for her as she finishes her notes on her computer of the recent parsnip penalty escapade and shut down the machine for the night. But, as she leaves, she is unaware of a shadowy figure, lurking furtively in the shadows. Her time at the BBC may becoming to a shadowy end…

 

Whilst the author asserts his right to this as an original piece of work, Tom English has been to Wales and I have no idea if Tony Docherty has ever grown parsnips, unless you know differently, so, this is clearly a piece of fiction.

The fact is that Willie Collum, head of refereeing in Scotland gave Tony Docherty a call after a recent game and admitted that the Dundee side were denied a stonewall penalty in their game against Ross County. As reported on Dundee FC media, Docherty said, “He phoned me yesterday to tell me he’d watched it back himself. I won’t go into details of the conversation, but we had an absolute stonewall penalty. I appreciate massively Willie’s honesty and openness. That’s the way I think it should be. Previously, there was a decision that maybe should have gone against us in the derby, which I agreed with. This one should have gone for us, but we never got the decision. But, again, I’m really thankful for Willie phoning me. I think we have got to see that transparency going forward.” And with both Dundee teams now in the Premier League, perhaps we can see if decisions even themselves out over the season after all and if that transparency can continue or which one shall end up with turnips somewhere in their squad…


Posted in: Latest News

Tags: , , , ,