Shite wasn't it? We didn't have any of those funny glasses, so me Dad looked at it through a colander, just like they said to do on the BBC website. Now he reckons he's strained his eyes. Woof. Of course we weren't in Jockland, to get the best view of it, thankfully. I'd be surprised if anyone up there even noticed it. "It's going to go a bit darker and colder than normal" - not a lot to go on if you're a Sweaty Sock there is there? It does that every fuckin day up there. This Jock moves to London looking for work. After about a month he goes home to visit his Mum in Glasgow. "Well, our wee Hamish, how's London then, so it is?" his Mum asks when he gets home. "Nae too bad Ma, except the bloke in the flat below me keeps bangin on his foockin ceiling all day and night, and the wee lassie above me screams and wails constantly, it dee's me fookin heed in it dees," he says. "Try not to let it bother yee too much, just ig...

Why do the Sweaty Socks get to see more of it than we do? Well, when I say "see" from what the BBC say it's gonna be cloudy as fuck up there tomorrow (just like yesterday and the day before that), so in truth they'll get to see bugger all - hahahaha! Stick that you Sweaties. Can't get rid of the fuckers can we? Give them their independence, now that the price of oil has come down, that's what I say. And the Welsh, they can frack off as well. Do you remember Max Boyce? What a boring Welsh twat he was. About the only Welsh punter who's ever done anything decent is that bloke who pissed off to Patagonia and set up a mini-Wales down there - that's about the sort of distance I like between me and the Welsh, thousands of fucking miles and a vast area of ocean.