2006-03-17 - 11:26 p.m.

This is where I live:

"Memorial fund for wee Robbie"

Bless. Poor wee dead Robbie-wobs.

"The first charge alleges that on an unknown date between January 1 1990, and December 31, 1996, at an address in Perth, he touched the private parts of the girl on the top of her clothing. She was born in 1983."

Such incisive journalism. One wonders what her private parts were doing on top of her clothing.

"Dog owner is injured".

Good.

"A Perthshire shepherd jumped into his pick-up truck to search for his deaf sheepdog, which had run off from his farm cottage.
But 58-year old James Hogg had consumed four "house measures" of whisky and was smelling strongly of drink when police spoke to him".

Oh, I wish I could show you the picture of drunk shepherd James Hogg. Imagine the most suspicious-looking beardy-paedo type crossed with a camp medieval villain and you're on your way to visualising this guy's strangeness: "Knowing the futility of shouting or whistling, he acted instinctively and jumped into the pick-up truck..." Aye, we've all been there.

"The outraged owner of a giant owl has blasted press reports which claimed the bird was attacking children in a Perthshire village."

Say it, don't spray it, Hitch.

And the owner didn't "blast" anything: he criticised, he objected to, he spoke out against, even (I'm talking like Snagglepuss now). He didn't "blast" anything, unless this piece of tabloidese is meant to imply that the person in question physically blasted the newspaper reports in queston, via gunplay or otherwise. I'd suggest that "tutted about" would be more apt than "blasted" in these local instances of not very much.

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