Don’t piss against the wind.
Learn how to poop in the woods.
But don’t wipe your arse with nettles.
Nobody hears when you fart against thunder.
Pick up your own dog’s poop.
I like DE shaving but that doesn’t mean I’m any good at it.
We all have one arse so don’t put up with anymore.
I love birthdays: if I didn’t have them, I’d be deid.
When you’re young, have a pile of shags ‘cos when you’re old, all you’ll have is a shagpile.
Cream carpets show up shite best.
Always eat too many sprouts at Christmas: with any luck, your relatives will piss off home because of the smell.
Playing rugby without full contact is just tig with an an egg.
When I wake up in the morning, I think to myself, “Oh feck, not again.”
Scottish Fitba’
Hibs are pish.
So are Celtic.
And Rangers.
Aberdeen aren’t famous anymore.
1986 never happened.
Neither did 2016.
But 2012 was the best year ever.
Albert Kidd is the devil.
St Mirren were paid off.
And don’t mention Dundee.
On Saturdays, Pittodrie is half full of sheep.
On Sundays, it’s full of sheep poop.
In case you didn’t know, England apparently won the World Cup in 1966.
But Scotland gubbed them in 1967.