Meanwhile - Overheard in a Kirkwall Café.

Ida:   …and another thing you keep your grimy paws off ma man you sleekit besom.
 
Jessie:   Less of your lip, I heard about you having a real fill on Friday night and ending up in the Postman’s Arms.  No doot, it’s the only wan you’re no barred fae.
 
Iona:    Don’t mak eye contact wi’ her Jessie, she’s no worth it.  Don’t let her engage wi’ a’ that bruck aboot her Sandra’s love-child.
 
Jessie:   Love child my eye, a ‘body kens she wis conceived in Wick Harbour; and the fleet wisnae in!  By the way when I left the hoose my Ken was in a real mood.
 
Iona:   Whit did you do ?
 
Jessie:   What else could I do ?  I put some mood music on.
 
Iona:  Rachmaninoff?
 
Jessie:  Well, something was off.  Although I am very susceptible to Rachmaninov’s set of six miniature solo piano pieces from 1896. Each moment is a wonderful Rachmaninovian reproduction of a musical form characteristic of a previous era of music – there’s a nocturne, a song without words, a barcarolle, an étude, and a theme and variations.  Have you finished with that scone?
 
Iona:   Whilst I mind on, her at No 16 was in the toon earlier last week and, whilst innocently walking along Dundas Street, couldn’t help but notice that mannie in No 32 standing in the bay window fingering his piccolo.  He’d previously met her at the Bingo in the Legion and offered to show her his magic flute. 
 
Jessie:   That doesn’t sound anatomically advisable.  Did she call the boabies ?
 
Iona:  No – him at 32 is a Boaby.  By the way how’s your Sigurd ?
 
Jessie:   Sadly the same old problem.  I heard a squeak at three in the morning and turned the light on.  There he was stark bollock naked and riding his pushbike aroond the bedroom.  He’s never been the same since he attended that Convention of World Commodities at the United Nations HQ.  Thankfully he had a slow puncture.
 
Iona:  I’ve heard no further news aboot Rubber Arse joining the Leisure Centre gym.   Believe me nothing good will come of it.  She’d be better off biding at hame and worming her prize pig. 
 
Jessie:   Well, I’ll need to ging awa’ soon as I have to post a box of haggis to Christmas Island, and it’ll soon be time for my Stan’s crystal treatment. 
 
Iona:  The one thing it taught me is to never trust a man who keeks through a letter box.
 
Jessie:  (To Ida)  Are you still here ?  Talk aboot brazen
 
The slapping of handbags could be heard even inside the interior of the St Magnus Cathedral.
 
Mind on, don’t stay tuned.