Jings, crivvens and michty me, whit a month it's been.

I'm fair puggled and looking forward tae a wee break at the but'n'ben.

It's a sair fecht bein' the Heid Coach o' Scotland, man, ah'm telling ye.

Whit can ye dae?

Ah gubbed the English at Wembalee an' still they're oot tae get me! "Broon must go!" some say. Help ma boab.

Ah'm gaun naewhere except Japan fer the draw fer the next toornie wir gonnae get knocked oot of. By the time ah get back, the heat'll be aff and folk'll be thinkin' aboot Christmas. And then me and Maw are gaun fer a slap-up dinner at the Palais.

A guid New Year to ane and all!

Paw Broon