John Gibson: SuBo dying for a fish supper?

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Whatever you do, be sure the condiments are handy. SuBo, essentially a woman of the people, does smack her lips over a fish supper at the end of a gig, so she’s been mucking into the diva’s delicacy this week throughout her barnstorming nationwide concert tour.

By public demand presumably. Dreaming the dream of a supper on the road. Pass her the sauce and vinegar.

And why not? Why shouldn’t she indulge hersef? She’s worked for it, she’ll tell you. And reportedly she has spoiled herself by forking out for her first car, a bottle green Jag. A mean machine. Best you learn to drive first, I’d advise.

What did she eat the night she gatecrashed one of Keith O’Brien’s New Year parties? Cardinal O’Brien’s supper table was groaning with grub. Sausage rolls, yes, but I can’t recall seeing any fish suppers and I doubt if His Eminence had sent out for any.

Anyway, SuBo, good luck to you with what remains of your tour. And careful when you get behind the wheel.

Not yet, Andy

Andy Murray’s got it all to do. If he does, they’re bleating about a knighthood for the lad. I’m with the faction, the common sense body, who are suggesting the gong should be “frozen” till later in his career. Till he has “matured”. Meantime give him the freedom of Edinburgh. Then, again, wait till the trams have matured.

Afterwords . . .

. . . spouting from Al Pacino: “Even when I got the part in The Godfather I knew that the film studio wanted somebody else. I remember at one point, feeling so insecure, going to a church and praying.

“I joined Alcoholics Anonymous for a while. I stopped drinking and even stopped smoking, too. I went from 40 to 60 cigarettes a day to nothing. It was willpower. But it was hard.”

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