Try not to get your dwangs in a nogging

ONLY one man knows what to do with a dwang. Only one bloke knows never to leave his noggings out at night.

Oh yes. In an unusual development, this sketch rises to salute Des McNulty (Lab).

Des’s moment of glory came during a debate in the cuddly Parliament about buildings. Somebody (the debate began too early for me and I missed who it was) brought up the subject of the aforementioned d’s and n’s .

Brawny Kenny Gibson (SNP) scratched his brain and said: "I don’t know if the minister knows what dwangs and noggings are, but I don’t."

Then Des rose timidly to explain: "A dwang is actually the same as a nogging." With you so far, mate. "A dwang is the Scots word and a nogging is the English word for the cross-pieces of a stud partition wall."

Crivvens. It sounded unlikely. He wouldn’t be having us on, would he? Well, no. As Des explained: "I spent much of my childhood on building sites." Amazing! "My father was a bricklayer and was obsessively interested in different styles of building."

Hod oan a minute, this was positively Freudian news, though even this column hesitates to mention anything relating to erections. Des explained: "My teenage years were often spent holding up the bottom of ladders."

Then he added modestly: "This might be a point of interest." My boy, for once, it was. Congratulations, mate.

Now, while I have become au fait with noggins, don’t ask me to explain what a Sewell motion is.

You wouldn’t understand it anyway. I certainly don’t. All I know is that it’s something to do with London legislation that also has some relevance in the Scotch protectorate. And if that’s wrong, I’m not bothered.

One such piece of legislation is the Criminal Justice Bill, which seemed to get right up the nose of Michael Matheson (SNP), possibly because the Libbery-Labberies never look smugger than when doing their Land of Hope and Glory routine.

Michael was intrigued by the fact that, while the Lib Dems at Westminster had voted against the bill, at Holyrood they were voting for it.

George Lyon (Lib Dem) had an explanation: "That is Westminster. This is the Scottish Parliament." Well, that’s cleared that one up.

Bitchy Brian Fitzpatrick (Lab) had an unusual observation to make of Christine Grahame (SNP): "She sighs from her usual sedentary position." Oo-er, Missus. But he wasn’t finished there, referring to Christine’s "usual bleat". Bleat? So, the sheep stories were true.

Later, Christine had her own back. Brian: "Would you take an intervention?" Christine: "Not from you. Not at any time."

At question time in the afternoon, the rudeness continued when Andrew Welsh (SNP) flashed a bit of fishnet. He was making a point about nets used by bad foreigners to catch minuscule marine life.

Outside, meanwhile, fisher-folk marched through the drizzle to protect their jobs.

Alex Salmond, the former Nat leader, was among them, as was Jamie McGrigor (Con) who declared: "If it is necessary to break the law and ride the waves as a deck hand, I will join any vessel that will accept me."

I was just trying to deal with a mental image of the dissolute-looking aristo skidding about the poop deck when I learned that Sydney Devine was also due to address the rally. He once sang a song called May The Bird Of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose. I don’t know what to say now.

Let’s get back into the warmth of chamber, where Alex Johnstone (Con) was boasting that his leader, David McLetchie, and his ber-leader, Iain Duncan Smith, had been mincing around Arbroath earlier in the day. Ross Finnie, the fishy minister, said they’d probably been taken to see "where the fishing industry or even where Scotland is".

Meanwhile, Richard Simpson, the loose-tongued former minister, had slipped into a back bench. Fortunately, though, he kept his gob shut, allaying fears that he might be tempted to start sounding off about "fishist bastards".

Apparently, Jack McConnell, the Leader of North Britain, had warned him that, one more slip, and he would dwang his noggings.