Who Shot Oor Wullie? by Robin Cairns
Robin Cairns, a man of much creative and poetic abilities. It's my belief this man could make an empty room laugh with his humorous poetry and fantastic hosting skills, but he doesn't need to, because Robin continuously packs any room out with eager ears awaiting his saunty swagger and cheeky jibes.
Robin has been writing for many years in theatre, poetry, comedy and print journalism. Including The King’s Head Theatre - Islington, The Utrecht Poetry Festival, The Stand Comedy Club, The Herald newspaper and the Saughton Prison Magazine. He has appeared with John Cooper Clarke, Billy Idol, Liz Lochead, John Hegley, Carla Woodburn and The Krankies.
He has a new book out, Please Don’t Punch The Poets, the story of the aggro and the ecstasy of the Scottish poetry scene over the last twenty years. It’s published on Amazon Kindle and can be downloaded to be read on a Kindle or any tablet or laptop. As lockdown loosens Robin is currently lecturing on Charles Rennie Mackintosh online for Travel Editions, the tour company which has had to postpone its schedule for this year.
Robin is hoping that things will be back to normal and that he will be able to perform at The Edinburgh Fringe as his popular character, Morningside Malcolm, in the summer a year from now.
Who Shot Oor Wullie?
There’s an empty bucket in old Dundee, blood runs down a Glebe Street gully
And the headline bold in the Sunday Post reads “Who Shot Oor Wullie?”
Twas a typical day in comic strip land, the chums were playing indoors
Fat Boab was watching a porno, Wee Eck on Buckie was blotto
No sign of Soapy, no cause for alarm, he’s turned his room to a cannabis farm
While Wullie’s just sat on his bucket stabbing hookers in Grand Theft Auto
But Wullie was mightily down in the dumps when he suddenly hit game over
His vicious gangland character crashed and burned while selling his drugs
His guts all over the gameboy were plastered and Wullie cried out, “Aya Bast ...!”
When a shot rang out and a bullet passed through one of Oor Wullie’s lugs
As his lifeblood red on the pavement spread the chums yelled, “Call the law!”
But PC Murdoch couldn’t be found though they hunted him something awfy
Down all the dookits the Officer jouked when he wanted a wee fly smoke
And his polis box was a kiosk now selling cappuccino coffee
“Stay with us, Wullie!” said Soapy Soutar. “We will find the plod for you yet.
You’re leaking a lot of tomato sauce, where did they get you an that?”
“Here,” said Wullie, “Right through the tab, and that was my sore lug too
The one PC Murdoch always clips when my catapult knocks off his hat
Then doing ninety miles an hour a Zed Car mee-mawed past
And Fat Boab called, “Man down here, Pigs!” But the polis onward rolled
Cos they’d taken into custody a pair of chicken suppers
They intended to interrogate before the case got cold
“Phone 999, Soapy!” says Wullie but when he got through he was told
I’m afraid all the filth are too busy right now, here’s some music while we put you on hold
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ....
Down to the station Fat Boab peched but found it had been rebuilt
In darkened glass and steel over seven floors it did soar
And though Boab daundered round it twice and chapped his knuckles raw
In that dark forbidding structure he could not find the door
Fat Boab stood back and hollered, “Oor Wullie’s shot and bleeding,
Fae the lobe of his tab,” But the building glared impassive, stern, unheeding
I said “Wullie’s been ...” then a polisy voice from a sinister tannoy spoke
“Stand back Robert with Body Mass Issues, we are clearly aware of Wullie’s ongoing lughole situation
And the paperwork is properly being dealt with now in the after of which a report will be actioned
Now get off our lawn or we’ll lift you for GTA, that’s Grass Trampling Aggravation
“Howcum there’s no door in your office?” says Boab, “And why don’t youse pick up the phone?”.
“Because then we’d be swamped,” said the polis, “Every horrible urchin and waif
Demanding we come running to help every time they get shot
Which would divert our resources from our paramount priority which is “Keeping Communities Safe.”
“There’s a shooter loose,” said Boab, “Does that not community safety sully?”
“Listen ya bawbag,” the polis replied, “It was us that shot Oor Wullie.
Citizens should bear in mind that sweary words are a crime
And he nearly said, “Aya Bastard!” but we nailed him just in time”
Then Boab to the roofline cast his gaze where black against the sky
PC Murdoch in sniper gear with Raybans and gun he did see
And Boab said, “Crivvens, I get your concerns, it is a bit rough round here
I can understand the bullet proof vest, but sunglasses – in Dundee?
“Safety is paramount, Boab,” he said, “This morning for instance I’ve shot
A football supporter thinking of tweeting a nasty message of hate
A lady who left her window open, thereby encouraging burglars
And a citizen whose recycling bin was slightly lacking in weight”
At no danger at all to myself or my colleagues, in our slogan you’ll find a clue
The community we most like to keep safe is the one of the boys in blue
Now bog off back to your Glebe Street slum and don’t give us none of your cheek
Oor Wullie’s a scabby wee knobheaded ned, he’d be getting his ear pierced next week
Robin Cairns, January 2018