Dunblane Fling

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The Insider

Ever wondered what its like to organise the Fling? Well now you can find out. Each month the mysterious Fling Insider will update their blog on life inside the Fling....

February 2017

APRIL 2015

MAY 2014

May Insider

APRIL 2014

Fling Insider April

MARCH 2014


APRIL 2013 - Not more stuff???

Oh dear, these dreadfully cheery Fling people keep having more 'bright ideas' - totally dull, pathetic dreams more like.  I mean, I've been telling anyone who'll listen that a talent show in Dunblane has no chance.  Him next door with his annoying kids might as well take part, for all the good it will do. Sing, dance, entertain ?  I don't think so ! I keep telling you, there's no talent in Dunblane. The piddling dog's going to win.

Then there's this Fling by the River thing. Waste of time, I say. It's going to rain - you'll see. That'll soon put an end to their pipe band and plastic ducks and their 'community having fun' nonsense.  Let's see if this community caper will work when it rains. I don't think so !

And it gets worse. Now I'm hearing that there's going to be a Jazz Night. What???  Who likes to jazz ?  You won't catch me listening to that cheery stuff.  Total waste of time I say. Anyone daft enough to buy a ticket might as well stay in the bar and keep well away from all that jazz. Skilful musicians and foot-tapping music ?  I don't think so! More like a wailing nightmare, I say.

But what's this I'm also hearing ?  A concert ?  I was about to throw up my hands in despair when I saw the poster....  The Sour Mash Blues Band ??  Now THAT'S what I call a great name for a band ! This whole Fling this is just a sour joke anyway. Enough to give anyone the blues. Sounds like a band with none of that pathetic Flingy cheeriness. This'll be a real grumpy lot - just my cup of tea.

Might even go along myself .

March 2013 - Talent, what talent???

Hmm... I see posters around the town inviting people to take part in this Fling Talent Show thingy. Looks like these pathetically cheery Fling people are determined to carry on with this daft idea. Singers, dancers, musicians, jugglers, comedians - in Dunblane ?? I don't think so ! I can't imagine why anyone would want to appear on stage at the Vicky Hall anyway - the piddling dancing dog's already got it in the bag. Waste of time for anyone else really...

Not only that, I hear that the next bright idea is a 'Fling by the River' Community Picnic on the Green. Really ? Dunblane is a community ?? With people who actually want to talk to each other ? That's news to me ! I don't even say hello to the guy next door. He goes off on his train in the morning and goes back into his house when he's home each evening. Good ! Just because he says hello to me doesn't mean that I've got to do the same - not with his noisy kids. They're welcome to their Community Picnic thingy, and their plastic duck race, and their pipe band and cheery music and dancing and story-telling and all that stuff. A Dunblane man's house is his castle, I say. So I'll be pulling up the drawbridge and keeping well away from the Green and all these Flingy thingy people.

Anyway, everyone knows that if they hold a picnic on the Green, it will just rain. Definitely, for sure, without doubt, it will absolutely certainly pour buckets. You mark my words. You heard it here first. And when it does, I'll blame the Fling committee. There will be kids with muddy wellies tramping through other folks' food, drookit Flingy people trying to look happy, miserable Dunblane folk crowding into marquees, the ice-cream man looking as woeful as one of his drippy 99s.

But it was a nice sunny day last year, I hear you say! Folk had a great time on the Green. Even the kids nearly behaved. Yes, maybe - but that was because that merry bunch of Fling people DIDN'T have a Community Picnic thing last year !! It's obvious. Hold a picnic on the Green, or try to get Dunblane people to be cheery and nice to each other, and it will definitely rain. You mark my words. You heard it here first.

February 2013 - I'm back, not by popular demand but who cares?

Oh dear. It seems that the Fling is sneaking up on us again. For the twentieth time.

Inside information tells me that the Fling is supposed to be called the Doune and Dunblane Fling - though what Doune has to do with it, I wouldn't know. Seems to me these Fling fans are keener to inflict this weekend of so-called merrymaking on the good folk of Dunblane - the people of Doune have obviously bribed them to go away and hang their posters and banners up somewhere else.

So here we are, about to have these disgustingly cheery Fling people urging us to get down to the Green, or along to the Vicky Hall, or into the pubs, in a pathetic attempt to have us enjoy ourselves. Who do they think we are ? So dour and miserable that we need a special weekend to cheer us up ? We cheered when Andy Murray came to town - what more do they want from us ?

Worse still. There's an ugly rumour that this year's Fling is going to include a Talent Show. Oh dear, oh very dear. These sadly misguided Fling people actually think that there are people with talent in Dunblane. Really ?

The last dancing dog I saw in the High Street was doing a tango with a lamp post. The last singers I heard were groaning out Christmas carols and I chased them away.

So is there really someone out there who can juggle, or ride a uni-bike, or make me laugh (no chance), or fancies themselves are Dunblane's answer to SuBo ? The only folk with any talent here play tennis. A talent show here ? In Dunblane ? With enough contentants to fill a stage ? Aye right !

‘Will you tell me another story about the olden days in the High Street?’ asked Duncan. Nan’s eyes crinkled in a smile of memory. ‘It’s a bit late she answered – past your bed time’. ‘Please, please, please’ he begged.

‘Well’ she began ‘I do remember one particular day – it was May the 26th 2012’. ‘May the 26th’ interrupted Duncan ‘that’s your birthday’. ‘That’s right’ said Nan ‘I was ten years old. We’d gone to the High Street to get our usual weekly shop – butcher meat, veggies, bread, some beer for Dad (your great granddad) – all the usual stuff . But this was a special day so we also needed to get all the things for the party tea: the hand-made cake mum had ordered from the special cake shop, candles (and candle-holders) for it and party bags for my friends. And because it was my birthday we went into the café, and the woman who ran it gave me a free fairy cake. I can see it now – all pink and frosted with a single candle in the middle. I blew it out and everyone sang happy birthday’.

Duncan was round-eyed. In his experience shops were all gigantic buildings that you had to drive to and were just the same in Dunblane as they were at his aunties in Carlisle and

Swansea. The idea of lots of different little shops, run by the people who actually owned them, who knew your name and gave you treats on your birthday sounded fantastic. But Nan hadn’t finished. ‘When we came out of the café we found the street had been closed to cars and there was music playing; Scotland the Brave as I remember’. Nan hummed a bit of a tune; Duncan loved it when she sang. ‘Then a pipe band came marching along,’ she continued, ‘followed by Captain Jack the stilt-walking  fire-eater, and lots of lovely vintage cars. The shopkeepers all came out to watch. Then we remembered, it was Fling Saturday of course and the fun was just getting underway’.

Nan had told Duncan about the Fling before – it was Dunblane’s very own community festival. He would have loved to go to it. ‘What other things were at the Fling that year he asked?’ Nan thought for a moment and then explained that there was something for every taste: a Jazz and Blues night, salsa dancing in the Victoria Hall, a concert by Scotland’s best band of 2012 called Skerryvore - who had hit the big time with their fusion of roots with rock and funk’. ‘The Skerryvore? asked Duncan, incredulously. His mum and dad had all their downloads and still raved about them.

But Nan was in full flow. ‘And there was all the fun of the fair on the Drying Green: music, sideshows, magic, bunting, lovely homemade food, ice cream and candy floss’. Duncan tried to imagine what it must have been like. ‘Oh and then there was the great last night party – we called it the Festival Club - in the Braeport’, added Nan – ‘more music and a fantastic finger buffet generously provided by Mr Singh’s India Gate. I was allowed to go because it was my birthday weekend and mum got up and sang a song – and everyone sang happy birthday to me again’.

But Duncan wasn’t hearing anymore. He was in a dream; imagining what he would do when he grew up. Adults were always asking him that and now he had an answer. He was going to start a festival and open a shop in the High Street.

Fling Insider

Dunblane Fling – it’s a community thing

April 2012 - It’s a Community Thing.…

Wee Duncan loved the crinkles around his Nan’s eyes. When she smiled – as she often did – her eyes almost disappeared in their folds. Duncan was eight years old and his teacher had set them special homework: everyone had to do their own piece of history; to find out for themselves something about the past. Nan was the obvious person to help. She was soooo old and knew such a lot about the olden days.

Nan had suggested they do something called a ‘field trip’ so they could see things for themselves. This sounded exciting to Duncan, but when she had proposed doing this on the High Street he had protested. ‘No one goes there’, he said, ‘it’s just boring offices and silent doors leading to unseen flats’. ‘Ah’ said Nan, ‘that’s true now, but once it was very different’. So now here they stood, backs to the Cathedral, looking down towards the river.

‘Here at the top end was the butchers’ she explained, ‘back in 2012 when I was your age it was a bustling, cheerful treasure-trove of prize-winning pies, succulent bacon and the most delicious haggis money could buy (home-made of course)’. In Nan’s opinion it had been the best butchers in Scotland (well joint best, along with other the one a few doors down). Two butchers, gasped Duncan to himself, his mind boggling; he’d always thought meat came off the cold shelf, shrink-wrapped in plastic. But he had to keep up with Nan who was now in full flow, remembering the bakers, the (two) electrical shops, the chemist, the two florists, the greengrocer, the delicatessen, the two newsagents…. How could so much have been packed into such a small space?

It wasn’t just about shopping, Nan explained: ’we used to have a great wee festival back then, too. A gala concert, side shows on the Drying Green, stories and clowns. And there was a wonderful parade down this very High Street, which was closed to traffic for the occasion’. ‘Everyone joined in and stuck together’ she went on ‘we had a real community back then – and the High Street, with its small shops run by local people, was at its centre’. She told Duncan that she could still recall her dad laughing so much in one of the greengrocer’s jokes that he dropped all the tomatoes he’d just bought. She’d long forgotten the joke, but the laughter stayed with her. ‘What happened to it all?’ asked Duncan. It seemed very sad that so much had been lost. ‘Supermarkets’ was Nan’s one word answer. ‘They came to Dunblane’ she continued after a few moments silence, ‘offering lots of choice, special offers and long opening hours. We were tempted. We couldn’t resist.’

‘But’, asked ‘Duncan, ‘didn’t people miss the jokes in the greengrocers?’

March 2012 - Ask not what the Fling can do for you…

As the supermarkets and developers circle and the High Street and Holmehill hunker down, these are fell times for we, the denizens of doughty Dunblane. Wider events are upping the anti: the Euro’s dance of death; the banks continuing to behave like greedy toddlers; and the imminent departure of capitalism’s wheels all bode ill. Not to mention the much-heralded cuts. As the Chinese curse has it, we are indeed living in interesting times. Will we be able to retain our identity, our community capacity, power over our own destiny – or even a public toilet? Or will we succumb to the forces of chaos and become just another derivative commuter town, obediently delivering up successive generations of mall-fodder?

No I say it will not be so; the doom-sayers will be bested. For I, Fling Insider, bring tidings of great joy. The Fling is back for its 19th year and stands ready to guide us forward. For our much-loved festival has itself withstood the great trials of these challenging times. It too was threatened by economic collapse (otherwise known as a knock-back from the Big Lottery); a loss of capacity (our illustrious and much-loved Chair was called to higher office) and stormy weather (not geo-political; just the Scottish summer). But we have ridden the bronco and emerged tempered and triumphant from our tribulations. Like Gandalf after his fight with the Balrog, the Fling is now sparkling with promise and potential. Like the new Gandalf, its mission is now clear. It is no longer just the Fling: it is the People’s Fling.

The community itself has been the driving force of these transformative events. The Rotary, the Folk Club, Holmehill Community Buy-out have all joined us at the Alamo. The fight-back starts here. Yes the last the weekend in May will, as ever, brings music, dancing and festivities galore (www.dunblanefling.com). But much more than this, it will be the rallying place for a community under siege by the forces of darkness – but a community with the spirit and talent to fight back. Independence is in the air and I, Fling Insider, hereby declare that the struggle to free Dunblane has begun and the Fling – Our Fling – is in the vanguard.

Vive le Dunblane libre! Vive L’Ecosse!

The Insider

March 2011 - One’s Weekend of Fun

Hola Comrades. Let’s start with a quiz. What magnificent - nae, regal - festivity is taking place in but a few weeks? What iconic cultural happening will bring the community together in a celebration of all that is great about life, love and the human condition? Where will music be raising the rafters, singing and dancing rattling the windows and bunting festooning our very own Drying Green?

No, not the royal wedding. I’m not talking about that elitist hitching south of the border between a young pretender and a D list aristo (you can catch that later on ‘I’m a minor Royal get me out of here’). No, that royal fling is just a pale imitation of the real one: the popular uprising otherwise known as the Dunblane Fling. Eat your hearts out Kate and Wills – the last weekend in May, here in Dunblane, is where the real party action will be this year.

And, in the spirit of perpetual revolution, this, the 18th Fling, is ringing the changes. The people have spoken and the Central Committee has listened:

"Let's have more dancing" a Salsa night led by award winning Salsa Stirling has been laid on.

“It’s all a bit tame for me, I’m into grunge”: Rock by the River – Dunblane’s answer to T in the Park - will give you grunge, along with African funk, blues, thrash, rock and a bit of melodic stuff too; not to mention stunt bikes, side-shows and great eats. And, more music for your ears, entry is free.

“Other festivals have more of a party atmosphere”: new this year, a festival club in the Braeport’s Café-bar where you can see out the last night with live music and haute cuisine from the all-new High Street Cookbook.

“The international market was fab last year, can we have more?”: the market will be here all weekend, so roll up for your continental foods, African fabrics, Parisian jewellery, Indonesian wood carving, Peruvian clothes and much, much more. The only things you won’t find are royal wedding souvenirs.

Hasta La Fling Siempre

Comrade Insider

February 2011 - A comrade’s a comrade for a’ that

Hola Comrades, Fling Insider here. I bring you the latest news from the Fling Situation Room in the Braeport Centre, where planning for Fling 18 is proceeding unabated. And this month we have a first: celebrity endorsement. Forget your X factors and supermodels, we have snaffled none other than Rabbie Burns himself. He paid us a visit last month for the sell-out supper held in his honour.

He got himself planted unco right in the Braeport’s café-bar with a shed-load of drouthy neibors and a plate o’ John Hill’s award winning haggis which he washed doon wi reaming swats, that drank divinely. And there were nae lang dreich speeches, so the minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure.

The chat turned to summer and Rabbie asked about the Fling. He wanted all the details: yes he would be unco happy to put a recipe into the Fling cookbook (www.dunblanefling.com); the jazz and salsa were sure to make the roof and rafters dirl; olives and brie from the French market would be a welcome accompaniment to the chieftain o’ the pudding race; Karen Mathieson – “she is the best and she is vauntie”; Rock by the River: loud would resound mirth and dancing. And oh yes, please could we save him a ticket for the festival club on the last night of the Fling!

The evening ended with a communal recital of Rabbie’s epic tale of a blethering, blustering, drunken blellum whose over-fondness for the pleasures of the flesh led to a run-in with the powers of darkness: Tam O’ Shanter (otherwise known as Tam O’Sheridan).

Rabbie left us with a final endorsement: “Flings may be blest”, he observed, “but you are glorious, o'er a' the ills o' life victorious”

Hasta La Fling Siempre

Comrade Insider

January 2011 - Avanti Popolo, Avanti Fling!

Well I humbly apologise. I, Comrade Insider, your very own campesino, was wrong. I didn’t think the people of Dunblane had it in them. But they have: the Central Committee’s call to arms has been heeded; the people are on the march and Fling 18 is taking off with a vengeance.

There are community groups aplenty signed up for Fling by the River – the Development Trust, Rotary ducks galore, Holmehill, the Allotment and Wildlife Groups. The continental market is going to hot foot it back from la belle France complete with olives, cheese and tartiflette. Local traders are on board with a special edition cookbook which will provide us with the best recipes in Dunblane – all of which can be made from produce bought on our very own High Street. And not to be outdone, the folk from down on the Forth are also mucking in: Stirling Salsa are coming to the Vicci Hall to give us all some hot Latin tuition (and I’m not talking veni,vidi Vicci).

Such has been the response that there are murmurings of making this a two day bash. Saturday’s family friendly Fling by the River is going to joined by an edgier younger brother on the Sunday: current monicker Rock by the River. An afternoon of music featuring local and international artists; watch this space.

And the stars are flocking along. Karen Mathieson (Capercaillie) and her new band booked - complete with baby grand piano, Mr Boom and Sportacus invited back by popular demand and a Jazz night to honour Dunblane’s two late greats Billy Thom and John Ramsbottom. So brothers and sisters of the struggle I can only repeat: I was wrong. The banks might have imploded, universities be on the edge of ruin and the con-dem government be cheerfully stripping the poor of their last few bawbees - but the people of Dunblane march on. We are strong and getting stronger: the People’s Fling will prevail.

Comrade Insider

December 2010 - The People’s Fling

Greetings, fellow citizens of the People’s Republic of Dunblane! It’s Comrade Insider here, back with a peasant’s eye view of the Dunblane Fling. Much has changed since we last conversed in early May - we are indeed, as the Chinese curse has it, living in interesting times. Venal bankers and greedy CEOs have disappeared into the chief wizard’s hat and re-emerged as public sector cuts and the Big Society. Or, to put it another way, the City has snaffled all the cash so from now on we are on our own. If we want a festival we have to do it for ourselves.

Well the Central Committee of the Dunblane Fling thinks you will rise to the occasion. Collective consciousness will flourish, ordinary voices will be heard and the citizens will march forth with banners flying. This, after all, is not any Fling – it is the people’s Fling. (Aye right, I muttered - though not quite loud enough to be minuted.)

So there you have it. The Committee, in its wisdom, has spoken (it was a short meeting) and the Fling is open for business. So this is a call to arms – whether you are nine or ninety, an individual or a community group, a blow-in or a born-here, we want to hear your ideas and welcome you on board.

And the church is broad: music of all sorts (of course), comedy, drama, literature, food and drink, sport – anything goes. Whatever your interests you can make them part of the Fling: the only limits are those of your imagination and energy.

So Next May is going to see the best Fling in its eighteen year history because it is your Fling. The people are on the march.

Hasta la victoria siempre.

Comrade Insider

April 2010 - Positive Thinking (Perhaps)

Okay, I promise: less of the whingeing. Fling Insider has had a deluge of letters, well a few letters...to be honest someone in the Tappit Hen muttered something last night – about these dispatches being too negative. What is to complain about my critic complained? You’ve got Salsa Celtica booked and selling out fast, the Jack Delaney ceilidh band (“no photos – we sell by word of mooth”) signed up and every community group this side of Hadrian’s Wall beating a path to Fling by the River. Then there’s Lazytown, Amy-Zing & Fran-Tastic Singing Workshops and Mr Boom (hot-foot from the moon) for the kids, a continental market (ooh la la!), a smoothy bike and a bevy of beautiful songstresses. So, as the barman said to the horse, why the long face?

Well it’s alright for you, I said, you just have to turn up and enjoy yourself. I have to hold the committee. Those warmhearted souls who freely give of their time in selfless devotion to the good of the community. Aye right! Nine Committee members: ten opinions – ignorance no obstacle. The mood slithering unnervingly between facetious humour peppered with gratuitous one-liners, and moribund malevolence where every opportunity converts instantly into a toxic threat. (My particular favourite: the news that the Big Lottery has given us a generous grant greeted by a querulous “how on earth are we going to spend it?”) And then of course the stock response to any bright new idea: “we tried that before, and it didn’t work”.

But in cheery deference to my reader, I must confess that, despite all, it is kinda fun as the tension mounts, the tickets sell and we realise we are on a winner.

The Fling Insider

March 2010 - Things Get Scary

Hell’s teeth, they’ve done it now. A pure Tommy Cooper moment: the budget blown, “just like that!”…Salsa Celtica, one of the biggest and best on Scottish contemporary music scene are to be this year’s Fling band. Great this crew may be, but the cost is eye-watering. Add in publicity, PA, hall hire and the support act and we may not be in RBS territory - but divine intervention is looking like a good option. Can we persuade the heavenly hosts to shepherd Dunblanians down to the Viccy Hall at least for this one night (or maybe lob a thunderbolt or two at those who stay indoors)? Otherwise it’s panhandling on the Mill Row.

Still that’s voluntary committees for you. Careful consideration, intelligent debate, forthright discussion, insightful opinions – and then a sudden lurch into madness.

But stop! Enough of this lily-livered nonsense! This is what it’s all about: ambitious ideas and bold steps to create a buzz in the community. If Dunblane is going to be up there, we need vision and courage. The sunlit uplands beckon. Where the Blessed Andy can go, so can we.

Anyway, there are always grants to apply for and sponsors to tap. Tesco can be relied upon to provide its customary 50p’s worth for instance (a voucher of course, not cash – but think of the Clubcard points). And there are lots of grants around – you just need a PhD in form filling, a fortnight to spare and ready access to an alchemist’s stone.

But there I go again: so young but so jaundiced. I blame the pressures of staging Glastonbury on the Drying Green. It’s a roller coaster ride and I’m here to make sure you enjoy every queasy, gut-wrenching, white-knuckle, heart-stopping moment.

More anon

Fling Insider

February 2010 - A Fling Insider Bares All

‘Dougie’s no’ sung Caledonia– what are yous gonnae dae aboot it?’ I considered the question for a moment and asked myself how I came to be trying to explain to an angry punter the vagaries of Dougie McLean’s playlist. I also wondered whether my two taekwon-do lessons would enable me to deck him, but instead settled for a placatory ‘I’m sure he will in the second half’ and turned to the woman behind him who wanted to know if the red wine was a merlot or a shiraz. Stifling a ‘at £1 50 a glass you’re bloody lucky it’s wet’ I smiled sweetly, feigned deafness and again asked myself ‘why am I doing this?’

Indeed why have I been doing this for the last seventeen years? That’s more than you get for first degree murder. Well now, dear reader, I have decided to bare all. In the next four issues of the Wire – building up crescendo-like to the great event itself - I will reveal the secrets, the highs and the lows, of staging Dunblane’s answer to Woodstock.

Watch this space.

Fling Insider

June 2010 - It was Big Andy what did it – with a little help from his friends.

Well dear readers, it went like a train (the French TGV sort, not one of Branson’s Vermin jalopies): twelve months of planning, agonising and praying paid off and we got an unforgettable Fling. Olives and paella being munched on the Drying Green in the company of a spaceman, Sportacus and two dozen Liltin’ Lassies; a Latino bacchanal at the Vickie Hall (you never had so much fun with your clothes on); Doune Castle engulfed by a riot of treasure hunting music fans. All this plus the best jazz this side of New Orleans, ceilidhing to make the White Heather Club blush and traditional music sessions to die for (or to, depending on who was singing).

Of course I always said this was a first rate Committee – sensitive, intelligent, far-sighted; who could have doubted their genius?* It was clear from the outset that this was a unique group of very special human beings led by an inspirational man (the eponymous Big Andy) – a true son of Wallace and the Bruce. He marched us into battle fearlessly smashing those old foes: bad weather and Saturday night telly.

And you, the good burghers of Doune and Dunblane, came across as only you can. Individuals, community groups and traders, you gave it your all. So thanks: it is you who make the Fling what it is. With due deference to M&S (ta for the vino Sue) this isn’t just the Fling – it’s the Doune and Dunblane Fling.

And now, dear readers, I must bid you adieu. I have done what I promised and given you an inside glimpse into staging Glyndebourne-by-the-Allan – warts and all. If I haven’t put you off, why not join us in helping organise next year’s event? We really need somebody to keep an eye on Big Andy.

The Fling Insider

*regular readers will note that a spell in the brig can do strange things to the mind

May 2010 - Dunblane: The final frontier.

These are the voyages of the Fling Committee: Its 17 yr mission to explore strange new festivals; to seek out exciting entertainers and world class stars; to boldly bring them to Doune and Dunblane.

Captain’s Log Stardate 27-30-2010

The last weekend in May is approaching like a photon torpedo. I call down to the engine room for more speed: give it all you’ve got! Several Scotties point out we ain’t got much and all the warp factor has been used up in the Vice-chair’s jokes. Then the intercom crackles – its Starfleet Command (AKA Stirling Council) – demanding evidence of public liability insurance; inter-galactic regulation 423b subsection (ii) demands it. Back snaps my reply “we can manage the liability bit, and one out of three ain’t bad”. (It’s my scientific training; I’ve always got a ready retort.)

But what’s this – a dozen dark smudges have appeared on the screen approaching from the galaxy Alpha Centauri. A question to the computer and my worst fears are confirmed – it is the forces of Indifferentz. These are a sinister race whose mission is to snuff out fun and quash enthusiasm wherever it appears: jazz from an old mucker of Louise Armstrong (“so what?), Sporticus and Mr Boom (“huh”), Doune Castle extravaganza (“boring”), Salsa Celtica (“but Strictly’s on, on Saturday night”), Jack Delaney (“can’t be bothered”). Yes the Indifferentz are a frightening menace.

But I remain calm; we have a secret weapon: this is not any event, it is the Doune and Dunblane Fling – unique in the solar system. The forces of Indifferentz will never even find us - as Spock points out: “it’s a festival, Captain, but not as they know it”.

PS The Fling Insider is in the brig. Previous columns are now the subject of legal action and can be viewed below.

The Fling Insider

May 2012 - It’s a wonderful life.…