DIVE, DIVE, DAVE

SOMEWHAT AS A METAPHOR FOR BRITAIN ITSELF, we have the interesting spectacle of our “top” nuclear submarine stuck on a shingle bank off the Isle of Skye and being filmed and photographed by holidaymakers and other persons jollying about while enjoying themselves in the miserable Celtic sea-water-drenched air that is often called the late Scottish summer.

THERE MUST BE SOME REASON FOR SPENDING ONE’S money on holiday in Scotland, of course, and, as I discovered as a youngster, it is not the weather, and certainly not the heritage, most of which is crumbling around us. Yet there is always the chance, in Loch Ness at least, of seeing the emerging of a megalithic behemoth bubbling to the surface in a photographers’ heaven.

THOSE WHO MAY HAVE BELIEVED THEIR LUCK had turned yesterday were – alas! – sadly informed of the contrary as the day and the wee drams of whisky went on. This behemoth was in fact HMS Astute, the 7,800 tonne nuclear submarine that is longer than the average football pitch (and is pictured above). It weighs more than 1,000 London (double-decker) buses and is capable of spending 25 years under the water without any need for refuelling, thus being able to go around the earth six times without any Russians seeing it. Neither does it need to touch the surface to take on oxygen, as it has the capacity to “de-oxydate” sea water and make its own oxygen for its crew of happy chaps and ladies who have presumably volunteered to spend the rest of their lives playing computer games and having sex in cramped spaces with people who do not wash often, like an extending of their student days.

UNFORTUNATELY, YESTERDAY, it seems that a shrimp managed to get itself entwined around the 32 billion pound engine, and the submarine, which “would be totally invisible” to the enemy, had to be dragged into port by the tug boat owned by Mr Jock “Galore” McGuffin and his twin sons Jock Jr. and Cain McGuffin. Afterwards, so I am told, a pleasant evening was spent in “The Kilted Clot”, the local pub in Kyle of Lochalsh, where there were trebles all round.