Sgian-dubh

Genuine posts with horses, not selfies and the ladies face constantly in view

Genuine posts with actual information

Genuine posts with actual footage of what goes on

A real address to know where it is

A proper link to her services and contact phone number and ways of booking

This woman runs a professional business and service and has only 1411 followers and been doing it for years and yet another Instagram acc with no credentials, website, booking info, location or way to contact or any evidence of actually working has almost 4000 followers. I wonder why that is

This coming July 4th is a special one as Americans celebrate 250 years of being Traitors to the Crown. Sadly, I can't take Nevis to the United States to celebrate that… or can I?

In Runnymede, UK, there is an acre of land that was given to the USA by her majesty Liz 2 after the assassination of John F Kennedy, where now stands this memorial. As the sign says, once you pass through the gate you are on American soil.

Okay, technically it is more complicated than that - if you committed a crime here you would be subject to British laws and not US ones - but it is good enough for me to declare that Nevis is now a jet setter. He is an international bird of mystery!

bbcradioscot

There’s no place like home for Sam Heughan!⁣ ⁣ Listen to more from his chat on #RadioScotlandAfternoons on BBC Sounds.⁣

In this particular context, related to S narrating his 🏍️ride from 'the South of Ireland to Scotland', the gesture clusters in rapid succession tell the real story.

This is the opening. The questions were probably given in advance by the BBC production team, so he knew he had to mention that particular talking point: he loves bikes, he often does it, yada yada and then - of course, the recent trip. So my not so naive question would be: if this is such a dear memory, related to his most recent paramour - as he wants to make believe, anyways - why does he rub his face and left ear? Both are typical self-soothing gestures of someone feeling pressured and fearing the narration will spill something unwanted. I also noted the speed of the words' delivery and it is rapidly increasing. Now, this is a typical lying pattern which is impossible to control. Simply put, the quicker he's done with that part, the better he would feel afterwards.

'I am starting the story. I do not want to be a part of it. I am blinking, because closing my eyes, even for a fraction of a second soothes me and removes me from the lie I am going to repeat'.

'Must. Not. Spill.'

Eyeroll from left to right. This is not genuinely remembering something. This is constructing - or in this case: reconstructing - a given, non organic memory trope:

[Source: https://www.psychologistworld.com/body-language/eyes]

Again, a grounding gesture. The line has been delivered and the symmetrical eyeroll - this time downwards, from right to left - denotes either submission or shyness. He can relax now and babble some more.

It passed. It passed like a kidney stone, but it passed.

Anything but the factual truth, where the lapse of time dedicated to the trip does not fit with the narrative. At all.

Every time another tiny piece of the game drops, whether from them directly or through their favorite blogger, the whole fandom jumps to attention. And yes, most of it is mockery, frustration, and second-hand embarrassment, but still. Traffic is traffic. Bad publicity is still publicity.

And that’s the sad part, because you can see the engagement slowly fading. Not all at once, but in little drops. Tumblr has become pretty boring. Sam is basically in permanent sales mode, and aside from gossip, there isn’t much to discuss. Caitriona only really pops up when she has a new project to promote, and it works for her. She doesn’t need an army of fans constantly maintaining her business for her.

It feels like Sam may be heading down a road many male leads from long-running shows have walked before, especially the ones who were part of a major romantic pairing. They start as heartthrobs, with tons of female fans and far more attention than the actresses beside them. Then the show ends, the slow fade begins, and you blink. Suddenly twenty years have passed, and their career is mostly small projects that keep a reduced fanbase alive, living off the nostalgia of the one role that made them famous, going from convention to convention, while the actress beside them is collecting awards and booking better roles.

And while that may work for some of those actors, and maybe it’s enough for them, Sam has built a very expensive little empire that is supposed to be funded by that same fanbase. But he isn’t doing much to expand his audience. Not through different acting roles, not through his alcohol business, not through his books. He has put all his eggs in one basket.

So maybe that explains, in some way, these pathetic attempts to revive a sleepy fandom.

Or maybe not.

Who loathe the public glare and flashing light,

Yet somehow drop a hint about a future wife

In every anonymous dm you write.

You crave the shadows, or so you both claim,

While whispering secrets to the Tumblr news,

An actor trapped inside the web of fame,

And she, who tracks her paparazzi views.

"Please respect our privacy," you sigh,

Then post a blurry photo of a ring,

With captions like: “The future’s drawing nigh…”

And “Change is such a beautiful, hidden thing.”

Since low-key modesty is your true art,

And keeping secrets is your greatest pride,

Here are some quiet ways to start

To let the world know she will be your bride:

Skywrite the date in neon pink.

Keep it subtle.

Leak a pda tape to the press.

Blame a hacker.

Rent a billboard in Times Square.

Just a small one.

Hire a flash mob for the gym.

Act surprised.

Tell a talk show "no comment."

Wink three times.

Post an ultrasound (no matter what part of the body) on TikTok.

Filter it heavily.

Go forth, sweet hermits of the silver screen,

And hide your love inside a stadium roar.

We promise not to look at what is seen,

Until your next exclusive tells us more.

📍Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh - Scotland

Source: siobhan_mackenzie IGS (posted on 30 June 2026)

A garden party took place at the Royal Palace on Edinburgh yesrerday evening. The tartan designer had posted her invitation on her account a few hours earlier.

So some people took this opportunity to network. Others, perhaps not so much?

So far, there’s no indication that at least one of a tiny distillery’s executives from the south of Scotland was invited or attended… 🤷‍♀️

She scrolls the depths of Tumblr's pit,

And weeps at every scathing hit.

Then runs to him, her famous beau,

To put on a defensive show.

"A Story, quick! Defend my name!

Tell them I’m sweet, dispel the blame!"

She begs him for a glowing post,

Because she needs to be loved most.

He sighs and taps the glowing screen,

To paint her as a saint serene.

But while he posts the polished spin,

The whole world sees the farce within.

No filter hides the desperate ploy,

A fabricated PR toy—

Where all can see, both far and wide,

The hollow act she tries to hide.

For everyone sees right through the fragile act,

Her thirst for love is a well-documented fact.

The more she begs for digital applause,

The more the internet dissects her flaws.

And no amount of Stories he can share,

Will ever make smart people truly care.

When the facts are uncomfortable, the messenger becomes the target…

I've been following @bat-cat-reader for years, but I've finally had enough of the constant posts about Sam's beard.

Seriously, grow up—that goes for that blog and all the people who are clearly just running second accounts of the same thing.

You're still pushing the same narrative you've already tried to sell before. Enough already. Sam isn't the idiot you're trying to paint him as, and neither Sam nor Cait are saints. Come up with a new story, because the last one failed, and this one is failing too.

La elegancia consiste en saber cuándo callar y no todos nacimos con ese don y a la prueba me remito. Me encantaría darte la razón, pero entonces estaríamos los dos equivocados y por eso mismo y para ahorrarte malos ratos, estás bloqueada 👋

Elegance lies in knowing when to stay silent, and not everyone is born with that gift—as you've so helpfully demonstrated.

I'd love to agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong. And for that very reason, and to spare you any further disappointment, I'm blocking you 👋

And she's been blocked for ages, now.

Sam, at this point I honestly don’t know if you’re a complete idiot or an evil genius, but that story was genuinely the funniest thing you’ve given us in weeks.

She grips the handlebars with frantic dread,

The massive iron frame weighs tons, she said.

She tries to lift the beast, but it outweighs

The flimsy Hollywood romance she plays.

Her boots slip upon the dusty floor,

She cannot balance this machine of war.

It tilts, it leans, her muscles start to strain,

A heavy metal source of public pain.

The actor revs his engine, ready to depart,

While hundreds pounds of steel keep her far apart.

She drops the 'biker vibe' before she even starts,

Crushing her ego and her lying heart.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how urban legends begin😂

lady_tm_777

till buzzing from our inaugural @ridegalloway event last week!🤘 🏍️

Huge thank you to everyone who attended and our incredible guests and weekend entertainment, celebrating the best of the South West of Scotland! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 @devincassonmusic@combat_international@motorcyclelawscotland@dgbloodbikes@dglifemag@creetown_fc#samheughan#ridegalloway