Shut up Scotland. Shut up. Be quiet. You are babbling amongst yourselves again in that nonsensical guttural slang that you grunt at each other in. You are a loathsome minority. It’s oh so tiresome. Your parochialism is dull and boring.
Listen to your countrymen and women. They’re alright Jack. Strong Proud Scots. They’ve got it right. They admire our long held common history. Strength and security. Oh look, how cute! Pippa Middleton’s poodle in a kilt!
How could you possibly survive? The clearances were inevitable. Shipbuilding got to be cheaper elsewhere. Here, have a contract for navy frigates………only joking!
Ravenscraig needed to be demolished. You always wanted to work as a casual shelf-stacker in a supermarket, didn’t you?
Did we tell you that our oil, which you store for us, is running out tomorrow, and then again the next day, or is it the day after that?…… Mug punters.
You have no mandate because we tell you you have no mandate. It’s as simple as that. We decide, you don’t. It’s our type of democracy, not yours.
56 out of 59 MPs at Westminster? So what. They are powerless. Can’t you count? Oh, and did we mention we were reducing the number of constituencies soon? That will hurt you more than it will hurt us.
You live in a region of us, a region we have exploited for centuries, and to an extreme for the last 50 years. But you are too collectively weak and divided to recognise that.
Such a strong devolved government we allowed you, control of almost 15% of your own destiny, and the powers only to tie yourselves in knots, and make yourselves unpopular.
Our beneficence knows no bounds. You saw that we gave in when you spotted that we were trying to relieve you of 7 billion pounds as part of the settlement. How nice of us.
We tell you we love you, and you believe it. We tell you we would be heartbroken if you decided to leave our patronising embrace. In truth we would be nothing without you, and the gifts we unburden you of.
We’ll just keep laughing at you, marginalising you. To mock you we’ll keep printing pictures of your ridiculously atavistic blue-painted faces. Coochycoo Bravehearties. A pathetic lot.
Your own perspective on news and current affairs? Why would you need that? Does Cheshire get to have a perspective on world events? No. Then why should you? London knows best… shhhhh.
A mandate to have another squabble amongst yourselves about leaving us, where we’d only end up again having to frighten those who might initially lose a quid? You are having a laugh. Shut up Jock. Our patience with your insolence is wearing thin.
Instead, come with us to experience an exciting renaissance, the return of our empire. This Sceptred Isle can be great once more, in pounds and ounces. Come with us to Brexitopia.