Unprecedented levels of engagement

I scratch the dandruff off my increasingly thinning-haired napper each time I regularly read what seems like the same two conflicting reports in the media.

On the one hand we’re told by the devolved governments of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, having been promised ‘a genuine role’ in the process, that they are being kept almost wholly in the dark by Theresa May about the British government’s comprehensive plans, worked out on the back of a lilliputian’s fag packet, for Britain’s exit from the European Union.

On the other, we have the London Prime Minister and her life support crew, including our own dear Viceroy, Mr air-miles, a man who will travel anywhere in the world just to hold a press conference to tell the people of Scotland bad news, David Mundell, all telling us about the remarkable co-operation and ‘ unprecedented levels of engagement ‘ between the various parties involved.

Doesn’t make sense, does it? How can this be? How can there be such differing perceptions of the outcome of the same conversations? Who is telling the porkies?

Then it struck me, eureka, the light bulb moment. There is an explanation. It’s the nervous cough!

Right from day one, and the first contact between the brand new shiny buoyant Daily Mail bolstered then reincarnated Margaret Thatcher zombie and the First Minister of Scotland, the visit to Bute Hoose, the photo-shot in front of the duel saltire flags, then the next contact, this time in a Glasgow hotel, away from any possibility of the same point being made twice by way of imagery, a meeting where the Praying Mantis-like figure started to look a bit quesy in the presence of Nicola Sturgeon, it’s been gathering psychosomatic pace.

Disaster after disaster, resignations, foreign diplomats pointing at her and giggling, wealthy far right wing public school Neo-fascist colleagues leaving hate notes in her locker and spiking her champagne with laxatives, finding herself chasing around a forest in Scotland looking for pixies with the world’s most enthusiastic tank commander, and then chapping the unanswered doors of the villagers she still has locked up to hear her five hundredth rendition of the ‘Strong and Secure’ mantra in the local scout hall for the benefit of the TV cameras, election disaster, more laughing Europeans in suits, the anticipated feeling of the cold steel of a political skelp between the shoulder blades, more scandal, porn, further resignations, sexual innuendo, oops we only just noticed that our behaviour may have fallen short of what it should be, covert meetings, rogue or otherwise, with unpopular atrocity implicated states who should know better. It’s like trying tae herd unruly posh and nouveau posh cats, therefore the nervous cough is getting worse.

The keynote speech at her party conference for example. An audience straining, in between ducking tiny globules of coughed up breakfast muesli and chamomile tea, to hear the sage words of their leader, bemused, confused and clapping loudly in the intervals where her paroxysms of hacking seemed to recede for a moment. A room full of sweaty bilious hungover Tories, bewildered unable to comprehend their figurehead’s message. One rattling burly Buckinghamshire party worker was heard to say to a colleague ” Did she just say the words bum-fluffed golfing strawberries just then?”

Hence we can then work out what’s happened, where the misunderstanding has occurred, and identify the tactics that have been deployed during the JMC meetings between the devolved governments and May’s circus performers to discuss and co-operate on planning for Brexit.

Initially, at the early meetings of the JMC that she would attend herself, the Prime Minister right on cue, following introductions, and upon catching sight of the leader of Scotland’s government, would unexplainably burst into uncontrollable coughing, mumbling as best she could a semi-prepared statement that no one could decipher through her wretched convulsions. The room full of confused delegations from Cardiff, Belfast and Edinburgh would then be addressed by their own various equivalent Lord High Commissioner Mundell who, looking sternly across the table would say only ” I agree wholeheartedly with the Prime Minister”. This would result in many shaken heads around the table, and the occasional fantasy about shaking throats, but it worked a treat.

This ploy tended to act well as a delaying tactic for a while until the London government in their arrogance finally gave up all cosmetic pretence that they were even the slightest bit interested in trying to convince the people of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland that their views mattered and would be respected, by scheduling further meetings sporadically, which did not require the attendance of Mrs May, who was busy being laughed at elsewhere.

However there is no truth in the rumour that at the opening of the British Irish Council Meeting in Jersey yesterday Damien Green tried to pull a similar trick by presenting a pre-recorded speech from a rasping coughed Prime Minister May to the delegates via his laptop. He hasn’t got it back yet, allegedly.