It’s been a weird last few days has it not, during this, the continuing incremental wind-down to the dissolution of the dysfunctional Union?
Historians will look back in hindsight and surely shake their head as they consider the complex topical questions of our current time, questions like what the actual feck is going on? Or, who the actual feck knows what’s going on? Or even, why the actual feck is this complete madness going on?
Events started as they were going to continue the other day when wee John Bercow, the Speaker, between his regular five minutely appeals for “Order, Order” in the House of Commons, was forced to suspend a session of the House.
This followed new Brexit Minister Raab C Brexit, who bears an uncanny resemblance in many ways to Rick Mayall’s satirical TV politician Alan B’stard, getting up off his forked tail and on to his gnarled hoofs to address the House. Raab waxed lyrically about the fabled Brexit white paper that his government were bringing forth to clear the path to pulling the plug of the UK’S economic life support system right out of the wall socket, and faced a barrage of hecklers suggesting that he was talking about a document nobody other than the authors and the government had seen.
A pretty important document you would think as the clock ticks down to Brexit doomsday. Cue wee John shutting down the debate, and scenes of flying copies of the aforementioned white paper being hurled around the chamber like bog-roll and streamers at an Argentinian Cup final. A full five minutes the Speaker allowed for Members of the House to peruse the contents of the document before carrying on the debate. I don’t know about you but I don’t think that is any way to sensibly run a parliament, unless it’s in a movie starring John Cleese, Michael Palin and Eric Idle of course, do you?
Then we had the visitation to our shores from the Great Disruptor. As welcome as a kidney stone, the lumbering narcissist of the free world rode into town astride Airforce One, with his body double spending the weekend flying high on a string over various parts of London and Scotland as a diversion in case of any trouble.
On the way in he left the current UK Prime Minister without a name to call her own in an interview with the dodgiest of dodgy red-tops, only to then do a complete about turn the next day when faced with a joint press conference standing beside that same person. He then went on to claim that what the dodgy red-top reported was “fake news’ even though they produced actual recorded evidence of him criticising Theresa May.
He further done her in with a set of kitchen knives between the shoulder blades by promoting the idea that the ever-sleekit Bullingdon Club boy Boris Johnson would make a fine Prime Minister. He’s always liked him and he’s a great guy is Boris. See Trump and diplomacy, he’s right good at it said no one ever. I can’t work out if all of this is part of the plan or just that he’s a muttonhead.
His complete disregard, and in fact insulting behaviour, towards his hosts put Theresa May’s leadership under yet another spotlight and she was found weak again, as she has been found previously on many occasions during her premiership. I’ll say this for her though, she is resilient. Although she still crazily insists that no deal with the EU is better than a bad deal, whatever a bad deal is in her mind. In mine it means anything which leaves the UK outside of receiving any of the benefits of being a member of the EU.
Before jetting off to what he considers his personal fiefdom, ‘Skatland’, the big galoot had the opportunity to take tea with wee Lizzie Windsor of London and experience a bit of pomp.
Now I know the wee auld dear may not be in what you would call the usual worn down health of many of her advanced age, never having had to scrub a front step or work eight hours a day in a paper-mill before coming home to feed her man and the weans their dinner, but anyway putting that to one side she is due the respect of any wee auld dear in her nineties.
We know too that Trump likes to hold hands with females he meets with, and may well have had to be reminded (several times) by his flunkies not to kiss Elizabeth the First of Scotland, or hold her hand, but the scene which unfolded as the ceremonial inspection of the Guard was about to take place was like a dark comedy.
The poor wee wummin was struggling to get up over the curb on to the grass.Did it bother him, did he notice? Naw. Then, once she’d safely negotiated her way on to the grass he walks away and leaves her. Whereupon she comes up one side of him, then the other, like trying to pass a white van, before the eejit stops dead still in front her, with still no idea where she is, almost causing the wee auld dear tae collide with his not unsubstantial backside and walk up the back of his Davey Crockett hat.
I’ll tell you what, she showed great patience with him there. Her predecessors burned down Washington for less. If it was my auld gran, bless her wee soul, in that situation, and she was seven stone soaking wet, she’d have cawed the legs away from him in front of her with her walking stick and he’d have been chewing on a gub full of expensive royal turf whilst staring at his puffy reflection close up in the shiny bull of a Welsh guardsman’s boot. According to Donald afterwards wee Liz is a beautiful person both inside and out. I’m sure she reciprocates.
Then it was off to Turnberry for golf, golf, more golf, a touch of aerobatics from Greenpeace (kudos indeed) and a thousand and one imaginative, some hard-hitting, some belly laugh funny, banners and chants of ordinary people around Scotland, with hearts, with consciences, with humanity, with love a major motivator of what makes them tick, all bound together with a common goal, to protest against this dog-whistler of far right-wing hate, to make it known throughout the world that he is not welcome in Scotland. Someone really should make a photographic collage of the banners. It would be worth seeing.
Oh, and where was that dangerous nasty separatist nationalist divider of people and breaker-up of precious enduring Unions, Nicola Sturgeon, whilst all of this was going on? She was promoting love, tolerance , diversity, respect and understanding at the Pride event in Glasgow.
With things the way they are folks if you don’t get it now you are never going to get it. Scotland must leave this Mad Hatters Tea Party behind. It really must. Independence is the only way out of this.