A sackload of chancers


It is a rare occasion when I find myself putting out two blog posts in the one day, (and it’s still early yet) but sometimes, just sometimes it needs to happen, if only to stop me chewing the furniture in angst.

Dearie me. What about yon cosy establishment, and their rituals, eh? My goodness, they love to protect their own, don’t they?

I nearly spluttered soggy rice crispies all over the cat this morning when up on my Twitter display popped the bold Jackson Carloan, aw red-faced and smarmy-looking, bowing and scraping before the next in line on the hereditary human-god-emperor/ess production line (a title he looks like he’ll inherit around the time of the next sighting of Halley’s Comet in 2062) to receive a CBE (Comanchero of the Brittas Empire) for, wait for it, stop giggling at the back, “his political and public service.”

What? Public service? What public service? Has he been doing fantastic great works of selfless charity on the quiet, soothing the worries of the thousands of folk his party have subjected to Universal Credit? Has he perhaps been volunteering at the weekends at one of the burgeoning Foodbanks the withering policies he and his cronies political ideology created?Has he even walked his ageing next door neighbour’s dug roon the park?

Naw. Since Ruthie, Tank Commander, decided she fancied moving out the hot seat at the front of the Tory benches at Holyrood to consider her next career move, he’s been a wee poster boy for their preeeeeecccccious Union. Willing to stand up at FMQ’s every week, talk mince about how great it is tae be under British rule, and how bad it would be to govern our own country, and then get his big beamer of a fizzer handed back tae him on a plate by Nicola Sturgeon on just about every single occasion.

Incredible stuff. It’s the British way, serve the masters and you shall be repaid. Parcel o Rogues right enough.

Talking of Ruth Davidson and career moves, I note the state broadcasting propaganda machine is reporting that Downing Street is about to nominate the bold yin for a seat in the ermine cloaked Lords.

Jeez, who could have predicted that outcome? Just about everybody.

Yes it appears, alongside former annoyances tae the Brexit Borg, who refused to assimilate, ex-chancellors Philip Hammond and auld Ken Clarke, who have been vocal against the current madness of the rightwing cabinet, and are to be elevated to the Lords basically to shut them up, that Ruthster is to join them. Well played Ruth. I’m sure that was in the plan.

The former Viceroy of Joy, who now doesn’t spend any of his time in Myanmar telling sweaty rooms full of rubber planters that the people of Scotland don’t want an independence referendum, Davey Mundell, will be pleased.

Patronage, cronyism, bias, jobs for the boys (and tank drivers) inherited hereditary power and vast wealth. One day, hopefully soon, Scotland will escape all of that.

#Independence is normal. Being governed by another country is not.

One thought on “A sackload of chancers

  1. Honest to God, they make me sick. There they will sit on their collective fat erkies, in their stupid fancy dress costumes, collecting their benefits for simply turning up. In the meantime, the queues grow ever longer at the food banks for whose creation we have the Tories beloved austerity to thank. There is no social justice in the UK! Grrrrrr!

    Liked by 2 people

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