I stay strictly away from the internal slightly smaller ‘p’ politics of what was, what is, and what will be, the Yes Movement and the main political party which advocates the movement’s views.
That being said I am very disappointed to hear that any discussion of possible alternatives to hoping Boris Johnson allows us to have a referendum, and specifically the Plan B supported by Angus Brendan MacNeil MP and Inverclyde Councillor Chris McEleny, are not to be debated at the upcoming virtual SNP conference, again.
It has just been released that yet another poll, the umpteenth in a row, predicts a solid victory for those in favour of independence in Scotland, unprecedented in modern political times, yet the political party who we expect to lead us through the gate to self-government are still wedded to some sort of pie-in-the-sky idea that as each overwhelming demonstration of the electoral democratic deficit takes place at the ballot box the pressure will become so unendurable that those our forbears deemed to allow the power to have the ability to provide us with their permission to act on our own collective will, or not, will somehow capitulate to our request.
David Cameron only allowed the 2014 referendum because all research, polling and sovereignty advice suggested that there was no chance Yes would win. Yet see how far along the road the Yes debate came during that campaign.
Do the SNP hierarchy and the NEC seriously think that as numbers grow and polls provide continuing strong evidence of the strength of support for independence that Cummings clown show circus of Johnson and Gove et al will decide it’s a good idea to grant permission for a section 30 order, really?
That’s the rubber-faced Gove started his recently heralded programme of deflection, confusion and propagandising with a letter to the ever-suffering Mike Russell bemoaning that Scotland’s government are not coming to the party on the preparations for the post-transition EU brave new little world of isolationist Britain, they are failing to attend vital meetings and are not providing vital statistical data for Westminster consideration.
Like an extract straight from the Trump playbook Gove has just utilised the examine the real facts of the situation of the issue you wish to pronounce upon technique and then claim very loudly that the exact opposite of the facts is in fact true., the alternative facts. Do it with a straight face, reinforce it, and allude to those you are proselytising to that they somehow should already know this, even though nobody has a clue what it is that he rabbiting on about, and thinks he’s been at the marching powder again.
Look back at the history of this. A big red, white and blue Brexit means Brexit strong and stable, the Germans will capitulate because they need us tae but their motors, the day after we leave they’ll be crawling after us looking for a deal, clusterbourach.
Ignored, dismissed, shouted down, sworn at and dog whistled in the Commons, learning of important crucial decisions being made on our behalf, even though we didn’t as a country want to leave in the first place, by watching the teatime news, sitting through meetings with various nonentity British nationalist bumbling little England career politicians who had no clue of their remit or an eye for detail for the massive complexity that Brexit actually is, or even an inclination to find out, including a steadily more myopic onanist, unseated from his role by a routine check of his government assigned laptop.
There are copies to this day I believe of the Scottish Government document of 2016 “Scotland’s Place in Europe” still haudin up the legs of wobbly desks in Whitehall or cut intae squares by the ranks of lower level staff of the horde of private sector consultants sookin the arse out of the public purse before they found a new source of sustenance via Covid disaster planning, for shiny bog roll.
It would be fairly easy to chronologically detail the numerous slights, underhand moves, insults and attempts at a power grabs that Theresa May and now the cast of Dominic Cummings Potty Time have inflicted on the government of Scotland, Scotland’s elected members at Westminster, and by association the people of Scotland, who democratically selected these individuals to represent their views. Many of us have been writing about it for years. Gove is dreaming, and he’s hoping the Scottish electorate have the collective memory skills of Bob the Goldfish.
Dream on. Keep talking Mikey. we’ll just keep on growing in number. Independence is normal. It will be ours.
What is Alister Jack’s function? A man rumoured to be of such soporific value that he once fell asleep himself whilst making a speech in the parliamentary chamber, he is an individual whose very presence in a rural or industrial area causes heavy machinery in a five mile radius to automatically shut itself down. He makes Holyrood’s James Kelly MSP look dynamic. What’s he for?
In days of not so yore us many advocates of constitutional normality for our country had Davy Mundell tae play with, the Viceroy of Joy, the Fluffmeister, the Secretary of State Against Scotland, prone tae a dash for the airport if even half an awkward question was anticipated as heading his way, he’d be off to Venezuela or Miramar toot sweet to tell sweat-filled rooms of bewildered fruit growers or rubber planters that nobody wants another referendum, we had one in 2014 and the separatistas signed up to not asking for another one again until the next sighting of Halley’s Comet.
He was a big spongy obsequious sook to his London masters, and still is from a much restricted platform, but at least he was a great source of material for us commentators of the ridiculous.Prone tae a red coupon when caught out being ambiguous and evasive, as he frequently was, about almost anything to do with the constitutional question, Mundell could be relied upon to do or say something worth taking the pan out of on at least a weekly basis, but this guy, he’s paint drying, kettle boiling stuff. Dull doesn’t go near enough towards covering it.
Maybe it’s a cunning plan. They intend to bore us into submission. The will for self-determination will wilt on the vine of a five minute Sunday lunchtime state broadcaster interview with the current symbolic representative of the government of the country that governs us in our country. We’ll hear his monotone words and just peel off, scatter, melt away back into our lives the way they were when John Prescott used to dance like your Granda at a steak pie wedding to “Things can only get better.”
Appointed because he is an ultra Brexiteer, when wee Davey clearly wisnae quite so enthusiastic about economic and cultural suicide (resulting in him getting his jotters) and the fact that apparently his country gaff is right convenient for weekend Tory ned boys heading north for a few days killing other species of life on the planet, in between voting tae starve weans and setting fire tae fifty pound notes in front of Big Issue sellers, Jack is a classic throwback to position and patronage.
His role is to do nothing other than continually promote the views of a government that democratically and geographically does not represent the people of Scotland (when their media arm line him up to do so) have a moan about anything that’s doesn’t meet with that agenda, including bitching at the Scottish Government when they choose to address the current global pandemic in even the slightest different way to the clown shoe Cabinet team he shares a meeting table with in Downing Street, or ludicrously, when Land of Hope and Glory, Rule Britannia and Jerusalem didnae get an airing at a Proms in the Park event in Glasgow a couple of years ago, and otherwise sit back and enjoy the status and the fancy new office building. I’m not one for Tories, but even Fluffy, on occasion, was better than that.
I wonder if there is a prominent role for him being considered in this latest, and yet another, Unionist propaganda unit that we’ve all heard about in the media over the last few days. A unit set up specifically by the least Scottish Scottish person I can think of, Michael Gove, using tax-payers money, to try and counter act Scotland’s democratic journey to self-government. Time will tell. His charisma will surely stifle our hope, not.
No’ content with spending fortunes on contracts for made up shipping companies with no ships, vast quantities of PPE from their mates who have never produced PPE before but quite liked the idea of a huge cash injection during a pandemic, as long as they don’t have to compete with actual producers of PPE for the contracts, leaking squillions on consultants fees to produce reports and recommendations which say yes, things are bad, they are really really bad, they are feckin as bad as bad Bob the bad man fae the Badlands, can we have our fee now please, and then stealing the very food out of the mouths of thousands of poverty-stricken weans in England quoting some weird Trump-like conspiracy that parents on the bones of their arses are trading school dinner vouchers for drugs, they’ve just had to take it that one step further. One stage further.
Michael Gove, an individual so rubber in features that his Spitting Image caricature looks mair human than he does, a creature known to be fond of a mind-altering imbibage by various means, famously featured when he was caught on camera leaning on the Speakers nest in the Commons whilst little pretty pink elephants danced the Macarena roond his bewildered coupon, is forming a gang.
He’s forming a gang, at tax payers expense, to put down the butterfly insurrection that is Scotland’s journey to its democratically-willed destination of independence.
What? Yet more propagandists, a specialised team, this time you are paying for them, employed to circulate negativity about the perfectly normal and healthy existence of self-sovereignty, sucking the life out of hope, whilst playing up tinned haggis labelled with a big phoatie of Big Ben, Bridges to Belfast built over sunken stores of tens of thousands of pounds of Second World War explosives, space satellite launch stations in Sutherland, Tunnocks teacakes and future theme parks based on alternative history revisionism by over-dramatic pretendy historians who are fond of trolling their countryfolk simply because they believe in their fellow Scots abilities to govern for themselves, calling us things like ‘ a cancer’. That’s not nice, even for those of us who thankfully haven’t been struck by that awful curse.
Imagine the furore if the shoe was on the other foot, and the Scottish Government started using public money to further the cause for self-determination. We’d never hear the end of it.
Stick at it Michael. You are doing a grand job making the case for independence for us. This development will only help solidify our rightful case.
So there we have it. There is just never a situation where they can be trusted, our ‘betters’, our lords and masters who haunt the chambers of the Palace of Westminster.
As we now all know, us chasers of constitutional normality for Scotland, us seekers of the ability to choose a government from our own country who have our priorities at the forefront of their every policy and decision, a ‘leaked’ memo prepared by yet another consultancy firm, benefitting from the continuing and longstanding cosy pals strategy of draining public money into the private sector, would suggest the Tories are in squeaky bum mode about the inevitable electoral juggernaut which is due to be unleashed once the stoor clears over the Holyrood Elections in late spring next year.
In May the oft used term ‘Democratic Deficit’ will be writ larger than any time before, apart possibly from the heady early days of the election of 56 advocates of self-government Scottish Westminster MPs out of a possible 59 MPs following the wholesale betrayal of all of the promises, vows and pleadings made prior to the winter of 2014.
The crux of the memo seems to be along the lines of ‘Quick, think of something else to give them to placate them. The Scots are a bit slow and docile, so make them some more promises, devolve some stuff, like the regulation of gas lamp lighting, the audit function control for the painting of fishing boats under the length of 5 metres, Tarot Card reader registration, or maybe give them access to a partially devolved state broadcaster by giving them control of the revenue raised from licence subscriptions for black and white TVs, that sort of thing.
Make them feel loved and important. Bring the sweaties back in under the ‘broad shoulders’ of the ‘strong and stable’ isolated, separatist, non-European, xenophobic, suspicious, exceptionalist, jingoistic, backward thinking, obsessed with wars that happened 75 years ago and beyond, chip-on-the –shouldered, little lost empired fold. Then call for a big signing ceremony at Edinburgh Castle under the union flag, invite a Windsor or two, have a fly past of a couple of Spitfires, and Bob’s yer auntie’s bidey in. That’ll work. They’ll all have forgotten that they had even toyed with the idea of having their own government, and we can all get back to the comfy two party state of the parties of similarity playing tig and squirrelling the populace’s hard earned money away in the Cayman Islands whilst we starve their school kids.
In addition the memo reveals that another ploy the circus clown school that Cumming’s is running down there in Downing Street may want to employ to stave off the pressure of a self-governing electoral landslide in Scotland is,(and this involves Cummings, Johnson, Gove et al being able to actively repel copious buckets of full strength extra thick weather proof GPO Post Box red paint from sticking to their necks) would be to have a quiet word in the ear of the Commissioners of the EU, the largest tariff-free trading bloc on the planet, whom they have just left, having treated them over at least the last 7 years with the respect that an escaped diarrhetic rottweiler gives to a grassy public playpark, asking them to give the rubber ear to any attempt to pave the way Scotland might make to re-join the European Union as an independent country.
Can you believe that? Yes, I can just see Messrs Barnier and others, the array of men and women in Brussels who have spent several years now shaking their heads and wondering what the hell they are putting in the tea across the water from Calais these days, passing up the opportunity of welcoming into the outside world, beyond the Dad’s Army barbed wire fence, a small prosperous, resource rich progressive country with a long history of partnerships and alliances with mainland European states, much of it pre-dating the bribery, patronage and corruption of 1707. A country already attuned and compliant for the most part with the protections and regulatory structure of the EU, a union where our black pudding, our salmon and Arbroath smokies will be protected and recognised for their quality and their place of origin, not subsumed, repackaged in red, white and blue, and labelled with a caricature of John Bull.
Predictably the leaked memo suggests that if all else fails a campaign should be launched to go after Nicola Sturgeon and her government via a spot of reputational stink bombing, no doubt involving almost hourly repetitious scaremongering, criticism of policy, exaggeration of failings, underplay or ignoring of positive successes achieved by the Scottish government. The full bhuna, a media feeding frenzy of fallaciousness. Right out of the imperial playbook, tried and trusted all around the globe, until the maps started to change mainly in the second half of the last century, and nearer home, in the farcical days up to 18th September 2014.
Oh wait, isn’t that what they are doing at the moment anyway? How is that working out?
Do you think they are worried?
Finally folks it’s good to hear that Paul ‘Wee Ginger Dug’ Kavanagh is starting to improve slowly but surely following his recent stroke, although I was very saddened to hear that the actual Wee Ginger has passed away this week, as if things weren’t bad enough for Paul this week he’s lost his wee pal. Ginger seemed a lovely wee dug, Paul’s constant companion around the highways and byways of Indy. My thoughts are with you Paul.
Paul is currently doing a crowdfunder to see if he can raise a sum sufficient to allow him to purchase a ground floor flat or a cottage as his current circumstances no longer allow him to be able to stay in a top floor flat. If ever there was an indy cause we can get behind this is it folks. Paul is one of our own and an inspiration to many.
If you can spare some cash, large or small to help him out please pop over to weegingerdug.wordpress.com where you’ll find various ways in which you can donate.
Right folks. The signs are all there. Best get started on that trench, reinforce it well, and make it deep, for any day now the massed bow-men of Union will let loose a sky full of arrows, the dogs of war will be let off the leash, and gin-soused propagandists will be wakened from their slumbers, for yet another full frontal nasty assault against what is the perfectly normal proposition, most anywhere else in the world, of a nation governing itself.
Yes, now that there is consistent polling-based evidence that the light bulb has most definitely switched on all across the land, with increasing numbers of Scots starting to see the reality of their country’s almost subsumed position by a neighbour under the guise of a fair and equal Union, neither of which it is, (the latest poll placing Yes in the position of a predicted 58% of the vote should a referendum on the sovereignty question be held right now) we can expect all of the old worn out and tired Project Feartie tropes to come our way, yet again, over the winter months leading up to the Holyrood elections in May next year.
We can be sure that yet another recently created ‘think-tank’,paid for by somebody in business with a vested interest in the politics of the UK returning to the Blairite ‘New’ middle of the road two party days where the policies of the Tories and sold-out Labour were almost indistinguishable from each other, will be lining up an invitation for the son of the manse, Gordon Broon to address a Zoom audience of minor lobbyists, only there to act as convenient background whilst the media report his words like they are carved in to tablets of stone from on high, about his solution to the unfortunate rise of the confidence of the citizens of the country of his birth in their own self-determination, his fix, his vision of a federal Britain that nobody wants, least of all the good citizens of England.
Broon has,almost miserably now, reached the status of the Beatles “Eleanor Rigby” character Father McKenzie who sadly wrote the sermons that no one will hear, no one comes near. He has been wheeled out on repeat so often, Gordy has, that many of us could probably write his speech for him, and not be far away from producing accurately what he’ll say.
Look out too in the coming weeks for the much used phrase “Independence financial black hole” being repeated at you loudly and often in bold newsprint and in tea time TV news headlines which come from where you are, but reflect the views of the government of the country which governs where you are, a government incidentally currently running a debt of over £2 trillion pounds.
Clearly allowing them to continue to make much of the financial decision-making, spending our money on our behalf, and borrowing on our behalf, is more than just disadvantageous, it’s disastrous, and is a solid reason why Scotland should return to being an independent state, and as soon as possible, not a reason to stay tied to a financially incompetent ex-imperial diminishing nation spending well above its means.
Watch too for the current stramash that is the inflated and conflated miasma around the relationship of the current First Minister of Scotland with the previous First Minister of Scotland taking on Watergate-like dramatic proportions, every little fact, turned over and re-examined again and again, stretched out of all shape, consequence or interest, like a Netflix drama that the writers could have completed in three series but was then diluted, and let meander into series six.
There will be a major financial institution or two, (sigh, yawn) again threatening to move their business south of Berwick should Scotland become independent, which would be like cutting their leg off at the oxter to scratch an itchy toe.
I’m curious to see how that contrived strand of corporate strategic risk management propaganda will be spun this time now that moving south doesn’t have the same enticement as when moving south meant still having preferential treatment from dealings with Pierre, Claudette, Hans, Fabio, Helga,Paola and Sergio, fine chaps and chappesses who, come the new year will be continuing to enjoy the benefits of a massive tariff free trading market , a market Britain won’t be in. Truly bonkers.
Oh and don’t forget the Great British celebrity melancholy. Keep the tissues handy. We’ll be awash with famous children’s writers, ‘historians’ (I’ll use that term loosely) past-it pop singers, tv presenters and soap stars telling us how much it will break their heart if Scotland leaves them, even though the only real physical difference to any connection they will have with Scotland and its people in the future is the fact that the invisible welcoming border which currently sits between signposts saying ‘Welcome to Scotland’ north of where they live in their own country will be an invisible welcoming border to a rightfully independent country. Granny in Rotherham will still be entitled to a cuddle like a bear hug at Central Station from her grandweans when she visits.
On the run up to May we’ll be harangued by the Proudscotbut perpetually insulted and offended for stirring up all this divisiveness and talk of separation again. It hasn’t even been a generation yet since the last time, and during a global pandemic too, how could we be so insensitive.
This, even though currently there is no active campaigning going on for an independent Scotland, the First Minister, a wee woman who sometime soon deserves a bit of time to herself to just go into a darkened room and sleep for about a week, making it plain that her first, and only, priority at the moment is doing everything in her power to reduce the loss of life and debilitating long term illness caused by Covid-19.
As far as I can see there are no secret plans to sneak out of the UK under cover of virus and darkness, and when our leaders of 2014 mentioned “Once in a generation” it was in the context that we might never be allowed the opportunity again, not, as we falsely keep having flung at us, that they were signing a pledge to not adhere to the sovereign wishes of the majority of the people they represent, should they change, which they have, for a generation. If ever there was a phrase wildly used out of context by unionists it’s that one.
Rest assured too that the ‘Firm’ will be deployed. Expect at an appropriate moment, during an interview, or a passing comment ‘overheard’ by the media, or leaked by an unnamed insider, some royal sadness, (they are strictly apolitical mind you) at the prospect of Scotland being governed from Edinburgh rather than from London.
This won’t involve the head of the family, no,they’ll keep her powder dry just in case a second independence referendum come up in the next year or two, when she can have most impact by a one or two line comment outside the Kirk or an edgy ambiguous media statement in the hours just before the electoral booths open. No, it’ll be the next in line to the throne, (not his disgraceful sibling) or perhaps, I reckon, seeking more impact in the age groups currently overwhelmingly displaying a penchant for self-government, it’ll be Diana Spencer’s eldest son and his wife, the second in line.
In fact, considering all of the above, don’t bother digging a trench to avoid all of that guff. Throw the shovel away. We in the independence movement have seen all this before, we, in every growing numbers, recognise it for what it is when we see it, and we move on entirely undeterred on our journey to a better, fairer, more compassionate Scotland, on to independence.
Having heard the sad news yesterday, I start today by expressing my heartfelt best wishes and positive thoughts for Paul Kavanagh and his husband Peter. As we in the Indy for Scotland world probably now all know Paul, the Wee Ginger Dug, suffered a stroke in the last couple of days and is currently in hospital.
Paul was, and is, the inspiration behind me starting this site. By kindly allowing me, on the odd occasion, when he required a well-earned break, to be guest poster on the dug, I gained the confidence to start this, my own blog in February 2016.
He is a very talented, articulate writer. His ability to look up beyond the tree line at the bigger picture of the politics of the much disunited kingdom and how this impacts the journey to an independent Scotland, summing up with erudite humour and sharp biting satire, is unequalled. I wish him a speedy recovery. We need him.
Moving on to a subject often close to Paul’s usual keyboard-flicking fingers, it seems, events necessitating, that it’s time, once more, to consider exactly what dosage of alternative-reality elixir some of those madcap cheeky chappie fanboys of the Scottish London Tories are actually chucking down their neck, or ingesting by any other means.
Having eventually now gotten to read the putative leader of the Scottish Tories (who so far has resisted the temptation to be photographed with a Challenger tank between his knees, give him time) Doogie, the VAR, Ross’s, speech via “Zoom” addressing the bunch of zoomers plugged in to the Tory Conference a couple of weeks ago it seems clear to me that the fella has spent far too much time wandering up and down a touchline in the rain.
The Doogser, who already made it clear a while back, I think in a Sunday morning telly interview, that as far as he is concerned he is going into next year’s Holyrood parliamentary elections to win it, easy peasy, oh yes, Nicola Sturgeon’s shooder pads are on a shaky nail, he’ll even give up the cushy linesman’s job where occasionally he gets knocked off his feet by a belligerent mitre football travelling at five miles an hour when he becomes First Minister, now thinks the media is biased in favour of the party which represents the Scottish nation.
Wow! That indeed is a stretch of reality one step further from the truth than it is possible to go.
After haranguing the bewildered Zoom audience of retiree Jubilee coin-collecting dwellers of the Home Counties, and their fascist element (the Tory Cabinet) about their lack of enthusiasm for his Union, and about the fact, which is a fact, that the majority of the folk in England cannae tell the difference between English and British, thinking it is the same thing, which as far as they are concerned it is, Doogie accused them of defeatism, of seeing the consistent polling which has taken place over the last year or so which shows the tipping point towards a majority Scottish view for independence as a sign of a crumbling union, where the subservient half in the relationship has at last recognised the reality of their position, which it, and we, have, in everybody else’s mind but Doogie’s.
According to young Doogite, the media, particularly the London media, apparently, (this is great) “fall over themselves in praise of the SNP and give them an easy ride. They don’t challenge Nicola Sturgeon on why she lied to the Scottish Parliament”.
Wow again! Just wow!
Try telling that to Andrew’s Neil and Marr, and others. The only reason that the born-again slightly less loathsome than before Piers Morgan has stopped verbally assaulting the First Minister of Scotland recently is because he admires her leadership and sense of responsibility during a pandemic in comparison to the clown show which is Boris Johnson’s government who have self-banned any of their number from appearing on Morgan’s breakfast TV spot for months now because he was making them look stupid to the point of near self-combustion.
Maybe that’s what Doogie means, who knows? He’s clearly after a wee shot of Colonel Ruth’s ermine Harry Potter invisibility cloak, the one she says she doesn’t want to wear (but she will anyway) because she’s a chick of the people, boak.
Moving on, what’s that Andrew Bowie all about? The Tory MP for West Aberdeenshire and Kincardine (what were they thinking?) has been trying to wind up those of a self-governing nature in a bit of trolling which undoubtedly has backfired.
Known previously for playing the outraged straight man to line up a Boris Johnson dig at Scotland in the Commons, the fella with the most arrogant and self-entitled facial expression since the entire population of the far off distant remote island of Smugnumptia won the Saturday lottery has been at it again.
In a time when poll after poll indicates that the future is not red, white and blue, Bowie sulkily feels he has to jab his fellow Scots with references to the illegal power grabbing Internal Market Bill, which will undermine the hard fought for devolution settlement.
In a tweet he wallows in the glories and narrow minded visions of the country he is loyal to, whilst threatening aggressively the countryfolk of the country he comes from with the words “This Internal market is just the start. The UK Govt is back in Scotland. Get used to it”. He’s like a spoilt wee laddie. How much self-loathing does it take to hate your own country so badly?
One day all of this will be behind us folks.
With a sudden need to wash my hands thoroughly after considering these two sycophants of another country, I’ll end again with a mention of an altogether more worthy human being.
Get well soon Paul. The thoughts of we, (your audience) and the wider Yes Movement are with you and Peter, and wee ginge .You have inspired many, and will continue in your great writing to do so again.
I want Scotland to return to its rightful place as an independent member of the family of world nations. I want that outcome to happen yesterday.
For the first time in my more than half a century haunting the planet I joined a political party, the Scottish National Party, on the day their leader at Westminster, and by association his party colleagues were kicked out of the Westminster Commons chamber for the day a couple of years ago. Notwithstanding Covid-19 things have not gone the way I, and many other advocates of independence, would have wished in the meantime. I haven’t renewed. I don’t care about politicians.
The idea that the conduct of those holding public office should be of a higher standard than the rest of us is a misnomer, which if it were ever half way true has eroded over the last forty years to become something of a joke. The days of a politician or spin guru doing the right thing and resigning out of principle or because it’s the honourable thing to do are long gone.
Both Alex Salmond and Nicola Sturgeon have done fantastic work, backbreaking heavy load carrying, forcibly hauling the sovereignty question for Scotland to the front and centre of mainstream politics, forcing the established order of government by another country under the guise of a faux Union to quake in its ermine cloaks and ceremonial garters.
Both Alex Salmond and Nicola Sturgeon are human, have failings just like the rest of us, and at times have, and will,fall short in the behaviours that they would aspire to maintain, just like us.
I don’t care when Nicola Sturgeon knew what, and what she knew. I don’t subscribe to conspiracy. The sense of a Murrell dynasty at the head of the SNP doesn’t concern me. I don’t care that information came out about Alex Salmond’s character which may not have shown him in the best light during his successfully being proven innocent in front of a jury of his peers. Whatever is real or fabricated on this subject will be completely swamped by British unionist propaganda anyway.
Looking above the tree line of SNPBAD We’ve seen the steady rise and rise of dangerous right-wing English nationalism fuelled initially by Farage and his immigrant baiting Brexit Party (the 21st century’s National Front), initially out on the wing of the Tories but now almost unbelievably and incredibly consolidated as the main driving force and centre of the No Deal Brexit seeking government of the fuggnucket clown shoe current Prime Minister.
In the midst of a deadly pandemic, handled in a dangerous negligent and corrupt manner by the mainly amateur toffs in Johnson’s government, we await the chaos and the tsunami-like economic, social and cultural disaster that is to unfold in around three months time as a Brexit for real happens.
Yet again we find Scots law, ancient and modern, and the devolution settlement of the last twenty odd years under severe threat from a power steal, and legislation at Westminster paving the way to override Holyrood’s devolved powers at any time they like on a whim, chlorinated chicken anyone? All of this joyfully championed by the likes of part-time linesman and poor man’s VAR, Doogie Ross, and the Tory fan boy whose face comes up on your laptop screen when you google the word ‘Smug’, Andrew Bowie.
In a time now where it is plainly clear that the tipping point is well and truly here, poll after poll consistently showing clear blue water between Yes and the now consigned to the ludicrous argument ‘once in a lifetime’ remains of 2014’s unionist support it all still comes down to some clear choices for you, the people of Scotland sometime again soon, picking sides and squabbling over individual high profile figures in our movement is wasted inward-focussed negative energy.
The question of self-government for Scotland is not about party politics, its not about individuals, it’s not about nationalism in Scotland, although partly, for some, it is about nationalism in England.
No, what more and more Scots are committed to is clearly not nationalism. It is the thirst for a fair society, social justice and the opportunity for our children to have a better life, to have governments elected by you, and accountable to you.
Let the state propagandists concentrate on division. Let’s get back to the job in hand. Heads up and eyes focussed on the prize.
It’s right fair and transparent that Mother of Democracy, the Palace of Westminster Estate, int it?
It’s came oot that the former Scottish bra mogul who near went bust (that’s ironic), more recently turned Tory unelected £330 smackaroonies attendance allowance a day recipient fur wearing a deid stoat’s fur roond her shooders in the unelected rest home of privilege which is the Lords, a den of patronage and corporate board membership, somehow found wan ae her former associates attaining a massive £112million contract of taxpayers money for PPE, several companies who had years of experience of making such equipment not even being offered the opportunity to bid. Her pal having started the business only 7 weeks before winning the contract.
That’s yer Great Britain fur ye. Wake up and smell the institutional corruption. A democracy? If it ever existed it’s well and truly gone tits up! Wid make ye sick.
Oh look, a spitfire!
Independence for Scotland now. Somebody. Please. Bring it on.
Munching greedily on a handful of long stringy heavily salted fries, (in his other hand, an overfilled bread bun about to part company with much of its filling of a treble beef pattie, copious cheese, onion and extra BBQ sauce, the lettuce having been discarded, and now strewn across the polished oak antique desk in front of the man) he paused between loud chewing sounds, wiped his hands on his trousers and stepped through the doorway where a lectern had been set up in an ante-room ready for him to speak to his public.
“It’s beautiful, it’s just beautiful. No one has ever been as sick as me before, no one has ever made such a remarkable recovery as I have, I’m on the records as a miracle, a one off. I feel great. My healthy skin colour has returned, I have so much vigour, my energy levels are sky rocketing. It’s my pedigree you know, I truly believe that, it’s in my genes, and you know genes sounds a bit like genius, and that is what I am. A natural. A very stable genius.
My ratings’, heck my ratings are through the roof, not like the fake news and sleepy Joe, they are heading down the river folks, just you wait and see. The New York Times, CNN and the Washington Post, all on the way out, not a word that they print or report is true. It’s all fake.
I have defeated the ‘Chynaa’ virus all on my own. The fact that I’ve kept myself fit and lean over the years, six foot four and very very light for my height, very light. I could be mistaken for someone around thirty, easily. I get many compliments, especially from women, but I’m a one gal kind of guy.
Oh yes. I’m gonna win and I’m gonna win big. My first inauguration was the biggest event Washington has ever seen, bigger by twice the size than even Dr King’s freedom march. This time it will be even bigger. They’ll hear our marching bands from Mississippi… And boy, are we going to make some changes in the next four years to make America great again. Just you watch.”
A voice spoke up from the back of the room, a woman in a surgical face mask and business suit with a microphone in her hand with the logo of MSNBC displayed on its handle spoke.“Sir, Sir, Mr President, a question?”
Rolling his eyes, and letting out a sigh the heavy set figure in the thick makeup pointed at the woman and spoke. “Yes, ok, just this once. You know you are fake news right? I’ve read your pieces before, you write terribly. I don’t know why you have the job that you do, you are so bad at it. Anyway, what is your question?’
“Thank you sir. My question is this, you seem to be recovering very quickly from the virus, what are your thoughts about the other 7 and a half million Americans who have contracted Covid 19, and the 210,000 of your people who have died?”
The semi-stooped almost bouffant-headed figure (who would have looked comical in any other sphere of employment than the one he was in) looked directly at the provider of the question, menacingly he sneered slightly and raised his right eyebrow.
Slowly his mouth opened, and he said, almost in a whisper, which the microphones thankfully picked up, he said only one word………..
itisintruthnotforglory 
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