The reach of the small-man syndromic former Brittas (sic) Empire knows no bounds.
It streeeches far and wide, even tae this day. The auld saying about its influence being so widespread that the sun never sets upon it, (or alternatively the sun never sets upon it because ye cannae trust the feckers in the dark) holds true even now.
How do I know this? I know this because yesterday, as part of their latest dastardly project, (tae wheel in the previously politically androgynous family of hereditary monarchy (Head office at the bottom of the Mall) on the side of Union to quell the savage ranks of wildly fanatical, ordinary, well-adjusted human beings who live north of the River Tweed who are demanding nothing other than for their country to be treated equally and fairly, like any other normal country in the 21st century) they sent two of these God-like specimens orf (yes I did write orf) to a ‘remote Scottish Archipelago”, according to all of the media who wrote about it, to open a hospital.
Imagine that eh? A “remote Scottish Archipelago.”
Conjures up all sorts of images that. Months in the travelling, running short of caviar and Waitrose quinoa, the wine cellar all but a quarter full, never sighting land for weeks, strange, previously unseen and undocumented whale-like creatures spotted breaking the surface of the fierce waves occasionally in the dawn light (that generated a quick satellite phone call from the ship’s captain to Priti Patel), eventually catching sight of land, getting closer and spotting movement.
What is that? Is it a Komodo Dragon? What is this strange place, so remote from the world? It looks human, it is human, let’s see if we can communicate with it here on the beach. “Hello native, we come in peace, we are British. Do you have anything of value?”
The man, on the beach, dressed in an Adidas hoodie and cargo trousers, with a look of puzzlement on his face, made as if to communicate.
“Look” said the Deputy-Deputy -High-Heid-Yin of London, “it’s trying to say something”.
“Achh, watch and no’ sprett the erse o yer breeks climbing off that boat. Yeez’ll be for a dram?”……said the figure. Turns oot the remote Scottish archipelago was Orkney.
Next stop for our intrepid ambassadors of Union, a three week trek through a dangerous and withering tropical jungle, past the chippy, and the ash park, tae see the ancient, mystical and mysterious roondaboot circles of Cumbernauld, thought to be Mayan in origin.
Oh please, roll on independence, the red, white and blue propaganda is getting worse.
itisintruthnotforglory 