Beyond foolishness


It’s all coming apart at the seams. The plot has been well and truly lost. The last fantasies of a long gone Empire are unravelling, and In the stark light of day the leaked government document to The Times outlining the probable consequences of Westminster’s government plans to run headlong into a solid granite wall which is hurtling towards them from the opposite direction faster than they will be able to get out of the way, without ending many of their own political careers, is just the opening moments of perhaps the biggest self-inflicted clusterbollock ever dropped.

Dismissed by Michael Gove, an individual who frankly I wouldn’t trust to be able to look after the remnants of a partially solidified rabbit jobby if I put it in a jar and said ‘ here you, haud this’, as scaremongering and “bumps in the road” the report on Operation Yellow Submarine spells out the expected disruption you can look forward to once a no-deal Brexit kicks in.

Yes, the Blue Meanies of Whitehall, after three years of planning, or avoiding planning, for a number of eventualities which are so complex that no one but the seance-summoned spirit of Albert Einstein can understand them fully, are really setting residents of the UK up for some fun times ahead.

Don’t, whatever you do, fall sick. If you’ve an existing medical condition requiring any form of regular medication, or you work in a chemist shop, get ready for a bit of an upheaval or two to your daily routine.

If you are fond of some fresh fruit or really just any food that takes a wee bit longer tae cook than heating up a steak bake in the microwave you are in for shortages and price hikes. Jamie Oliver will just need tae start sprinkling rice crispies on his pukka culinary efforts instead of pomegranate seeds. Innit.

If you are going anywhere that involves leaving the UK for somewhere in Europe, and coming back, it’s probably wise to buy yourself a foldaway sleeping bag and a good book or five.

Lorry drivers in the haulage industry, ooft, the pressure these folk are going to be under, they are anyway at the best of times, will be incredible. Look out for a newly discovered medical condition known as Port-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder.

Worst, possibly, and something that doesn’t bear jesting about, on the island of Ireland in this scenario there is likely to be significant pressure brought to bear to create a hard border between the EU and British territory, breaching the Good Friday Agreement, and possibly returning Northern Ireland to chaotic times no one ever wants to see again. That would be unforgivable.

Johnson and his gang of chancers are playing a very dangerous game, with peoples lives and livelihoods.

All of this is happening against the will of the democratic majority of Scotland’s people who at the ballot box have expressed their wish to remain a part of the wide European community of nations.

Scotland, and it’s government, has a choice to make, and it needs to be made soon.




What is it that troubles them?

What is it about asking the people of Scotland to consider, for a second time, whether they wish to have their own government, that unionist politicians and their media cannot come to terms with?

This week we’ve seen stramashes breaking out all over the place as factions of the local office in Scotland of the British Labour Party get torn in about each other when their Deputy Leader, up
north of the border to be interviewed at an Edinburgh Festival event, decided to mention that democracy should be respected in what is supposed to be a democratic political union.

His words in reality mean nothing because Labour, and he, can easily weasel out of any future commitment to let Scotland’s people have their say, words are cheap, but what this incident highlighted is the blatant disrespect some unionist politicians have for the views of the wider communities in the country they represent.

Ian Murray was ready to burst the seam under the oxter of his union flagged jaiket at the very thought of anyone in the Labour Party agreeing that democracy should have its way, wee Jackie Baillie, taking a brief break from chewing a wasp, keyboarded a strongly worded email to her wee gang of blairites, those still dreaming of the halcyon day’s of long lunches and longer wine lists, denouncing a possible referendum, whilst bizarrely doing the political equivalent of shoving a broken irn bru bottle betwixt the shooder blades of her local office manager.

What are these folk all about?

Mainly Remainers when it comes to the EU divorce debacle, it needs to be pointed out to The Hague dodger’s fan club that they don’t get to strongly advocate that voters (mainly from the English side of the border) should get a chance to change their minds on a second vote for a referendum that happened three years ago but the people of Scotland shouldn’t get the chance to do the same thing for a referendum that happened five years ago. Especially seeing as the polls are more than suggesting that electorally they are an irrelevance.

They talk constantly about the 2014 referendum being a once in a generation event. Democracy doesn’t work that way, particularly when all of the promises made to those that voted No turned out to be wind & pish.

Then there’s the Labour Party’s answer to the Tory Member for SNP Gain in Aberdeen, Paul Sweeney’s, car running onto a train line just as a high speed Class 800 train comes hurtling along the track unfortunately not avoiding the 747 airliner which suddenly fell out of the sky, crash interview trying to dilute John McDonnell’s comments and the SNP’s mandate to hold a second referendum on the state broadcasters ‘Good Morning Scotland’.

Talk about random. Apparently there is absolutely no call for independence in Scotland at all, naebdy’s interested, it’s a figment of the now Ashcroft polled 52% of Scots imaginations. Yer all barmy, let’s get back to weighing Labour votes, and oh by the way we’ve got a great new idea that’s never been mentioned before, a Federal Britain! It’ll be magic, Scotland will be a turbocharged powerhouse, like Mansfield or Burnley. Right on comrade!

Also, according to our hero, the Deputy Leader from head office in London didnae really mean tae say that Scotland should have a referendum again if the expressed democratic will of the people of Scotland is to give their elected representatives a mandate to do so, because they don’t em em… have a mandate, and probably won’t ever have one. Simples! Delusional but simple.

We hear all the time members of the media, when conversing with these heidbangers, saying things like “ The SNP say that they have a mandate” or “ according to the SNP they think they have a mandate”. What a load of falsehood and misdirecting of the public nonsense that is.

There can be no debate, no doubt, no uncertainty, no differing opinions, the SNP do have a cast iron mandate from the people of Scotland to canvass them once more about their views on their future governance.

The Scottish National Party fundamentally exists to promote and facilitate Scotland’s rightful return to an independent sovereign state. For politicians and media representatives involved in politics to act like they are not entirely aware of that fact is disingenuous.

That political party won the last Scottish parliamentary elections on a manifesto promise that they would seek a second referendum should Scotland be forced out of the EU against its will. Scotland’s people agreed with them.

That political party then held a vote in Scotland’s parliament of all of the people of Scotland’s elected representatives seeking authority to hold a second referendum. Scotland’s people, via their representatives agreed with them.

That political party then fought the British Parliament General Election on a manifesto promise to protect Scotland from the madness of Brexit by holding a second independence referendum. Scotland’s people agreed with them, giving them a majority of 35 seats, way in excess of the political parties represented in Scotland but originating, and fundamentally favouring, English interests.

That is democracy. These chancers are not democrats, they are mouthpieces of another state.

When the lights go out


It seemed somewhat more than ironic as I stopped off for my morning coffee today that the background music playing in the little coffee shop I frequent happened bizarrely to be Vera Lynn singing ‘When the Lights Go on Again.”

A song of the past inspiring hope and thoughts of a better future for a generation under dire threat from extremist fanatics almost 80 years ago it’s hard to believe that Britain is the same place that Vera Lynn sang about then.

Half the population of England, having suffered years of withering policies of austerity inflicted on them by their governments, stirred up by increasingly far right-wing politicians, unchallenged by the media, into fearing and blaming immigrants for their plight, mistrusting foreigners and somehow being convinced by exaggeration that the European Union has control and influence over the sovereign affairs of its member nations, does makes it seem a bit like 80 years ago. But this time the lights are going out only in Britain, heralding a self-inflicted era of unhealthy, inward looking sinister English nationalism.

Somehow or other, how it happened will be the lifetime research of a future historian, the patriotism and pride in defeating far-right extremism of Britain’s past has been spun on its head by the likes of Farage, UKIP, and their like, and has found a fertile breeding ground.

The robotic speech-by-rote Prime Minister put in place by those with the real power, to stabilise the ship, and absorb the political flak of withdrawing from the largest free trading club that exists anywhere, has been removed and replaced by a posh chancer, a dreamer of no substance, a power craver, explicitly there to appeal to that same fertile breeding ground which the far-right have cultivated.

Britain’s choice to leave the EU and the dire consequences of doing so are now being portrayed as the EU’s fault. The blame for what is to come has been transferred from those who are actually at fault to those who refuse to compromise on protecting their membership, a privilege that Britain is about to give up.

Boris Johnson and his team have have no magic bullet policies to solve the divorce from the EU in a way which satisfies his government and the elite ‘wealth creators’, which is, to have all of the benefits of being a member of the EU without also having the responsibilities of being a member, that’s the simple version, the reality. It’s all a front.

Johnson’s cabal have two strategies, transfer blame and gamble.

‘We’re straining every sinew to get a good deal’ say his acolytes, before going back to the gin and the Test at Lords.

‘We’re preparing for a no-deal but we don’t expect one’ they say, with no plan on how to achieve a deal or real expectation of it happening.

‘The EU must remove the Irish backstop and come to the table’ they say, knowing full well that the European Union can only function on its fundamental ability to protect its members, and knowing that any impact on the current freedoms of movement at the Irish border is a breach of the Good Friday Agreement, with potential catastrophic consequences for the peace on the island of Ireland.

The intention is to create a tension, and misdirect voter anger towards Europe, and away from the real creators of the chaos and mayhem.

We can only hope that somehow better minds prevail, that the many millions of ordinary hardworking folk of England, just like ourselves, stuck in this nightmare, can win out again a minority who are manipulating their country for personal gain and wicked ideology.

Scotland is going another way. Taking another path. Internationalist, looking outwards, welcoming, progressive, inclusive, a maturing confident social democracy. Ashcroft’s recent poll supports what we have known for a while.

In the 21st century the democratic rights of a sovereign country cannot be denied for long. There is much work still to be done but independence is coming. Our lights may dim, but soon will burn bright.

(Hi folks, a personal plea again. If you are a regular reader of the blog on Facebook would you mind clicking on the blog site and click on ‘follow’ from there. The reason being that every time I post on Facebook indy groups I seem to attract a 24 hr to 72 hr ban. The truth is hurting somebody somewhere.

Sincere thanks to the many who have recently started following via the blog site instead of through Facebook. By all means though please continue to post the blog on Facebook yourself if you wish to do so.)

Before a baw is kicked


As someone eminently more sagacious on the subject of independence for Scotland once said “Poles (sic) are for holding up washing lines.” However Lord Ashcroft’s on-line poll for the Conservative Home website and the Holyrood magazine will fairly put a draughty wind up the polished rear quarters of the denizens of White’s Club in St James and the dusty corridors of the Palace of Westminster.

With no official campaign in place, no date to aim at, no structured central support network to feed the grassroots groups who have been poised in the starting blocks at the ‘set’ position for some time now, and not including 16-17 year olds in the polling, Ashcroft has recorded a 52% to 48% turnover in favour of a self-governing Scotland in a poll covering 30 July-2 August.

It doesn’t raise the hair on the back of the neck of a normalist quite as much as the poll suggesting Yes was easing ahead in mid September 2014, and the Sunday Post front cover, that generated mayhem as trainloads of Westminster politicians abandoned their entrecôte de boeuf and mugs of Chateau Lafite in order to stalk the citizens of Scotland in their town centres, entreating them to repent and step away from the newfound scandalous confidence in their own ability to look after their own interests, and wander back towards the ever warming light and glorious loving arms of Union (or the spider monkeys and the plague of locusts will eat your noses),but before a baw is even kicked, (either of Boris Johnson’s will do) the results of the poll does induce a nice warm feeling.

Independence is normal, politically dominating neighbouring countries is not.



Just a short blog today folks.

It was the third anniversary of a very significant (if somewhat too late) event for Scotland yesterday, the end of the Right to Buy Scheme north of the border.

A lament to the past…..

Before the fences replaced nice hedges between properties, and then got higher, and higher. Before white stone chipped driveways. Before half a roof of a four in a block got replaced. Before double-glazing and central heating salesmen moved in and made a fortune out of new victims. Before the endowment mortgage scam… and before the compensation. Before cars, cars, cars, car-parking, ‘get off my verge’, Before key-blocking the front garden, for more cars. Before ASBO’s. Before Sitex security shutters. Before ‘Carbunkle of the Year” Awards. Before all of the best properties got cherry-picked. Before it disnae belong to me to so why should I care. Before shooting galleries. Before they stopped maintaining the parks well, and budget cuts and health & safety filled in the weans paddling pools. Before CCTV. Before satellite dishes, Before Rupert Murdoch and Sky News. Before poverty porn and benefit shaming. Before Food-banks. Before more Food-banks. Before record-breaking homelessness. Before alarming premature death rates due to drug abuse.

Before all of these there were great communities.

R.I.P. 494,000 Scottish social housing properties as a result of decisions made by a government from another country.

Welcome to Scotland


There were no photogenic saltires draped behind the seat as he had his snapshot taken with the First Minister of Scotland at Bute Hoose, but the awkwardness and cringe value of the last Prime Minister of the UK’s visit to Scotland outmatched Theresa May’s debut performance some time back by a fair measure.
Nicola Sturgeon sees them come, she sees them go, British Prime Ministers, like a city bus on a circular route, hang about a bit and there will be another one along in a minute.
He’d visited Faslane, the military base which stores Britain’s stock of rented weapons of mass murder and destruction, a crow’s soar from the largest population centre in Scotland, and many miles from London, to take part in a photoshoot with several bemused, bewildered professional submariners, their facial expressions in the photographs betraying what was in their mind rather than what was coming out of their mouths, in answer to whimsy wrapped up in buffoonery and then tied in a bow of achieved ambition outweighing ability.

In an attempt to tame the natives he made an offer to give them back some of their own money, using smoke and mirrors to fog the issue for the listeners and the more astute of the media audience as to whether it was a re-allocation of Scotland’s money already allocated to other causes, new money or a mix of both. Reporting Scotland viewers however would be led to believe in no uncertain terms that this was a benevolent act by our beloved partner in our precious union.

Ushered in the Edinburgh front door, under a hail of booing, by a leader clearly impatient and not in the mood for nonsense, his close aides, including the new version of London’s man in Scotland, hustled in post haste, an entourage of bureaucrats and political acolytes following on, up the steps, all important to the look he was trying, but failing, to portray, for statesmanlike he isn’t.

His attempts at charming Scotland’s First Minister rebuffed, him and his new Viceroy to the northern province treated to a glancing look up and down from Nicola Sturgeon, (unusually) which would have cut diamonds, her facial expression saying ‘get in that meeting room, I want a word with you’, he duly did so.

His snake oil sales pitch foiled, his boyish bonhomie repelled, his cover blown, he has no plan other than to take the UK to the edge of disaster, treat the EU with disdain, but then hope that they will still bail him out in the end. A calculated risk say some, delusional madness say the rest of us.

To avoid further humiliation he left by the back door. It would come as no surprise to observers to hear, if it had happened, that on his way to that rear entrance of the offical residence of the First Minister of Scotland he had found himself in a broom cupboard.

(Independence is normal, politically dominating neighbouring countries is not).


Ties that blind


Like a triumphant Caesar atop a golden chariot being pulled by four sparkling white steeds, the last Prime Minister of the UK, as it currently exists, is heading north today.

His big blonde/ grey coo-sized heid supports the weight of a wreath of Laurel atop it’s moppy peak.

In his mind he is not Roman, he is Apollo, of Ancient Greek mythology. Strong, powerful, formidable….. and as wide as the Clyde.

He’ll promise anything, anything at all, to anybody, to charm or get his way.

He is not known for his ability to actually deliver on any of the promises he makes, for the simple reason that in his mind he doesn’t have to deliver on any promises he makes, because not delivering on any promises he makes doesn’t faze him in the slightest, or give him one moment of lost sleep.

It doesn’t bother him one way or the other about failing on commitments, he can always blame someone else when something he promises doesn’t happen, and move on.

Life, for him, is a surreal term of privileged jocular faux conviviality. He’s everybody’s pal, but when it all goes Pete Tong he’ll be handing out cups of tea to reporters at Chequers front gate, shrugging his shoulders, and then packing the designer travel ware for St Moritz until the dust settles.

The weekend’s Sunday breakfast tv shows emphasised the unreal, and unusual connection the media have with a man whose first waking thought every morning is ‘they fell for it!’

He is described jovially as ‘Boris this’ and ‘Boris that’ consistently across the board. There is altogether too cosy a relationship In existence between those supposed to be holding power to account and those they are supposed to be holding to account.

He’s a showman, a snake oil salesman par excellence, an unpredictable figure who will give them acres of column inches, and they love him for it.

He’s coming to a Scottish ‘military base’, Faslane, according to those who would know, to make an announcement about how he intends to renew the ‘ ties that bind the UK’.

Apparently this does not include the introduction of legislation along the lines of a revamped version of the 1705 Alien Act (at this stage) But does include vague promises to chuck loads of money at vague growth deals in Scotland, Wales and Norn Irn.

As part of this veritable feast of benevolence (300 million quid) Fawkurt, home of the footballing bairns, is to get some new bus shelters, an actual shop in the High Street which doesn’t sell E-cigarettes, coffee or haircuts, a new grit bin, and a small Jack Russell who answers to the name of Tristan.

Also, Scotland’s islands and Argyll and Bute are set to be turned into a series of theme parks for toffs and Surrey new money.

All of this of course is supposed to convince you that Brexit is the best thing since crispy pancakes, especially if it’s the uber-catastrophic No Deal version, and that the new temporary Prime Minister has, underneath all of his layers of zany comedic inanity, a hidden sense of gravitas about his job, and a real commitment to a fair and equal union of nations in the political partnership called Great Britain.

Are you convinced?

Ruth Davidson, still spitting feathers at her recent side-lining when it came to job applicants for the new Tory government overseer posts in Scotland, who made it very clear over the weekend that she’s not for ‘No Deal’ in any circumstances, although she fully supports the new Prime Minister, is due to meet with the Britannic hero later on, after he’s had a NAAFI coffee (that’ll teach him) to be told by him what her opinion actually is. Get the flip flops out of your tank Ruth, you’re going to need them again.

Meanwhile the party of the democratically elected government of Scotland must surely be poring over that cast iron political mandate they have and checking the calendar. It’s time for the comfy canvassing shoes to come out of the cupboard.

(Independence is normal, the political domination of neighbouring countries is not).

It’s on again


Before today’s post a big thank you once again to readers of this blog who usually view it on Facebook who have clicked the follow button on the host platform at:
Your response has been overwhelming. I managed to be Facebook ban free for half of Friday and most of Saturday, allowing me to post to indy Facebook groups yesterday’s blog entitled ‘Marginalised’. Only to subsequently attract two bans hard-running,as a result of posting the blog, meaning I’m banned again now until Monday breakfast time. Somebody somewhere is indeed making mischief. So the more folk who read the blog at WordPress and then post on the indy sites without me having to do it, the easier I’ll get around the attempts to gag me.

Anyway, back in the goldfish bowl of Scottish politics, according to our auld pals at the Hootsmon, yet another ‘SNP civil war’ has kicked off, and right at the time we could have been making inroads into convincing more of our countryfolk that self-government is the best option for Scotland’s future.

It’s all gone to shyte, the Twitter bickering that has been going on for some considerable time over the reform of the Gender Recognition Act, the perpetual rumbles of UDI theorists, the falling out of some of the main players in the hugely successful AUOB group, and apparently there is still some bitter factional infighting going on between the Nicolites and the Salmondistas, whilst Joanna Cherry waits in the wings poised to make a move for the big seat, is fracturing the Yes Movement severally, according to Dani Garavelli.

Things were going so well too, just when we have the rightest wing government in the Downing Street cabinet office since Mosley nearly got there. A regime which will surely see even many of our “I don’t do politics” friends and neighbours baulking at their cruel and withering policies, a government who are the greatest advert for Scottish independence since Michael Forsyth.

Aw well there’s nothing else for it. It’s time to get the tawtie scone launcher oot fae under the bed. Where did I put that telescopic sight?

Apparently, already the first elements of the Tarbolton Dragoon’s and darts team have made their way north and are expected to engage in heavy Barr’s Cream Soda skooshing under a hail of pizza crunch slices fired by the Letham Light Artillery, defending the north banks of the Forth, who have run out of their original ammo of forty Forfar Birdies fae Janey’s in the High Street.

There has been, what intercepted radio communications have described as, ‘ a bleachin’ at the Granada services roondaboot at Stirling as a coach load of pensioners from Fraserburgh, all fired up after a visit to the Bannockburn monument, came across a squadron of cut off Berwick Borderers who had unfortunately been hiding out amongst the undergrowth of the motorway junction.

It is kicking off! It is expected that authority will be given soon to break out the formerly banned highly toxic potted Hough tipped mouldy sausage rolls where life or limb is considered to be in danger. It’s gonnae get messy.

All other battalions of combatants are expected to report to their designated embarkation camp, and await further orders.

Much against the Scotsman’s view, (again) the Yes Movement is only going one way, forward to independence. Disagreements we will have, but when it comes to our purpose, our goal, we don’t, and won’t, fracture that easy.



Oh dear. As well as it not being a good week for inclusive progressive governance in the UK, (David Cameron’s much vaunted modernisation project of the Tory party now surely heading so far in reverse that it’s about to bump into Gamal Abdel Nasser) it certainly has also not been a great week for what passes for the Conservative and Unionist party in Scotland.

Rowdy Ruth Davidson, still beelin after news came in, whilst she was waxing her Challenger Tank, that her pal Davey, much against his wishes and ambitions, was set to return to the draughty back benches of the Commons, has now given herself a repetitive strain injury furiously rubbing the camouflage paint off the turret of her trusty vehicle at the further news that as well as wee Davey getting the hook,the new assistant Viceroy appointed to assist Davey’s replacement, Alister Jack, hasn’t the remotest connection to Scotland other than he once watched an episode of Hamish Macbeth.

Ruth’s gang of misfits, dodgy linesmen, landowners, careerists, with the occasional bigot sprinkled in here and there, and of course the MP for SNP Gain up in Aberdeen, who thought he was getting the big chair, didn’t get a sniff at the job, nothing, the middle of a doughnut.

Instead the last Prime Minister of the UK as it currently exists appointed Robin Caspar Walker, MP for Worcester, son of former Thatcher government minister Peter Walker, as parliamentary under- secretary at the Scotland Office.

Old Ruthster must be spitting pub style rosemary and sea salt crispy oven chips at that news.

After all that time her wee gang have spent cheerleading their London masters from the benches at Westminster, baying at the SNP members opposite, laughing like hyenas at any jibe uttered from their side of the chamber which insults the people of the country they are supposed to be representing, they got nothing, ignored, sidelined and marginalised. They are not trusted by the new increasingly further right-wing regime.

When that lot were elected at the last General Election, Ruth told anyone that would listen, several times, that they as Scottish Conservatives were there to stand up for Scotland, and if that meant voting against their London based head office, they would do so, and do so as a group. (That never happened).

We also keep hearing about how Ruth and her Scottish cohort see themselves as a separate entity, a Scottish Conservative party, not a branch of the UK Tories. Their campaign material on every occasion they’ve needed some has made an art form out of hiding the fact that they are actually part of a political party which has economically and socially decimated their country.

Here’s an idea Ruth. Break yourselves off officially. Don’t just threaten it, do it. Become an actual Scottish entity and lose the Unionist part of the party’s title, or just give it back to Boris Johnson, who has just added it to his job title. Leave the dynamic duo UnionJackMan & Robin to get on with helping to manage the parting of ways that is coming.

That way when independence arrives Scots who wish to vote for Conservative policies will have a party to vote for. Simples.

(Independence is normal, political domination of neighbouring countries is not).

P.S…. And right on cue I’ve attracted yet another 24 hour ban from posting to groups on Facebook.

“He didn’t get where he is today….”


Aw well… That’ll be that then eh. No sooner had wee Davey,the now former Viceroy of Joy’s, jaiket fell aff the shoogly peg, before we were being telt with some forcefulness, by his replacement (who on early first impressions and interviews clips, sounds like he’s gonnae be telling us repeatedly, like the catchphrase of a tv character in a 1970’s Leonard Rossiter comedy show’s ad Infinitum “I didn’t get where I am today ….etc”, how he’s bringing his magnificent business skills to the arena of politics to benefit us all) that we’re no’ getting a referendum and that’s final!

We had one on 2014 and that’s that, it’s settled, said Alister Jack, who clearly didn’t get where he is today without bringing his business acumen to bear on the awful separatists who bullied the state broadcaster’s Scottish lodge into not displaying frenzied British nationalist rituals at Glesga’s Proms in the Park a couple of years ago.

Not a note of Land of Hope and Glory, Jerusalem or Rule Britannia disturbed the evening air on Glasgow Green that night, much to the disgruntlement of the apoplectic business tycoon with the business skills needed to do the business on us vile normalists.

Wee Davey Mundell was a lot of things during the years of his political zenith, chinless, spineless, ethically challenged and moveable in principle in the protection of his shot at ermine, to name just a few, but he was always careful, unless under extreme pressure, to be respectful of the potential that the democratic will of the people he was, in name only, supposed to be representing, shifted in balance towards self-government. This guy? Not so much.

Like much of what now forms the cabinet of Westminster’s Brexit government Alister Jack’ s job will be to act as a blunt instrument. Others, like Raab C Brexit, Not Priti at all on the inside Patel and Michael, I used to be Scottish but didn’t like it, Gove, are there to apply blunt force and ignorance to the ordinary working folk of the UK, the EU, who will show them the toe end of their boot, and, in Raab’s case, to massage Trump’s ego.

Jack’s job is clearly to push Scotland to the limit and then call our bluff.

Every time I hear him speak, and he’s only been in the job for five minutes, I am reminded of my dear auld grandmother, and I picture thousands of Scots all across the country looking at their tv screens and thinking out loud the words my gran would have said listening to him….

“You’d better change that attitude laddie, and quick, or you and me are gonnae fall oot!”

(A quick update on my recent encounter of being targeted maliciously by person or persons unknown, resulting in multiple bans of posting this blog to Indy Facebook groups, following my plea below from yesterday’s blog post…

“Therefore can I ask this of you? In an effort to partially negate this shutdown of free speech, which is certainly not abusive or offensive, the intent is to shed light through humour, would you mind, if you are a regular reader of the blog on Facebook, and you haven’t done so before, clicking on the site page ‪‬ and click the ‘follow’ button?  This then will help reduce any reliance I have on having to post to Facebook myself, attracting a smack on the hand and a long stand in the social media bad boy corner. Feel free too to post the blog onto any indy sites you may be a member of”.

…… your response has been magnificent. Many thanks to everyone so far who has taken the time to follow the blog on WordPress, and then posted it on social media. This is certainly helping to overcome what looks like an attempt to shut me down).

Independence is normal.