Onwards to a 1950’s retro-fest

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Hi folks
 
A personal plea before today’s post. As a Scot firmly committed to my country returning to its rightful self-governing state I have been writing satirical political blogs and posts about Scottish sovereignty since 2013.

I established, and have been writing ‘itisintruthnotforglory’ now for over three and a half years. During all of this time I have posted my blogs to several of the many Facebook groups supportive of a self-governing Scotland, without the slightest hint of a problem. That is until the last five weeks. Almost every post I make now attracts a Facebook ban, four hours, up to two, or one occasion, three days.
 
Yesterday took the Tea cake. In light of the current tsunami of change in the government at Westminster I re-posted an innocuous poem I wrote in 2014 prior to the first referendum on Scottish independence, only to find that this post has attracted not one, but four separate Facebook suspensions barring me from posting anything to Facebook groups until a point in time on Friday.  I’ve tried appealing these but I get no response or I get a message telling me they are not able to deal with my query at this time.
 
This is all new to me. I’m not one for conspiracy theories but I suspect someone somewhere is playing mischief, or doesn’t like me pointing out anti-independence propaganda where I see it, or my use of phrases like Rowdy Ruth Davidson and the Viceroy of Joy (who for the umpteenth time hasn’t resigned again but topically has just misjudged his importance to the Empire 2 project).
 
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 ‪itisintruthnotforglory.wordpress.com‬ 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.

Anyway, on to the machinations at Westminster as the newly anointed last Prime Minister of the UK goes about the business of replacing one set of unprincipled right-wing self-servers with a new set of particularly extreme unprincipled right-wing self-servers, hell-bent on the destruction of everything in their path. Without the assurance of a mandate at a General Election ballot box Johnson is not just reshuffling a cabinet, he is removing, and swapping them wholesale. This is unprecedented without the authority of the electorate. It’s a coup without the tanks!

At this significant time of change I had planned to watch much of the coverage of the day’s political events, as the robotic Theresa May bowed out and the political world’s answer to Bernard Manning with a posh accent stepped into the spotlight, but only managed to get as far as a half hour’s coverage of the clownfest of the Commons chamber, as one by one the bobbers and weavers, following the archaic parliamentary procedures of the place, queued up to say what a great job the outgoing May had done. That was enough for me. Life is too short to waste it on that.

It occurred to me whilst watching what passes for the workings of government in the UK, this comic theatre, that surely anyone who is in a swither about whether the people of Scotland should govern themselves can surely see, if exposed to this out-dated music hall type nonsense for longer than the TV news soundbites, that anything going on in that chamber is not in the interests of progressive good governance. Small children mixing in a nursery playground are more productive.

After the dust had settled (the little old lady of London having been duly consulted) during his speech outside ‪10 Downing Street‬ in the afternoon, the new Premier described the nations of the disUnited Kingdom as the “awesome foursome that are incarnated in that red, white, and blue flag. Who together are so much more than the sum of their parts, and whose brand and political personality is admired and even loved around the world.”

Talk about blinkered, one-track and delusional! Interpreting that statement into its actual meaning is easy. It is great, this Union, we get to use up the assets and resources of two other countries and a bit of another one, which has partly escaped, without them all complaining too much, and we are so good at this con after years of ingrained indoctrination that the brand and political identification that is England (he does mean England, not the millions of ordinary good folk of England, the small elite establishment) gets away with it.

Oh how we laughed, if it had been funny, that the longstanding man of straw of Scottish politics, the Secretary of State Against Scotland, has been sacked. That brand new hub in Edinburgh, with its specially designed cabinet room, will never feel the tread of his brogues across its lush carpet. He gambled one last go at his tired tried and tested flip-flop resigning issue which turns into a sycophantic vote of confidence in the person or the policy he originally was threatening resignation about, and lost. It seems that Brexit’s new pin up boy has a long memory, as reports now coming out suggest that wee Davey was instrumental amongst the Scottish branch of the Tories in putting their penny’s worth in to central HQ to help kybosh Johnson’s last run at the big job in 2016. Oh well, the ermine cloak will have to wait a bit longer, although I’m not sure constitutionally how he will be placed in terms of ascending to the Lords once Scotland returns to independence. He’ll maybe need to drape a Harrods tea towel around his neck and just play pretendy Lord in front of a mirror instead.

His replacement seems fun. A hugely high profile Scottish Tory that hardly anybody has heard anything about. I had high hopes that the MP for SNP Gain, our friend from Aberdeen, would rise to the top, a blog writer’s dream. But even Boris Johnson is not that screamingly bonkers enough to appoint him to any position of responsibility. Having fawned over the new Prime Minister like Nicholas Witchell at a Buckingham Palace garden party for a good while now it’s clear, according to photos of said MP for SNP Gain yesterday, petted lip tripping him, that he is not best pleased with the reshuffle outcome. His Clark’s Kicker’s won’t be leaving any tread marks on the fancy new carpet in the New Waverley Hub either.

No, we’re going to have Alister Jack, another effort from Big Hairy Fermer country, but with a personal fortune of a gazillion spondooliks and some acreage. Och well then, he’ll surely be attuned to the needs of the common people. According to a Twitter wag this morning a Scottish Tory ‘frontbencher’ is quoted as saying “Alister is capable but the reason he is so popular with the UK party is because he invites ministers to his country estate.”

As this and many other of Boris Johnson’s first moves in government show, Jacob Rees-Mogg being appointed Leader of the House of Commons being another, the UK is heading for a forward to the past 1950’s political retro-fest. If only the Suez crisis had never happened eh! Dark times indeed.

Scotland has a way out of this. Independence is normal, and increasingly independence is an imperative.

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A Nation

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A Nation
 
A land of purple heather, of bothies and of glens,
of castles, and of monuments, of mighty snow-capped Bens.
A harsh and brutal landscape the Romans could not tame,
Its beauty takes your breath away, it’s never twice the same.
 
Deep inside, a nation’s soul, imbedded to survive.
Scots overcome adversity, to flourish side by side.
Innovation, ingenuity, strong passions to succeed.
With a conscience for the greater good, not besmirched by greed.
 
You can sing old songs and ballads bloody,
Of loss and daring do.
Of freedom, and of heroes gone,
of tyranny, past and new.
 
But unless you stand up and take that leap,
and have faith to cut the ties,
the lads of Eton and their like,
will continue to exploit you with their lies.
 
A defiant anthem dearly held in its proud refrain,
In the past, days of glory, they must always remain.
But it is time to step forward now, old Union is on the wane,
and grasp self-determination, to be a Nation again.
 
 
Ally Farquhar (2014)

“Never cast a cloot…”

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So there we have it. The marmalade-stained ballot paper, casually misplaced within the supplement pages of the Mail on Sunday and then found again, has been wiped with a cloth by a Polish cleaning lady, working for a pound less an hour than minimum wage, and a cross has been placed in the appropriate place. England expects.
 
Barring a miracle it seems likely that  the next tenant of ‪10 Downing Street‬ will be someone whom only a year or two ago the vast majority of voters would have laughed at if his name had been mentioned in connection with the role he is about to take over, before Brexit. Like his counterpart across the Atlantic it would have been considered unthinkable that someone like him could ascend to such a position, a crass joke. Yet here we are.
 
What now for Scotland? Five years of Westminster procrastination and inertia. Stick to the party line, do not deviate, do not concede that circumstances have changed, although they have and are soon to alter drastically .

Repeat ad-nauseam ‘ The people of Scotland have had their once in a generation say, they want to shelter from life’s ills, safely pooling and sharing resources amid the broad shoulders of our precious union’. Do not, whatever you do, accept that the voters of Scotland have, at the ballot box, given their political representatives a legitimate mandate to seek their views further on how they see their future best served. Deny this fact at every opportunity.

Always, always refer to the party of Scottish government and majority in Scottish representation at the palace of Westminster incorrectly as the Scottish ‘Nationalist’ Party.  The way of Theresa May.
 
Ruffling his own hair just prior to TV interviews, getting into bumbling character, appearing confused, turning on the charm, the personable one-liner’s, rambling in the Latin of a character in a Victorian novel of dazzling Empire. This is another political creature altogether, chameleon-like and not to be under-estimated. We’ll see what he wants us to see of him, and no more. Outwardly a loose cannon, we’ve never really seen what lies beneath.
 
It has already been mooted that one of his first acts as Prime Minister will involve a trip to Scotland to demonstrate his commitment to the union. However in so doing there are no plans during this visit for him to meet with the First Minister of Scotland. He doesn’t want to appear like a visiting politician from another country coming to Scotland when he is the Prime Minister of Great Britain, all of it, his advisors say, thus too avoiding the potential for a second Westminster Prime Minister in a row to be photographed with the First Minister at Bute House with the symbolic backdrop of the saltire flag of Scotland dominating the scene (the absence of the flag of union not playing well in the London-based media).
 
He’s a meddler, with a string of headline ideas turning to expensive dust, if the stories of his time as London mayor are correct (riot control water cannons anyone, or 46 million pounds of public money spent on a city garden bridge which never got to construction phase perhaps?) We can all see the obvious dangers of translating that dubious form into the leadership of a government.
 
He’s made it clear he intends to campaign strongly to revive the image of the union in Scotland. Therefore prepare to be drowning in red, white and blue, military open days, royal visits, the Red Arrows will come zooming out of clouds of E-cigarette vapour in a town near you sometime soon, and the airwaves will be awash with even more nostalgic street party-like Great British TV. ‘We had rationing for fourteen years until 1954 so Brexit will be easy’, ‘let’s have a singsong around the piano’, ‘plucky Jock knows the score’.
 
There is a school of thought that the rise of yet another of the Bullingdon Club to the top of the political pile will hasten the return of self-government for Scotland. It is thought that what looks like being the inevitable interference from the incoming Premier in aspects of the devolution settlement, messing with the Barnett formula, promoting direct funding from London in Scotland, involving Scottish Tories who have no portfolio in decision-making whilst ignoring the legitimate government of Scotland, and building provincial bases in Edinburgh and Glasgow, complete with cabinet meeting rooms, will be too much for Scottish voters to accept.  Scots will baulk at any attempt to rollback twenty years of devolution. The tipping point will be reached.
 
I hope for the sake of the Scotland’s future that this is correct. However the last thing we should do is under-estimate the man’s ability to use smoke and mirrors to get his way. He’s worth the watching.

Standing up for Scotland? Aye right

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Who would have guessed it? (Just about everybody with a pulse, and even an iota of interest in Scottish politics I would think). The Scottish Tory fanboys, and girls, are at it again, flashing their knicker elastic at Boris Johnson as he ascends to the lofty position of being the last Prime Minister of a long worn out union.
 
The member for SNP gain, his pal with the dodgy offside flag and slippery moulded studs, and the rest of the loathsome  band of unionist tools of the establishment, and tools they are indeed, joined the Viceroy, still high on the prospects of his shiny new office building, in trying to pave the way for Johnson to lock down Westminster, stopping all parliamentary business, and forcing through a no-deal Brexit.

A cunning dastardly plan cooked up by some real dastards to side-step the fact that the majority of MP’s at Westminster are no’ as daft as they look, and are therefore entirely against the mental self-immolating idea of leaving the European Union with nothing but the holes in the arses of their troosers, and yesterday’s nut from the top of a walnut whip.
 
What happened to those heady post-election days when these Scottish pillars of democracy posed for team phoaties at the foot of the cliff that Stirling Castle sits upon, facing  Dumbarton Road, at the spot where the convoys of nuclear missiles come rumbling down the road on a regular basis, with Rowdy Ruth Davidson, who keeps disappearing every time she might be asked an awkward question about the wildly dysfunctional political party she works for, (apparently as we career headlong into the maelstromashic prospect of an idiot in power on both sides of the Atlantic plus Brexit she has been oot in her back garden building a shed).
 
In those early days of 2017 this lot were telling us how they were going to be a voice for Scotland, holding power to account, working together to ensure the views of Scotland’s people are paramount in their every political step forward, even if it meant going against the party line. Ruth told us that, all resolute and leader-like.  What happened to all of that?
 
They’ve voted entirely on party political lines ever since, that’s what’s happened to that, and some of them, we all know who, salivate, sook, batter their eyelashes, laugh like a hyena in all the right places, clap like a crowd scene at a Kim Jongh-il poetry recital in Pyongyang, and wallow in sycophancy every time the shaggy-headed former Bullingdon Club member gets within five feet of them.  One in particular clearly thinks he’s top of the list to become the next Viceroy of Joy, heaven help us.
 
These people, voted in to their positions of responsibility and privilege by the people of Scotland, have just tried to help an entirely unqualified ego-maniac to cause a financial catastrophe for their own country as well as the country Scotland is governed by, for the sake of their own careers. Just think about that for a minute.
 
Thankfully they were foiled.
 
Scotland has a way out of this, it’s called independence, the normal status of most other countries in the world. It’s time that happened.

P.S Something in this post has just got me banned temporarily from posting to groups on Facebook, therefore if you have managed to read it could you please share it in any indy group pages you are a member of, seeing as I can’t. Many thanks.

No, no. Look over here! Look at me!

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Nurse! Nurse! He’s out again. That shoogly lock on the bedroom window of the manse has snapped off again. There’s been an intervention, an intervention which has taken place in the intervening period since the last time he intervened just after his previous intervention.

Gordy Broon is once again front and centre, or wide right then centre, then wide left then centre, repeat until the mixture thickens, if you take into consideration the 10,000 step workout he must get pacing back and forwards in front of his regular captive audience of wilting interventioneestas, their heids swivelling back and forth following his movements, like kittens following a torch beam.
 
This time he is launching a new think tank called, wait for it, ‘Our Scottish Future’. It’s time to put the positive case forward for the union, says Gordy, the progressive case for Scotland and Scotland’s role in Britain. It’s gonnae be great, it’s gonnae be upbeat, optimistic, constructive and self-affirming.

Therefore naturally the inaugural event for this new think tank, to be staged next month in Edinburgh, is to focus solely on ripping the pish right out of the SNP’s plans for a Scottish pound in a return to the days of our old friend Project Fear’s “what currency will you use?” mantra. Yes, that sounds pretty upbeat and positive about making the union’s case, doesn’t it.
 
Browns’ choice of words at the launch of this organisation (maybe they can borrow Ruth Davidson’s tank to think in) was revealing. He talked of speaking up for “mainstream” Scots, and making a “progressive” case for the union.  Gordy still thinks, in his dotage, that there is a vast Labour supporting public in Scotland, and hasnae quite grasped that those that he considers the mainstream have long since seen through the neo-liberal New Labour experiment that he was so central in creating with his pal, and sometime rival, the Hague dodger.

He doesn’t have any clout with the mainstream of Scottish society anymore because that mainstream have remained committed to their political roots, championing social justice, supporting public services, promoting fairness and equality, whilst his party completely lost the plot, in ways that would have their founders spinning in their graves, becoming an irrelevant shadow of their former selves, an organisation almost indistinguishable from the established elite they were originally set up to fight against.
 
As each day passes the number of that “mainstream” of Scots who are waking up to the idea that the only way to achieve progressive governance for their country which fits with their views and their aspirations for the future is to take the ordinary step of becoming a normal self-governing member of the family of nations of the world is increasing. The lights are coming on all over Scotland, the momentum is building, and Gordy simply does not get that.

Labour votes are not weighed in Scotland anymore Gordon, they are framed and put on display in museums as relics of the past. We have long memories. You are living in the past and your party is not coming back.
 
Taking the biscuit, in fact taking the biscuit tin, the quote from Brown on this occasion most likely to cause anyone with any knowledge of politics in Scotland and the UK at all to choke on a gub full of rice crispies, causing recycled milk to fire out of a nostril onto any unsuspecting breakfast partners this morning, is a classic, a red neck you simply couldnae paint on this fella, “ There’s no chance of breaking free of austerity under the SNP” he says.

Can you believe it?  This is a man, when he was Prime Minister, who spent a fortune in public money bailing out the banks, dramatically increasing the national debt, and giving the Tories who then ousted him the perfect excuse to follow an austerity for everybody else but themselves agenda ever since.

Thanks for that Gordon. Back into the wardrobe for you, as soon as we find where you dumped your straitjacket.
 
Independence is entirely normal. The case for it is becoming more compelling and urgent by the day.

Reasserting control

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News just in that the UK Government have taken the very unusual step of naming something big, new and shiny, that is being built at taxpayer’s expense, after a wee auld lady of unimaginable wealth born into unelected privilege and luxury whilst surrounded by sycophantic worship. 

Wow! We never seen that one coming! It’s no’ like they’ve ever done it before. No, and we can rest assured, sleeping easy, that no politician, or member of a committee responsible for the naming of said big new shiny something, built at taxpayer’s expense, will at some point end up on either on one knee having a sword rattled off their shooder or leaning over a bit to let the wee auld dear reach up to pin a bit of silver with a fancy ribbon on their left tit. Naw, that will never happen.

Yes folks, as reported by the propaganda arm of the state, the governor of our North British province, wee Davey Mundell’s, “flagship’ multi-million pound new seven-storey hub in Edinburgh will be called Betty’s Building, just for a change!

Davey, in his role as Viceroy of Joy, is said to be absolutely delighted, ecstatic in his windy verbal emissions, asserting that the royal title is hugely fitting, as his hub will focus on wee Betty’s London government’s work in Scotland, oh and it might also help Davey’s chances of an early entry to the Lords if he prattles on like Nicholas Witchell on pints of lager tops and gin and Red Bull halfs long enough for everybody to hear how wonderfully wonderful it all is.

Taking a more serious tone for just a moment, like many others of an independence-mind when it comes to Scotland, I’m starting to get more than just a wee bit edgy about the purpose and intent of these hubs that are springing up (they are building one in Glesca as well) particularly as the aforementioned Secretary of State Against Scotland is also falling over himself to let us know that his hub will contain a dedicated cabinet room, the only one of its kind outside London, in which the government which usually govern Scotland from another country, can meet and do their business from.  

I know they’ve listed the departments moving in, including the tax man, the Advocate General and the H&S Executive, but there could be, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see, a move being made to limit the funding provision (of our own money) at Holyrood in favour of direct spending from London (of our own money)via this northern base, backed up by that huge red, white and blue publicity campaign (again that you are paying for) that we’ve been hearing about recently. After all they’ll know better about how money should be spent in your country than you do.

Maybe too this spanking new facility will be so state-of-the-art that wee Davey, when he finds that politically he has to make himself scarce, as he does now again when him or his colleagues at Westminster say something daft or announce a policy that would give a snowman a red neck (when it happen to Ruth Davidson she just hangs out in her tank for a week) can comfortably munch on his snack-beard from a meeting room onsite, whilst speaking by high definition video link to the bemused and bewildered people of the Republic of Kiribati in the central Pacific Ocean, telling them that nobody wants an independence referendum and that the vile separatists have a one track mind when it comes to vile separatism, without actually having to fly there business class.

We’ll save a fortune. The UK’s debt in Scotland, or as it’s otherwise known the GERs cloud of doom, will be slashed virtually overnight.

I think the growing numbers of Scots who are awakening their minds to the idea of their country becoming normal, like most other countries in the world, making all the major decisions which impact their nation, will see through any attempts at smoke and mirrors.

However the Westminster government are worth the watching. They’ve got centuries of form at this stuff. There’s an old imperial saying that goes something like this. ‘Why does the sun never set on the British Empire? Because you can’t trust them in the dark.” It’s not wrong. Beware.

A note passed under the door

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The Right Honourable Theresa May, Jeremy Rhyming Slang,and Boris de Pfeffel Mumbling Bumbling Johnson, (whichever of you is actually the Prime Minister of England and the subjugated surrounding countries it shares land borders with, and a bit of the island of Ireland)
Number 10 Downing Street, Metropolis, ‘The Smoke’ City State.

Dear Prime Minister/s

Yooz are a pure rid neck. You’ve really gone and done it now. Lumping us in with your narrow-minded dead empire xenophobia like that.

How dare you suggest to rooms full of your own sycophants and an adoring media that the people of Scotland will never have the opportunity to be normal like most every other country in the world. In fact how dare you go to the extent of competing with each other to see who can appear to be the most punitive amongst you in your treatment of a country you do not understand. How dare you indeed.

For many centuries before the early 18th century predecessors of your pals, assorted crooked bankers, wankers, businessmen, landed gentry and Lords, corruptly bribed their way into taking control of our lands we in Scotland had well-established trading and cultural links with mainland Europe, the Low Countries and Scandinavia.

France was our big pal, we had our “auld alliance” we traded together, we ate together, when required we stood shoulder to shoulder together, often on the quiet again you, we even had a regiment in their army, and importantly we drank claret together. Don’t even think of labelling us with your small minded isolationist arrogance.

We’re not going with you. As the clever social media meme says “ if we don’t go with what you gonnae dae, get the polis?”

We all know, and the leadership of the European Union in particular know, that you are still just playing for time. You’ve had your extension, you chose to go on holiday and hold a leadership contest, and lo and behold Parliament is just about to have another summer recess, at a time when the biggest economic disaster to befall the UK since the Black Death is on the horizon.

You’ve no plan, no clue about how you are going to cope with exiting Europe, and relying solely on the only thing Britain is good at, making repetitive arrogant demands with nothing to back up your confidence.

Why not just admit that a bunch of screwed up overprivileged racists and muppets like Farage, Gove, Fox and Johnson, along with the Daily Mail and Express, conned the people of England into thinking the European Union is the devil incarnate? Just tell them you are very sorry about that and can we please just forget it ever happened?

Yours in disgust.

The people of Scotland, who are rapidly getting normal without any need to ask your permission to do so.

What a sook

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Wae that flyaway hair ae his, like a coo appearing through the mist, the dishevelled de Pfeffel stumbles on through what appears to be an interminable selection process to become the next high heid yin of the executive branch of the privileged class of the UK. 

Take heed, (not heid) said the EU in March, use the time of the extension you’ve been given well, for there is no scope for wasted moments at this stage of the debacle which is Brexit. The Tories promptly went on holiday, drank loads of Pimms at sporting events and garden parties, and decided to do nothing more than have an internal bunfight about who their next leader is. Arrogance is not strong enough a word to describe how they are, and pride surely comes before a fall.
 
In Scotland de Pfeffel’s fanboy, he really is a wee nyaff, the member for SNP Gain (what were the folk of Aberdeen South smoking on the day of the last general election?) defends and praises his every move, his every utterance, almost like the Bullingdon blusterer is channelling a mix of Churchill, Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Harry Enfield’s Tim Nice But Dim all rolled into one. 
 
His latest lickspittle defence of the shaggy-heided latin speaker, who effectively pushed the UK’s representative to the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, which the White House has become, into resigning earlier than his planned retirement, by not publicly sticking up for the diplomat in the face of a veritable avalanche of toys being chucked out the presidential pram, is beyond the pale. According to Ross Thomson diplomats telling the truth in private correspondence, doing their job, shouldn’t be defended if they inadvertently poke the ego of narcissistic maniacs who are in charge of nuclear codes, and that must be right because Boris Johnson said so, so there.
 
Thomson has clearly had a gander at the new Waverley Hub plans of wee Davey, the Secretary of State Against Scotland’s, new office. No expense is being spared on this pristine architectural representation of the British state in Scotland (the expense of course coming out of the pockets of the people of Scotland).

Gone are the days when Ross and wee Davey would turn up at Holyrood in a removal van dressed in long brown coats, pencil behind the ear, blag their way in, and then embarrassingly get caught red-handed on either end of a committee room table by a security guard, because they’d managed to wedge it in the doorway whilst trying to sneak furniture out to be rehomed in the Scotland Office. Oh no, there’ll be no need for that now. Money is no object, there is a provincial empire to be built.    
 
Ross likes what he sees and he reckons once his patron bumbles his way into Downing Street wee Davey will be for the Joe the Toff, and he will be crowned the new Viceroy of Joy. Just think about that for a minute.

For the people of Scotland there is an alternative.
 
Independence is normal. It is coming, maybe sooner than we think.

The worrying rise of normality in Scotland

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Well,  would you credit that? Roused from the deep slumber of three years of perpetual inertia by her impending launch, heid first, into an unsuspecting hay field, with the words “Bolt hen” ringing in her ears, the soon to be former Disco Dancing Diva of Downing Street is trying, like the wee Dutch fella with the sodden finger, to stop a flood, a flood of enlightenment, a veritable Tsunami of blossoming democracy and confidence amongst the populace of Scotland in their own selves to do as good, in fact to do a much better job, at governing their future, than the government imposed on them from another country.
 
Fresh from her Gordy Broon-like ‘save the humphy-backed broad shooders  of our Preciousssssss Union’ intervention the other day she’s now chairing hurried meetings of senior lackeys in what’s being called the ‘Union Cabinet’ worried that the house of straw which unionism now represents to most folk, when considering the relationship which now exists between Scotland and the neighbour to the south which governs Scotland, is about to blow away into the English channel (not the BBC, the watery one).
 
Under heavy fire from howitzer rounds of tattie scones, sharpened edged square sliced and last week’s mutton pies Theresa has been swamped, amid calls from several of the aforementioned lackeys, amongst them David Lidlingtonlinglidton- tinlid, to do something about the worrying rise of normality in Scotland. Quick Prime Minister, they cry, the Scotch are acting like they live in a normal country anywhere else in the world, we can’t have that!
 
After a particularly persistent belligerent deep fried tomato pizza, wrapped roon a pickled ingin, managed to evade all attempts by the anti-aircraft defence battery set up in Downing Street to  stop it and splattered full force into the Cabinet office windae, leaving an awfy mess, it appears that the ‘Union Cabinet’ have decided that they need to now concentrate on strengthening and sustaining the Union by going on to Plan X, a permanent campaign focus to fight off the separatistas (celestial beings save us!).
 
This new plan will of course mean that they are gonnae have to spend a fortune, tens of millions of pounds, in a huge propaganda campaign to make the case for the Union. You’ll no’ be able to hear yourselves think shortly for the noise of the Red Arrows circling above you in the sky, loopin the loop, forming the words Precccccccious and Union as they go.

Ye thought you’d seen enough union flags in your supermarkets, atop your local council buildings and polis stations and attached to the arms of Neanderthals in the month of July. You ain’t seen nothing yet! Big hairy fermers, swarthy north east fishermen, pet unionist Whisky magnates, Mr Oil and Gas  (and fishing on the side) who tells us, when it suits his masters, that the oil has went into hiding again, all of them will be dragged out to tell us online, in the HootsmonHerald, and on the state broadcaster, how great life is under the protection of another country’s governance.

That hub that they’ve just built for wee Davey, the stuttering Viceroy of Joy, will be a hive of activity. There will be civil servants tripping over themselves to be productive on this project in a hot desking frenzy of Britannic bliss and Empire biscuits.
 
Guess what? You are going to be paying for that. Any money spent will be allocated to Treasury funds spent on Scotland’s behalf, and will inevitably turn up as part of the UK’s debt in Scotland, or as it’s otherwise known, part of the accumulation of the annual GERS report. Westminster will spend your tax money to benefit the image of the Union in your country, and then they can say, as they always do, as part of that confidence trick that they perpetuate, helped by the media, to convince your friends and neighbours that Scotland has a huge debt it is responsible for, that we are too wee, too poor and, in this case not sufficiently aware of the facts to think otherwise. A double whammy! Fly eh….
 
Time to go folks, it really is. Independence is normal.

If you say something often enough

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Where do they get their information? What facts exist which substantiate their comments?

Breakfast and daytime TV show nonentity talking heads from the south of England who’ve never been further north than Walthamstow, radio broadcasters, contenders in tedious convoluted snail’s pace races to become Prime Minister, children’s book writers, ‘celebrities’ who profess to love their precious union and have a sudden deep yearning passion for a country they’ve never been to but “always wanted to visit.” Where do they get their knowledge of Scottish affairs?

Where is the conclusive evidence which backs up their consistent public proclamations that the people of Scotland have no appetite for self-government, and their assertions that the spark has gone out of the Yes movement.
 
If you are a watcher and believer of polls (I personally don’t pay too much attention to them, the only poll I believe in is held at the ballot box) all the signs are at the independence juggernaut is climbing the gears, gathering pace, and is now consistently achieving the numbers in the various accepted ‘reputable’ polls to have dyed in the wool red, white and blue unionists pacing the drawing room floor in the wee small hours.

(Sir) John Curtice himself, the state’s pet psephologist, who is wheeled out regularly to tell us that Indy is making no ground amongst voters, has recently started to change his tune and was last seen heading for a flight to Bora Bora, in his St George and the Dragon leisure trunks, with his regal trinket in one hand and his abacus in the other.

Consider too the impact of the recent internal Tory government secret squirrel polling on the question of the Union, carried out by Ipsos Mori, the results of which, being secret squirrel, have not been released to the public, despite an FOI request being made by the SNP’s Tommy Sheppard, and significantly have not been leaked. (You can guarantee that they would have been if they had been favourable to retaining the precious broad shoulders).

The results of this polling exercise apparently have been so significant that they have prompted much whispering in dark corners, dissolving of bowels, and scurrying for high ground in Whitehall.

(Cue Darth Vader theme from Star Wars as a Yes campaigner on a rickshaw accompanies train loads of panicked unionist politicians through Glasgow city centre).

So it surely isn’t the polls that’s giving the talking heads their information.
 
Then we see that every other week, it seems, thousands of ordinary Scots of all ages, origins, creeds, colours and the eclectic mix of the communities which make Scotland what it is, gather in a town or city, and demonstrate their commitment to the right to assert the sovereign will of the people.

Only a few days ago, in the seaside town of Ayr, many thousands turned up, way over the expected turnout, to do that very thing, in sharp contrast to the sinister hate-filled outdated (by about three hundred years) unionist marches seen across the Central Belt in the month of July.

These demonstrations of the positive will of the people of Scotland to govern themselves is growing, gathering pace and numbers exponentially as those in London in power dig themselves deeper into a right-wing isolationist mire and insult the democratic decisions made by Scotland’s voters by telling them they can’t have what they have democratically decided they will have.

When you look at footage of these celebrations, these coming together occasions, the diversity, the good humour and camaraderie on show, the determination to endure, and to win, you can’t help but think that independence is somehow inevitable.

So it isn’t these gatherings, growing in popularity as they are, which gives those with media prominence the confidence to say assuredly that Scotland is as strongly unionist as Winston the bulldog’s farts.

So what can it be?

Oh, I’ve got it! It’s propaganda.