A bunch of chancers

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You really have to question exactly what it is the British Conservative and Unionist Party’s representatives in Scotland are actually for other than to undermine the right of Scotland’s people to make decisions for themselves and those who advocate that entirely normal and sensible postulation.

We’re weeks away from their lords and masters in London destroying a relationship with the planet’s biggest free trading bloc, creating mayhem, an act of economic and cultural vandalism beyond the understanding of those who instigated it, financial self-immolation on a scale never seen before, all because of an internal party power struggle between various factions of self-entitled right wing politics trying to establish which side’s nanny had the biggest wart on her forehead, and what are the ProudScotButteries getting their red, white and blue Y-fronts in a twist about? An SNP Car Tax which doesn’t actually exist.

There are many ways to fool the electorate, to spin and deceive, and my goodness over the years the Tories have deployed most of them but this is a cracker.

The Scottish Government, in a salve tae the Greens following the Scottish budget negotiations, propose a discretionary tax raising power for local councils, you know, a bit of devolution, power at a local level, to charge a workplace parking levy if they choose to do so. This is not mandatory. It’s a proposal being consulted upon.It hasn’t even been drafted yet.

Deputy Dawg of the British government’s northern and lucrative province branch, Jackson Carloan (would you buy a Capri Ghia from that man Rodney?) fresh from his pronouncement the other day that Ruth Davidson is ‘likely’ to be the next First Minister of Scotland, had the masses ranks (literally tens of them) of Young Conservatives up and down the country hitting the streets, down among the real people, where the action is, to protest against this cruel SNP Tax, which, as mentioned before, doesn’t exist.

They know that they are promoting an untruth, spinning a falsehood to the Scottish public, but their blinkered one track focus on SNP Bad supersedes everything else. They are oblivious.

Meanwhile Brexit starts to smoulder as their overlords in the British state starts talking about increasing its ‘lethality and mass’.Mental.

‘Precious unionism’ in the control of a bunch of chancers makes no sense for Scotland. It is harmful. They are dragging us down and holding us back. Launch the lifeboats soon First Minister, please.

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When Hell freezes over

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There is delusional and then there is just plain bonkers. News that deputy heid yin of the British Conservative and Unionist Party in their distant but lucrative province of Scotland, Jackson Carloan, reckons that Ruth Davidson is ‘likely’ to be Scotland’s next first minister clearly indicates that the man needs to find himself a non-hermetically sealed cupboard (for we mean no harm to the afflicted) in a quiet corner of a very quiet house in an equally quiet street to go and have a nice wee quiet lie down in. The plot he’s clearly lost.
 
Yes, we, attuned to the gold fish bowl of Scottish political life, know that we find ourselves steeped on a daily basis in a great big skittery toilet bowl of unionist propaganda, propaganda which for years, up until relatively recently, used to make many Scots who were starting to wisen up to the realities of ‘pooling and sharing’ in ‘our precious union’ give up, say this is all too hard, and turn over the channel to be zombified by three hours of Great British cake decorating on ice whilst exploring country houses of the Home Counties and eating the shrunken teste of an unfortunate Kangaroo from the colonies. We’ve even paid for a licence to be subjected to it! But this, this is a spin too far.
 
The political party which Ruth Davidson has represented, and will again once she returns to the political arena, have ravaged Scotland. It has torn the life out of many communities. The results of its actions in the latter quarter of the 20th century, its policies, its experiments, its vendettas, all are still prevalent today in Scotland. The decimation of industry and manufacturing, the hardship, the misery, the untold damage on the physical and mental health of thousands of Scots, the planned poverty, the foodbanks, the asset stripping, the making of a fast buck, the diversion of capital funding to feed the needs of the city state, all are directly attributable to them.
 
That same political party are about to cause further untold economic, social and cultural damage by completely ignoring the democratic will of the people of Scotland, 62% of whom voted for their country to remain as a member of the European Union, a privilege we were advised by Unionists we would lose if we voted for self-government in 2014.  We don’t matter. They can tell us anything they like, there are no consequences.
 
You can doctor as many TV studio audiences in post-industrial areas of Scotland with clusters of right-wing heid-bangers as you like, trying to falsely portray a semblance of popularity (Michael Forsyth being cheered in Motherwell is about as clear a demonstration of that as you are ever likely to see). You can, in extremely unusual times, (post Indy and Brexit referendums) convince some of a certain ilk to vote for the likes of the imbecilic Ross Thomson and the rest of the ProudScotbut Tory cheerleading band at Westminster by deploying a campaign based on a binary Yes/No to a self-governing Scotland, but never, ever, ever will Ruth Davidson be the first minister of a devolved parliament of Scotland, not even in coalition, not even in her dreams.
 
 

England expects

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“Dashed inconvenient this is Speed. My father didn’t splash out the family loot on my commission into the navy for this damned lark. He’d spin in his box, the guvnor, if he knew!” 

Lt Commander Jeremy Speedicut-Hindmarsh-Toalyfart turned towards his companion, Commander Harry Brexitman (RN MBE MM, and as a teenager many years before a former contestant styled as a yuppie on Blind Date), and concurred.

“I agree Brex. This should never have happened. The admiralty should never have put you in this position. How can you possibly convert a Thames pleasure craft into a vessel capable of carrying a squadron of Eurofighters up into the mouth of the Yangtze River to fly the flag and carry out forward area training sorties over Hunan Province? It can’t be done. We’d need to strip the DJ’S sound system out and the mirrored dance floor just to cobble together a makeshift flight deck, and what about the mounted cannons, where are they going to fit?”
 
“Stop calling them Eurofighters Speed, it’s not a thing these days. I was reading a confidential Defence report the other day prepared by that idiot politico with the whining voice, Williamson, that says we are rebranding all of our fighter jets as Super Spitfires.

Anyway, I’m writing to the admiral of the fleet to express my concern that this new mission would take me away from my primary duty of the last year since March 2019. The daily flotilla of sailing boats, barges and paddle steamers evacuating sunburned ‘expats’ along with their bottles of HP sauce, flip flops and teabags off the hostile beaches of the Costa del Sol needs me to continue as their convoy commander, otherwise they may lose the Dunkirk spirit. They must get through.”
 
Face flushing with pride Toalyfart stood solidly to attention, his backbone ramrod straight before his superior officer. With a plucky grin on his ninth generation Eton College face he exclaimed “You must admit old chap we’re in exciting times, England is back!”

‘Nae mair, nae mair’

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Dear goodness. There it is, there it is exactly, Brexit in the shell of a nut.

The speech by Tory Defence Secretary Gavvie Williamson CBE (the former fireplace salesman who took over after Tory Central HQ discovered that Sir Michael Fallon was a bit touchy feely and also deeply traumatised after Bernard Ponsonby asked him to answer a straight question about defence shipbuilding contracts with a straight answer) making a speech at the Royal United Services Institute yesterday really gave us the insight into what we all already suspected was the truth about Greater Great Grrr Britain’s divorce from the EU.

It’s a last desperate attempt by a former Imperial power, whose chickens have all come home to roost as they inevitably would eventually, to try and still appear relevant in a world that increasingly finds them irrelevant. Kind of pathetic really, and the bold Gavvie has helped confirm it.
 
Who writes these Tory government speeches, Alf Garnett’s grandson? It’s frightening stuff. It’s Raleigh, it’s Marlborough, It’s Nelson, It’s Haig, It’s good old Monty, It’s Bomber Harris, It’s plucky steadfast Winnie, it’s boak inducing, it really is.

Williamson, who has one of those voices that engender that feeling of teeth grinding and hairs standing up on the back of your neck when someone runs a nail down the side of a corrugated shed, tells us, in that fake sincere rhythmic nonsense speak, whilst his head meanders from side to side, a style that he seems to share with his robotic leader, that “Brexit has brought us to a great moment in our history. A moment when we must strengthen our global presence (by cutting ourselves off from being a member of the biggest free trading bloc in the world), enhance our lethality and increase our mass.”
 
What exactly does he mean? The Oxford Living Dictionaries definition of the word ‘Lethality’ is as follows “The capacity to cause death or serious harm or damage”.

Therefore Gavvie, Alf’s grandson, the Disco Dancing Diva of Downing Street, the  Churchill-channelling Johnson, and the host of hooray numpties of the Whitehall Brexiteer drinking and cigar club , are mad keen, in fact positively slavering, at the prospects of enhancing Britain’s ability to kill human beings for profit and the glory of the old school tie, what.

Gavvie goes on to tell us with an element of self-delusion that “We (Britain) should be the nation that people can turn to when the world needs leadership,”

I think he’ll find achieving that aim a bit of a problem seeing as generally in the past British ‘leadership’ was achieved by force on whatever part of the world the British state felt at the time could be used to best serve their purposes. The old question ‘Why doesnt the sun ever set over the British Empire? (originally referring to the wide ranging size of the lands once under Imperial power)and the response ‘Because you can’t trust the bastards in the dark’ comes to mind, once bitten etc.
 
Really folks, these nutters are living in a past where a quarter of the world didn’t spend decades painfully extricating themselves from a global menace who had spent long years asset stripping  their countries and shipping it all back to country houses in the Home Counties, a past where the Suez Crisis never existed, a past where the post-war miracle of the NHS and the welfare state didn’t happen, a past where millions around the globe suffered in the name of “bringing British civilisation to the world”.
 
Well I tell you what, that isnae Scotland’s future. It’s the 21st century. We are getting out of this. It’s time to launch the lifeboat. There’s a phrase in a song written by Hamish Henderson invoking the spirit of John Maclean that sums it up best. “Nae mair, nae mair’.
 
Indeed, nae mair.

Up to the knees in propaganda

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I dunno what’s worse, the BBC ‘fixing’ the audiences of Question Time in Scotland, or the BBC expecting its viewing audience no’ tae notice that they ‘fix’ the audiences of Question Time in Scotland.

I thought the programme a while back  from Dundee could not be beaten for demonstrable contrived heavily weighted and biased political theatre (clearly I and many others hadn’t  the first clue that Dundee was actually a strong Tory hotbed, belying its voting record, so much so that nobody there actually seemed to speak with a recognisably Dundonian accent, who knew?) but last night’s effort from Motherwell took the digestive and a whole packet of jammy dodgers.
 
Clearly the fine people of the former steel town have forgiven ex-Tory poster boy and Thatcher acolyte, sook and lickspittle Michael Forsyth (for our younger readers he was to Margaret Thatcher what Ross Thomson, prior to his seven too many gin and tonics this week, was to Boris Johnson’s inflated ego, only more so, if that is possible). Ach it was only a couple of big chimneys, some factories and the odd ruined life here and there, let bygones be bygones eh. Very magnanimous of them, particularly too considering, like Dundee, their voting record.
 
Then there was the revolving, revolting, re-appearance in the audience of the wandering Orangeman and failed UKIP politician Billy McBilly. Incredible! The man has a season ticket for this show. There are over five million people in Scotland yet this geezer has been on Question Time more times than the SNP in the last couple of years, and gets to ask a question on every occasion, well no’ so much a question more an angry ranting statement, at the end of which you can almost sense his colonic rage at not being able to sign off with the phrase “No Surrender”. For a bit of variety he’s bringing his drum the next time.
 
The BBC are getting to the point now where they are not even trying to mask their British nationalist propaganda. It’s pretty desperate stuff.
 
Thankfully more of our fellow Scots are getting wise to this nonsense . Seriously, if you can’t see it, you’re not looking with your eyes or listening with your ears, you’re walking around in a cosy ‘Great British’ daze.
 
 

Where are you?

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Theresa May has worn out three pairs of her very best hiking comfy brogues stravaging backwards and forwards tae Brussels, and is now heading over to Norn Irn to make a speech to a room full of unionist businessmen staunchly determined that they shouldn’t have even the slightest possibility of the possibility of the opportune opportunity of their businesses obtaining a competitive advantage over other parts of the ‘great family of nations’ (nutters).

Meanwhile the First Minister of our own dear beloved land is gallivanting all over North America trying to convince the top recipient nation on the list for exports from Scotland (to the tune of about five and a half billion squids every year) no’ tae worry too much come Brexit because we’re still going to distil the water of life in its many brand names, we’ll still be producing haggis in tins, our butchers will still make square sausage and black pudding, we’ll still be weaving the tartan, making shortbread, selling golf jumpers, and yes, we’ll still be experimenting wae the sugar levels in our other national drink.

However, I wonder thus, where is Mundell?
 
The Viceroy of Joy, the yes man to beat all yes men (with a small y of course) an individual who, if he was to waken with a start from sudden unconsciousness in a bygone age, after inadvertently touching a big mossy dod of standing stone in an ancient circle in the fog, would find himself in the front row of a bunch of sprinting wasters happy to accept bribes, debt clearance and promises of land and status, in exchange for being chased through the streets of Edinburgh by a rabble of extremely miffed Leith residents shouting “Somebody grab that quill, don’t let them sign anything!’  is conspicuous by his silence. Has he got the cauld maybe?
 
Seen up until recently on a regular basis with a microphone thrust under his nose outside Westminster acting in his subsidiary role of backing up every single thing that comes out of Theresa May’s mouth, including the occasional burp, the ‘ProudScot’ politician with the backbone of playdough, happy, and comfortable, to contradict himself on a consistent basis, back-flipping backwards and forwards to his master’s voice, must be getting a bit stir crazy, kicking his heels. Surely there must be a foreign trade visit to Vanuatu, Fiji or Mauritius in the pipeline somewhere?
 
Like Gordy Broon , anxious to intercede in the constitutional debate for the very first time he’s ever interceded, every single teeth-grinding time, to give us the benefit of his wisdom, I feel we need, on his usual cyclical basis, the heart, and gut, wrenching appeal from Davey, currently missing,  from somewhere far far away, in front of an audience who have no idea what he’s talking about, or why, to put out of our minds thoughts of disloyalty to our benevolent senior sibling in our ecstatically happy ‘family of nations’.  

Davey has a standard speech we all know and love, nobody wants a referendum, nobody wants independence, nobody wants divisiveness, Nicola Sturgeon just wants to use Brexit as an excuse for separation, stop it, you are putting my peerage in danger.  I miss him.
 
Come back soon Davey, we need you. You are one of the best recruits for the cause of an independent Scotland around. A real advert for our cause.

Beyond delusion

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Aye, they were most definitely out in force last night in the Commons. Full moon or not, the hooray howlers and self-serving wailers were in maximum frenzy mode as the madness beyond satire which is Brexit continues unabated in the parliament of unacknowledged exceptionalism.

As we all know, as we have all known from the very moment Boris Johnson and the caricature who requires no caricature, Michael Gove, turned slightly pale at the result and scurried into the back of revving up BMW’s (built in Berlin) with expressions on their faces as if to say ‘ they actually fell for it, no, really they did, what are we going to do now?’, yes, we all knew right then that the poor old Europeans are for it.

It was inevitable. The EU are about to get the blame for the more than two and half years of breath-taking incompetence displayed by the British state in regards to securing a future relationship with its closest trading partners of the last half century.
 
This shambles is not so much about the UK government shooting themselves in the foot, it’s more about them cutting each toe off both feet individually one at a time by mistake whilst trimming their toenails, then chopping what’s left of one of their feet off with an axe whilst trying to shoo a curious midgie away from the open wound where their pinkie toe used tae be. However the propaganda, as is always the case in the British media, tells a different story.
 
Following the voting on proposed amendments to the Brexit Withdrawal Agreement, or sitting on your hands if you are a Labour MP (what is the point of Labour again?) the Daily Hate Mail is trumpeting Theresa May as the hero of the hour, saving old blighty when the chips were down, the scourge of shifty-eyed garlic smelling foreigners in dark business suits. Their editorial team only just stopping short of calling for a Falklands style Taskforce to be launched from Portsmouth by Saturday to sail up and down the coast of France and Spain shouting ‘Who are you looking at?’ through loudhailers every time they pass a small fishing boat or pleasure craft.
 
In a wave of national euphoria the right–wing press will have the ‘Strong’ and ‘Stable’ Prime Minister, fresh out of weak and wobbly, carried shoulder high around the playing fields of Eton, to cries of “Bravo old girl” and “ We’re England, can’t they see?  Damn their eyes old Totty”, then lifted on to a waiting helicopter of the Queen’s Flight bound for Brussels, where she’ll be met on the tarmac by the band of the Coldstream Guards, playing Colonel Bogey, a squadron of the Household Cavalry in full gleaming breastplates and tassels, and right at the back, the staunch lads and lassies of the Boyne and Billygoat drum majorettes, all of whom will accompany her in triumphant procession to the European Parliament buildings.
 
As she approaches the front entrance of the imposing den of euro-crats our wondrous leader will see ahead of her scores of Bordeaux soaked red-faced ‘foreign’ diplomats in expensive suits, and the odd Irish man and woman, diving for cover amongst foliage in the surrounding gardens, anxious to escape the powerful wrath of a slumbering Empire roused into action.  She will let a slight smile cross her visage at this as she waves to the bewildered crowds of Belgian peasants on both sides of the impressive pageant.
 
To trumpets blaring, and a rousing chorus of thon dirge about scattering enemies, Marshal Wade and crushing rebellious Scots, she’ll emerge from her open-topped Daimler (designed in Stuttgart) and take the few short steps to the imposing front door of the building. As if by magic the pantomime dressed figure of ‘Black Rod’ (parliamentary traditions must be observed, Order! Order!) will appear by her side, take out his big pointy stick and gie it laldy rat-a-tat upon the polished wooden door.
 
As the door slides slowly open the modern day Boadicea will see before her the appearing faces of Messrs Barnier, Tusk and Juncker, looking somewhat bored.
 
‘Ahh gentlemen. I bring you the joyous news that you are held in great affection by Her Majesty’s Government, and Sammy Wilson.

Secondly ,in light of the fact that undisputedly we are British, and you are not, I call upon you to disregard all of the nonsense I previously came to you with, and we both agreed upon, about protecting one of your community member’s from economic strife and a possible return to cross border violent mayhem, and instead agree to this blank piece of paper I’m handing you now. C’mon, what do you say? You can trust us.’

Right there, right then, will be the moment where the Mail’s fantasy will turn sour….
 
As Michel Barnier thinks to himself ‘I really must get some WD40 into the hinges on that door’, as he firmly closes it behind him.
 
C’mon Scotland, there is a farce playing out here that you need to walk away from, and soon.
 

Whistling in the wind

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My late, dear departed, and much lamented, grandmother had a phrase or two for it. Phrases which sum up the behaviour of the increasingly desperate bunch of professional politicians, both right-wing and their pretendy left-wing friends across the chamber at Westminster.

Both are committed to a two party duopoly in the maintenance of their power, both are only interested in their own little internal party power struggles, to the extreme detriment of the future economic and cultural prosperity of the UK. Gran would have said of the likes of Boris Johnson, Gove or Big Snooty of the 18th century “ He’s a Blaw of Hell! He’s far too full of his ain self-importance” and she wouldn’t have been wrong.
 
The Downing Street Disco-Dancing and Robotic Repetitive Sound Machine Festival continues this week as frantic efforts are made, mainly involving turning over rocks to see what creeps out from underneath, to convince the extreme end of the Tory Party and some Norn Irn bigots and flute players (the ones who appear to be confused about what the bribe was actually for) that the option is somehow open to discard or amend any arrangements for the so-called backstop which helps protect the rights of the EU citizens who will remain in the part of the island of Ireland which isn’t included in the new isolationist mini-empire, ensures that the Good Friday Agreement isn’t about to be torn up which would result in the horrific mayhem of the past returning to the north of the island, and in fact gives Northern Ireland an economic advantage over countries like, em, Scotland.

This is an advantage which the self-flagellating unionist politicians of that part of Ireland would rather not have, preferring a Queen’s Jubilee tea towel and a bowler hat autographed by Prince William, signed “ Best wishes from King Billy to be” instead. Go figure.

Neither of these groups will take much convincing on the intended spirit of the proposal. The big problem will be convincing them that Theresa May and her ever growing band of Brexit Ministers, some of whom apparently who have only recently found out that they live on an island, can actually do what they say they can do, which they can’t and they won’t.
 
Somebody in the meedja asked those nice, but thoroughly confused, and now totally bewildered, people at the EU, sick to the back teeth of popcorn and prone to automatically turn their TV’s to the Le Peppa Pig Channel at the very mention of the word Brexit on their local news channels, what they thought about Britain coming back to them at this stage to amend the provisions of the backstop arrangement.

The reply, a resigned predicable and regretful, (and I paraphrase) ‘It’s the UK’s choice to leave, we would rather they stayed. We’ve finished the negotiation phase. The EU has accepted the arrangement Mrs May brought to us. Effectively Britain’s political chattering classes are chattering amongst themselves only, and for very little purpose’.

However, by the end of the week the BBC will be telling you that the complete disaster which Brexit is increasingly looking likely to be is somehow the EU’s fault.
 
Aye, Gran knew her stuff.
 
Scotland has a way out of this. Let’s do it. Let’s do it soon.

Let off the hook

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In these times of grave uncertainty, where chaos and malign self-destructive acts of a political nature are becoming the norm, it is at least reassuring, if predictable, and somewhat depressing, that the editorial perspective of the media arm of British nationalism, entrenched in their perpetual role of maintaining the established constitutional position, have not deviated one iota from their mission. In fact, obviously feeling pressured by the sound of a juggernaut starting to rev up over their northern horizon, they’ve stepped up their campaign to discredit all that threatens the Great British norms.
 
We’ve moved on from Salmond, then Salmond and Sturgeon, then SNP civil war (again) then SNP crisis, then leadership crisis, then SNP ‘heavy weights’ urge FM to re-consider as there is no appetite for a second Indy Ref, now we’re onto Chief Executive of the SNP, First Minister Nicola Sturgeon’s husband, Peter Murrell. It’s relentless. Anyone would think they were trying to divert attention away from a real crisis somewhere else.
 
Meanwhile the disco dancing droner of Downing Street continues on her merry way (now surely running on near spent exhaust fumes alone) in her ultra-repetitive drive to run down a self-inflicted clock on a ‘deal’ that nobody wants, neither Leavers, Remainers, hard line Brexiteers or EU negotiators want it.

She has suffered a defeat of an unprecedented magnitude for a sitting Prime Minister in Parliament, a defeat that would have seen any other premier (in what were considered normal times before Brexit) resign and toddle off to a quiet life of jotting down memoirs, corporate stipends and lobbying for multinationals. Yet she carries on like everything is on track, and this, and the many other humiliations she has suffered over the last couple of years, never happened. Her position should be untenable.
 
The question needs to be asked. Why are the media letting this government off the hook? Can there be any clearer indication for those swithering one way, then back, on the subject of Scotland’s future, that something smells more than a bit off in the reporting coverage of the long slow agonising  downfall of a failed state? A failed state incapable of moving on from a bygone imperial past, completely unable to modernise and genuinely work in partnership with others, both abroad and with its closest neighbour to its northern border, for the common good, not just their own.
 
Independence for Scotland now. Let’s get to it.
 

A bigger priority

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There is no optimum moment, no perfect time, to launch a campaign to return responsibility for the governance of the country of Scotland to the people of Scotland.

If we are waiting for that elusive moment when the ducks are all lined up perfectly we are wasting our time and energy.

Achieving a consensus by majority that Scotland’s future is best served by disentangling itself from the rule of its southern neighbour will only ever be achieved once a date to consult the views of Scots on their constitutional future has been fixed, and the case is convincingly made for a country where the interests of Scotland’s people come first.

Scottish voters not wedded to self-government, not attuned to the premise that Scotland as part of an entirely mis-named Union is simply considered an asset to be used for whatever purpose London’s Westminster government deems necessary to perpetuate the retention of the wealth and power of an entrenched elite, need to be persuaded, by being exposed to convincing, well communicated, supporting facts, to encourage them to undertake their own research, their own personal journey to Yes.

I really do hope that during all of the lengthy farce of Brexit the SNP have quietly had some clear thinking strategic minds working away in the background on campaign planning, on communication strategies, on countering Project Fear, on proposals to support grassroots groups through a campaign, on a draft consultation Constitution for an independent Scotland to be shared with voters, on alternative strategies to proceed once our lords and masters tell us we can’t be consulted again about our future because ‘now is not the right time,’ on making preparations to set out comparisons between what Brexit will mean in terms of impacts on every day life against how things may be living in an independent Scotland which has taken over the warm seat at the EU table which rUK has given up. (they could be forgiven for not getting too far with that one just yet,no one really knows what the impact will be further down the line).

Importantly too, using Brexit as a learning exercise, and by understanding the experiences of countless former imperial colonies seeking and eventually achieving independence, ways must be found to counter and bypass the endless procrastination, inertia, bluster, repetitive obstruction, incompetence and arrogance of the British nationalist mind when placed in a position of government and power.

Clearly, when it comes to the constitutional question this time, our auld pals in Project Fear will attempt to use their own leadership’s handling of Brexit, both in government and their official opposition, as a scare tactic against independence. I can hear it now ‘ See how hard it has been to leave the European Union. Imagine how long and how hard it would be for Scotland to try and leave the UK, Naw, we’re better together.’

We need to be ready and able to counter that statement, and counter it convincingly. Let’s hope someone is working on that.

I fully understand the First Minister’s position on a second Brexit ‘ People’s’ vote, in terms of genuinely doing her very utmost to protect all of the UK from separation from Europe. My goodness it’s a wonder she can stand straight upright the amount of accommodating contortions she’s engaged in in order to demonstrate that she has been more than reasonable in her dealings with Westminster’s government in the last two and a half years.

The media and British nationalist politicians like to talk about us in the Yes movement continually promoting a ‘ grievance’ agenda. If you chronologically record every step the Holyrood government and our MPs at Westminster have made to protect the people of Scotland, and England, from the impact of Brexit since June 2016 I think grievance doesn’t quite cover the injustice and inequity experienced.

At this point I think our leaders should be saying the following to the rest of the UK (with regards to the divorce from the European Union).

You cannot dispute that we’ve tried as best we can to help you, and we will continue to do so as the opportunity occurs and allows, but we have a bigger priority, primarily Scotland is best served returning to its rightful independent status. The people of Scotland are sovereign and by democratic majority they wish to stay in the EU. The Scottish government’s priorities are first and foremost to carry out the instructions of the people who gave us the mandate to govern, and that is what we intend to do.

Let’s get a date fixed to seek a further decisive instruction from the people of Scotland. Let’s do it soon.