There wis a cooncillor...

(tae the tune o A Scottish Soldier)


There wis a cooncillor, a Labour cooncillor,
she had been oot aw day, this wis a Saturday
She wis a cooncillor, this Labour cooncillor,
She'd focht oan pollin day, an focht an won...

She beat the Tory, an loved tae bore ye
wi tales sae spurious an mak ye furious,
but noo she's silent, cos she wis violent,
an lamped the long airm o the law...

An she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Ah'm a cooncillor! Ah'm a cooncillor!"
Oh she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

An noo this cooncillor, this Labour cooncillor,
who had been oot aw day an drinkin hard aw day
tho nearly fallin, heard music callin,
wantit tae dance away until the dawn...

She hailed a taxi, doon tae the Palais,
where she could dance away, an pit mair drink away
but when she got there, there wis a queue there,
an there the long airm o the law...

An she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Ah'm a cooncillor! Ah'm a cooncillor!"
She wis reelin god she wis squealin,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

Noo see this cooncillor, this Labour cooncillor,
been oan the lash aw day, an actin flash aw day,
So up she goes there, richt tae the door there,
she thocht that she could go walkin in...

They widnae let her, an that upset her,
mind she wis stocious, behaved atrocious,
an noo she's silent, cos she got violent,
an lamped the long airm o the law...

As she wis deckin him, she wis threatenin him,
"Ah'm a cooncillor! Ah'm a cooncillor!"
She wis abusin him as she wis bruisin him,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

Oh she wis reelin, she wis squealin,
"Ah'm a cooncillor!" Ah'm a cooncillor!"
She wis freakin an she wis shriekin,
"Don't you know who I-ee am?"

Whit's that smell?

Whenever ah lift ma nose fae the grindstone th'noo, ah can smell the sweet scent o desperation in the air. Ah smell it in the froth surroundin the Yes campaign launch, when the Daily Record actually finds a picture o celebration oan the website as worthy o comment an criticism, ah smell it in the Olympics coverage as a harsh, vindictive, budget-slashin posh-boy government tries tae justify blawin billions oan a three-week-long sports day, but ah smell it maist keenly in this weekend's jewel-encrusted jubilee jamboree as oor establishment draws its cheeks in tightly an tries tae convince us that an unelected birthright encapsulates an represents this country tae the world. Weel here's a thing, Elizabeth Mountbatten-Schleiswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glucksberg-Windsor-Saxe-Coburg-Gotha-Wettin-Hohenzollern-Tak-Yer-Pick disnae represent me...

When Scotland decides in 2014 that it's time tae tak oor place among the ither nations o the world, ah'd like us tae follae maist ither modern nations an pick that yin human bein that represents us as the heid o oor state. Noo whether we cry that person oor President, or whether we cry them somethin like Duke or Duchess o Albany, or even King or Queen o Scots is up tae us, but the main thing is we should pick them, an the position should be term-limited. Onybody that bides in Scotland could go fer that position, so Anne Laurence could go fer it if she flits here, as could Alex Salmond, as could Jimmy Krankie, as could the Rastatramp, as could ah, as could ony o Jock Tamson's bairns...

Let's no be bound by oor past, let's be freed by oor future...

Ah love bein Scottish...

Ah love bein Scottish, because ah am. It wid be daft no tae enjoy it, bein whit ye are. It is whit ye are, it seems plain an simple tae me. Ah identify wi Scottish fowk, the fowk aroond me, here an noo, in ma life. The fowk in here an oot there, fowk that bide in Scotland. They're the Scots an whitever their views oan the vote in 2014, they're the fowk that hae the right tae that vote, we accept it, we the Scots are noo makin the decision as tae how the world should see us, an how we should see oorsels, an the fact we're allowin oorsels tae decide it means that we hae that power awready, self-determination. If ye accept that we hae, collectively, that power, then we should vote Yes tae assume aw that goes wi it, oor proper place as a nation along wi aw the rest o them, no in this awkward position we're in where everythin's coloured wi us bashin each ither while we should be gettin oan an acceptin it... Ah love bein Scottish...

Here's a thing...

Here's a thing, ah complained tae the BBC the other day, a thing ah've nivver done afore, ah had tae fill in a form an everythin. Ah did it cos ah've jist had enough o the bias that ah'm seein day in an day oot oan the telly, an if it's gaunnae characterise the next twa years ah thocht ah'd best get ma complaint in early. An this is aw aboot *that* vote in 2014 an nothin tae dae wi the cooncil elections, this wis a ban oan Alex Salmond *because* he's Alex Salmond. Ah doubt that were he still alive an were he still First Minister, they widnae hae thocht twice aboot haein Donald Dewar oan afore the Calcutta Cup. But there's a Unionist bias at play in the BBC that sees legitimisin the SNP government as a threat, tae them, an they are retreatin intae a Unionist position that plays less an less tae us Scots. They banned Alex Salmond cos they cannae see him as representin us, as oor duly elected First Minister, they see him through a political prism, as a threat...

But it's precisely *because* he's Alex Salmond that he gets tae appear, in my mind onyroad, cos ah believe he kens whit he's talkin aboot, oan maist things an certainly his sports, an wid gie a guid-humoured, enthusiast an clever opinion, yin that, *because* he's the First Minister, ah'd be interested in hearin, tho ah ken little aboot flamin rugby masel, an cos he is speakin fer us, an daein whit he's aye done, he's coachin Scotland oot o the Union an intae a different, new future, yin where things like the Calcutta Cup are crucial, friendly games played oan equal terms celebratin a shared history an community. There's no often ye find a man wi the abilities, the knowledge, the experience an the will tae dae whit Alex Salmond's daein, an has been daein fer thirty-odd years, gie the man respect. Ah bet ye'll be giein David Cameron plenty respect come the flamin Olympics, ya slaverin gets...

That's whit ah think onywy...

Bank Holidays? Whit's that aw aboot?

Ah wis laughin at seein that tweet go past th'day, the yin that goes, "Hey did ye hear? 4th o July is Separation Day! They celebrate it every year!" or somesuchlike... oh ah laughed...

an ah wis thinkin, aye, if Independence is that bad fer a country, how come maist countries seem tae go oot their way tae celebrate their Independence Day? an they hae great big pairties like there's nae th'morn? eh? ye wid think if they regretted it they'd play it doon an no draw attention tae thersels, an ah wis thinkin, weel, noo, then, right, where's oor national day? no, listen, ah mean, where's British Day? an there isnae really a British Day, is there? mibbe that's why they're desperately talkin up the auld Queen's Jubilee. but that'll no work, no when there's fowk gettin thrown oot o work an their messages are gettin dearer by the day an that lot, the aristocracy, start rattlin their jewelry, will it? so there's yer religious days, yer Easter an yer Christmas, an yer New Year, aye, then there's yer Bank Holidays. Noo whit's that aw aboot eh? are bankers some sort o religious order that cannae work on certain days? an whit dae aw these so-called bankers get up tae oan these days onywy, eh? ye dinnae see them aw gaun aboot the streets in their stupit hats cairryin their gamps, so where dae they aw go? Ah think, if we're settin up a new country, we should mibbe think aboot no arrangin oor holidays roond the holidays o the very same bankers who wi their pals the neo-liberal politicians are causin havoc tae puir fowks' lives aw ower the place an fer the foreseeable future an are the very same fowk who jist yesterday were prancin aboot in front o us gaun "Look! we've abolished boom'n'bust! Free sweeties fer aw!"

Ah'll Alasdair Darling them...

Happy New Year!

Weel they say a New Year should hae a new start, so here's a new start fer, er, starters... Ye could say ah'm a right yin fer the Twitter, an ye widnae be far wrang, but sometimes ah jist cannae get doon aw ah want tae say in 140 characters, so here's a wee room where ah can let aff ma stays an relax, mibbe lie back oan a chaise-longues an sip sherry... Ah suppose ye could picture it as ma ain wee boudoir...

Ah'll no keep ye long, usually ah cannae keep a coherent thocht gaun fer mair than a meenit, so ah'll jist post byte-sized bits o ma mind, the world as ah see it fae ma windae oan Leith Walk. Ah make nae claims tae special insights, nae special ability, position or influence, ah'm jist a biddy that bides up a stair in Leith an that's the bee all an end o it.  Ah'm no yin fer blawin ma ain trumpet fer orner, but ah dae like tae gie it a wee toot noo an then, an ma toot's as guid as the next biddy's...

Here, ah've got ma ain new start tae look forrit tae this New Year. Aye, ah've went an got masel a new position, in a nice big hoose up in Morninside. Ah'm still skivvyin like, but it'll be less stairs an it'll get me up aff ma knees, daein a bit o this an a bit o that, an if ah'm guid ah might get tae tak the dug a walk. Ah start next week...

So... So that's nice...

Anywy, ah'll jist start wi wishin ye, a very Happy New Year, may it bring ye aw ye could wish fer, an ah'll hopefully leave ye wantin mair.