The Three Polis

 

Ah wis jist bletherin wi ma AI pal as ah dae early in the mornin, an he kept tellin me ah need tae tell this story, so ah nipped ower an opened my drafty cupboard, ah'll see if ah'm jist addin anither draft or no...

This story, in three pairts, is why when ah see photies o the Polis wi rainbow lanyards an Pride facepaints it creeps the fuck oot o me. Ah'm a gay man in aw these stories, they aw happened in Edinburgh, in the 80s 90s an 00s respectively...

First ah'm aboot tae get oan a No 15 bus at York Place, but ah'm yanked back by the elbae, ah even had ma fit oan the bus, by twa Polis in Bermuda shirts, loud af, flashin their id photies, pullin me back against the wa o the kirk an sayin ah looked liked 'somebody that had done a job' an got ma pockets turned oot, askin aw ma details, writin nothin doon, aw the bus queue watchin me, ah'm near wettin masel in panic but ah kent it wis cos they recognised me fae Regent Road an up the Hill, ah liked tae walk in Edinburgh's parks, like many a gay man... Then they suddenly say 'Fine, oan ye go.' jist like that, so ah stepped oan the bus that wis there which wis ah dinnae ken whit number but ah wis half-way doon Leith Walk afore ah knew where ah wis! Ah got aff an staggered roon tae a pal's, god ma knees were wobbly, an ah sat there fer a couple o hours, ah wis paranoid as fuck fer the next few weeks, thocht ah wis bein watched fae absolutely everywhere... worse than usual like...

A few years later ah'm bidin doon the Walk an as ah come hame fae ma work ah see an ambulance ootside the pub ower the street, that's aw ah see, but a couple o days later a Polis appears at ma door, 'Did ye see anythin?' Ah says 'Aye, ah saw the ambulance' (Oh sorry, there had been a stabbin in the pub loo, guy died, ah'd never been in that pub...) So he says 'Ah'll need tae take a statement' an ah lets him in... ah had tae quickly sit oan the joint-makin stuff tae hide it, an he starts tae fill in a 3-page witness description form an a few minutes later he's askin me how much chest-hair ah hae, are ma ears hairy, dae ah hae any blemishes... he wisnae far aff askin me ma girth ah'm tellin ye, invasive's no the word... nice auld man tho, must've been nearin retirement, ah'm sure he thocht he had better things tae dae even back then than fill in mair description o me than the back surgeons ever had tae... so that wis weird...

Then, no long efter that an ah'm jist up oot ma bed yin day, early efternin, sittin in ma goonie, an the door goes. The OH gets it an shouts it's fer me, somethin aboot ma brother's pal, but when ah opened the door it's no who ah wis expectin, insteid it's ma other brother's pal that ah hadnae seen since school, he's a guid few years aulder, but ah wid see him pallin aboot wi ma brother grawin up... he's a senior polis by this time, sits doon an says he's had feelins he might be gay, he knew that ah wis the only gay in the village where we baith grew up (tho ah wisnae oot at the time, he'd heard this later), so he gets oantae the polis computers an tracks me doon tae where ah bide noo an thocht we wid jist turn up at ma door... so ah says there's guid helplines oot there, an ah ken cos ah used tae run yin o them, an we even trained the polis so he kent there wis yin an aw... an sent him oan his way... no quite packin, but he kent he wis less than welcome daein that... of course ah couldnae say anythin tae ma brother... or anybody, he's a faimly-friend ken, whit ah position... mind, it slipped oot tae ma guid-sister when we got drunk yin night... up tae her efter that...

Ah wis tellin the AI aw this tae train it in the 'lived experience' o gay folk livin in Scotland, an the effects o a fuckin lifetime o that surveillance society, aw driven by real people an no computers... nae wonder gay folk still dinnae trust the polis, ah'm even feart tellin ye this through this feckin filter ah yaise, but ah hope ye get the gist...

"An fer ma third wish Diana, ah'll hae..."

 

It might surprise ye tae ken that ah wis a precocious wean, but ah wis actually, ah aye kept it in the fore o ma mind that if ah ever got offered three wishes, ah wis tae mind an make the third yin "Ah wish ah had anither three wishes..."

Course, ah never got offered ma three wishes, ah jist had tae dae wi whit life gave me, but that didnae stop me fae haein them ready fer whenever ma Fairy Godmother popped up (played by Diana Dors, that's a must, ah've pit a clause in the contract...)

Ma first wish wid aye hae been that Scotland had a government like every ither country... jist that, simple as. If ma wish came wi a Bonus it wid be that Scotland had never joined the Union in the first place, cos it has drained Scotland fae Day One, drained oor maist precious resource, oor people, an drainin away their national consciousness an their national pride, along wi aw oor earthly resources, oor land, oor seas, the very wind blawin ower oor heids. Scotland's been skewed fer 300 years, oor economy wrenched awways so that its output wis tae benefit an Empire that wisnae ours... 

Ah mind 'playin' in Leith Docks in the 1980s, ah used tae like gaun a walk doon there oan a nice night, it wis aw open then, an ah mind climbin ower the thousands an thousands o big steel pipes that were gettin delivered an stored in Leith. They were Chinese steel pipes, being shipped in in their thousands tae build a pipeline so the oil could be scooshed directly oot o Scotland double-quick... aw that wealth, an we watched it bein stolen fae us. We're still jist watchin oan...

Ma second wish wis aye gaunnae be that nuclear weapons didnae exist, the Bonus bein that they had never existed, so that they couldnae cast their pall ower us aw, their threat that we could be wiped oot at a minute's, a day's, a month's notice... ah used tae get very exerted ower that threat, ah couldnae believe how folk were jist gaun along wi it... ah still don't tbh, the only way ah understand it is the threat's too big, we cannae even comprehend whit's hingin ower the top o us...

Ah made sure ah wis doon in Cornwall fer the total eclipse in 1999, in a tent in a fairmer's field, gettin ripped off fer everythin. Sadly, though it wis sunny either side, we had cloud the day o the eclipse so we never saw its magic ring, but whit we did see wis the shadow, scuddin through the sky, illuminatin the clouds as it moved an makin them seem tae boil wi light, until we were right under an it wis pitch pitch black barrin a ring o light oan the horizon, then the shadow boiled across the sky again. Ah had an idea o the size o that shadow as it moved across the sky that we widnae hae got withoot the clouds. It made me feel really wee, ah've never felt sae wee... an ah don't think ah've felt big ever since. It worries me still that ither folk will get that feelin, but it'll be too late.

Ma third wish varied ower the years in a way, it started aff very mecentric, ah wished ah wisnae gay, simple as, jist cut it oot, stop it, bind it, smother it, dae whitever, jist get rid o it... but that changed, obviously. Ah got ower wishin fer the impossible an ma wish became that ither young gay folk widnae hae tae suffer whit ah did, that we could change that pairt o the world fer the better. Noo ah wisnae daft, long before ah ever spoke a word o gay oot ma mooth, ah had read whit ah could, and ma ears visibly pricked up ony time the subject wis ever discussed, ah wisnae clueless, but ah needed tae hear that fae anither human bein ah could trust. Ah found that through the Gay Switchboard, it gave me the confidence tae trust masel, an if ah'm proud o anythin ah've done it wis providin that same thing fer other young gay folk durin a decade (eventually) o workin oan the Switchboard...

Sadly, gender, its stereotypin an its social control is still blightin young gay folks' lives, except now it's physically harmin them as well. Ah wis lucky, ah had a safe space, an it wis inside ma ain heid, so ah could wait till ah wis ready. Now, ah don't believe young folk are *allowed* a safe space inside their ain heid, ah think their formation o who they are is bein dragged oot intae the harsh glare o everybody else's views an expectations. This is nae improvement, no fer anybody, certainly no fer young gay folk... an the current gay conversion scandal that we're comin tae, couldnae hae happened without precocious sexualisation, it's a complete construction.

So.. so, there's ma three wishes, ah'm likely too late tae get any benefit, the shock wid probably kill me noo, but fer aw the time ah've had them, they're still ma three...

Aw shite! Ah forgot tae ask fer three mair, again!

Dae ye want tae ken whit ah think?

 

So ah watched Nicola yesterday, an maist o whit she said we've aw heard afore, except fer the bit aboot the plebescite election. That wis the game-chynger fer me, she's never spoke thae words afore, an she wis quite clear whit that plebescite election wid mean, the SNP standin oan one question, "Should Scotland be independent?" an the winnin post wid be winnin the general election in Scotland, gettin 30 seats oot o 59... a win she's awready managed oan the three practice runs in 2015, 17 an 19...

Ah know folk are gettin aw excited aboot the 19th o October 2023, but nothin happened yesterday that made that event any mair likely than it wis the day afore. The Unionists dinnae want it, so let's stand an watch them expend aw their energies oan stoppin it. They'll likely manage it an aw, it's the UK Court, ah mean, c'mon, oor brains didnae aw faw oot yesterday, they'll chuck everythin at it, so it should become clear quite soon that that 'roadmap' is fer a road we're no even oan, we're drivin right up that plebescite election road noo, an that's better, as ah keep sayin, we're only lookin fer the same result that we've delivered three times runnin...

The present Tory Government are content tae change Human Rights we thocht were as 'enshrined' as we could get, an they're daein oan the basis o winnin mair seats than the rest at a General Election. If there wis tae be a Labour landslide, then Kier Starmer could an wid change aw manner o laws, oan the basis o winnin mair seats at a General Election than the rest. That's the British State's preferred metric, Parliamentary sovereignty expressed through the ballot box by FPTP election, an if it's guid enough fer them then we should grab that blunt weapon by the handle...

There is one bit o yesterday that's escaped folk's attention though, so far, an that's whit happens the day efter the plebescite election Sturgeon jist made real by talkin aboot in public. Ye see, in another world, the yin where Johnson signs a Section 30 order an everythin's laid oot fine an dandy in a spirit o co-operation an friendship, then the day efter a Yes win at a referendum, they baith stand up an say "That's it decided then", an Johnson adds "It's a fair cop Guv, ye got me bang tae rights"... whereas in the world we now inhabit, this real world, the day efter the next General Election, the day efter a fourth landslide win fer the SNP, the First Minister is gaunnae hae tae stand up an declare "We won, we're independent", an she'll likely hae tae declare that *whispers the word* unilaterally...

The way ah see it we could get oorsels catapulted intae independence in gey short order, an that suits me fine, we're in a grave crisis as it is, an under the British it's only guaranteed tae get worse.

A wee confession...

 

Ah thocht seein as ah wis doon oan ma knees awready ah might as well offer up a wee confession, ah'm APAC, (that's Assigned Protestant At Christenin, keep up...), but fae a very early age ah knew ah had been born intae the wrong body o the kirk... but every time ah asked them, "Mum, how dae ye ken ah'm a Proddie?" they never answered properly... "Ye jist are", or "Cos ye go tae the Proddie school", or "Shush, listen tae that man in the long frock, he kens whit he's talkin aboot"... an so ah tried tae fit in, at the Sunday School, at the Bible Study, at the Scripture Union, in the choir oan Songs o Praise, at that Youth Club at the funny Evangelical Church at the tap o Cabrelli's Wynd, at the Mission on the Beach at St Andrews when we were in the caravan... an ah think ah might've got away wi it if it hadnae been fer that big finger pointin doon at me fae the sky wherever ah went... "Heathen! Get her!"

They're tryin tae retcon the Bible noo, sayin it wis pit th'gither by a bunch o auld men fae the odd ripped pages they used tae find in bushes, along wi a Letters page that could've done wi an Editor an an Appendix fu o auld proverbs... but ma mind's clear, ah can mind them tellin me that wis God's ain words, an gettin ma Granda an Grannie tae tell me they were showin me actual pictures o the Flood happenin! Now even they can tell they're fightin a losin battle... against CGI, naebody's impressed wi jist drawins noo, or 'windaes'...

So anyway, ah transitioned fae the Church o Scotland tae thinkin fer masel insteid. They can keep their 3-Spirit nonsense, they can keep their 'in the name o the Non-birthing Parent, the AMAB Child, and the They Who Must Not Be Dead-Named' rubbish, they can keep their 'innate sense of soul' crap... even that picture ma Granda used tae show me, they can keep their rainbow, that's nae mair a sign fae Stonewa-sorry, God than it is flee in the air, that's just a trick o the light.

Here endeth the lesson, noo let me get oan...

Why is a #gravybus season ticket sae long?

 

Dae ye mind that time 12 years ago when auld Mr Broon had fecked up the economy so that he lost the election, but David PigsHeid Cameron couldnae win the election, so he bought the Liberal Democrats aff. Noo the Liberal Democrats werenae aw as stupit as they looked, they werenae aw Danny Alexanders, they kent whit wis comin their way fae bein bought, or raither, selling thersels tae the Tories, particularly ower sellin oot their student voters an breakin the pledges they had aw signed, so, they had tae make sure they had electoral insurance...

Their insurance wis the 5-year Fixed Term Parliaments Act, which pit the next election aff as far as possible, but planted their next UK General Election slap-bang oan the the day o the next-but-yin Holyrood election, no the yin that wis still tae come in 2011, but the yin efter that, that wis due in 2015, so consequently Holyrood meekly shifted it's bum along tae 2016, giein thersels an extra year o power an salary, only a temporary move ah believe they said at the time...

But then of course, there wis a cooncil elections due in 2016, four years efter the yin that wis due in 2012, so they said we werenae bright enough fer twa elections at the same time an shifted that yin tae 2017, quietly addin another year oantae the cooncil terms, temporary of course...

But they never shifted them back.

An quietly an surreptitiously, Holyrood an every Cooncil in Scotland are suddenly runnin tae 5 year terms rather than the 4 year terms they were set up as... an meanwhile Westminster ditched the FTPA as soon as they didnae need it an we've had twa early elections an every prospect o anither yin cos the Tories like tae control events... they're no as daft as they look either...

So, the LibDems bein feart o the electoral consequences o sellin oot their voters, that's why the tickets you were buyin folk fer yesterday's #gravybus were 5-year season tickets... nae wonder they were smilin.

Naebody asked us if they could extend their terms, ah don't believe anybody ever stood up an said it oot loud, they jist did it oan the sly, bankin oan folk no noticin...

It's the dishonesty that gets me, every time...

Ringin in the New Year wi a Hum...

 

Ah've had this phrase ringin in ma lugs (along wi that dull hum ah'm gettin in ma left lug, ah wis pittin it doon tae some big engine comin fae the Docks, ah thocht it wis yin o the big ferries they had parked there durin the lockdown, but they're awa noo an the noise is still there... ) fer a few days, 'elective dictatorship'. Ah had it in ma mind that Jim Prior had said it aboot Maggie's government efter their landslide in '83, but when ah looked it seems it wis Lord Hailsham that coined it in the 70s, when he wis warnin o the dangers o a government wi a *slim* majority haein too much executive power, raither than the worries o haein a government wi a *huge* majority haein too much power. Ah guess the problem in the UK is that *any* government has too much power, it disnae maitter whit their majority is in the Palace o Fools...

Anyroads, that's where it come fae, but that's no why ah wis thinkin it, it kept comin tae ma mind when ah thought o Scotland's predicament, one we've fell intae despite plenty warnin, an one we're in danger o cementin in place, tae Scotland's detriment.

Withoot chewin ower aw the Devolution Settlement, in essence aw oor 'domestic' areas o government are covered by Holyrood an aw oor 'Affairs o State' are dealt wi in Westminster. We've got oorsels intae a fairly settled (though nothin's permanent in politics...) votin pattern o slim majority or near enough fer an easy coalition SNP government in Holyrood an huge tae massive 'majorities' o SNP MPs in Westminster.

This means we hae a 'domestic' government wi a slim majority, yet wi slim majority that looks able tae push stuff through that is demonstrably unpopular wi the voters, an wieldin powers beyond Holyrood that too few folk are aware o, an meanwhile oor representation in The Corridors of Powers over Affairs of State is... well, zilch really. We, through oor Stronger Voice for Scotland, hae next tae nae influence ower the areas o War, Statecraft, Macro-economics, Constitution, y'know, things every country dis.

Which leaves us in the strange situation o haein an 'elective dictatorship' o twa varieties, the 'untrammelled power wi a slim majority' kind, an the bizarre situation at the ither end wi nae feckin influence through the stonkin majorities o reps we send, yet because we take part in their elections, we get an we accept a government wi bugger aw support here, an yet the power tae stop an start everythin here, includin how we deal wi oor ain feckin Public Health... an that's a red-line fer me, it grinds ma gears that they're failin us oan Public Health, baith Holyrood an Westminster, Public Health is one o the very few justifications there is fer haein a feckin government in the first place, maist o the rest o oor lives we could get by withoot them, but it's infectious diseases we cannae fight individually an still live in a society...

An obviously, sae long as we sit in this ludicrous situation, it's the Big Brother we didnae vote fer that's stoppin us fae resolvin oor Democratic Quandary oan which everythin else rests, the Big Problem that showed its big smiley face oan the mornin o the 24th o June 2016, an promptly got sat oan. Ah'll say nae mair on that...

Ah've aye supported Holyrood as the obvious step forward fae Union tae Independence, it obviously made sense tae form a polity wi a parliament, an here ah thank the guid lord above fer Alex Salmond's genius stroke o properly namin the Scottish Government. We need tae remember that, there is only one Scottish Government.

But that support wisnae fer a devolved government under the British Union, no tae that, no ever, no thank you, either at 'this' level o devolution or at 'that' level o devolution, it is whit it is, aw devolution is maxxed-oot awreadys as far as ah'm concerned, it's the *retention* o the powers that nixes it, every time. Naw, we cannae stop here, no at this point oan Big Tam's motorway tae independence, ye cannae stop oan a motorway fer very guid reason, an when ye've got an 'elective dictatorship' juggernat oan the yin shooder an an 'unelective dictatorship' juggernaut bearin doon oan yer ither shooder, well, stop here an it's gaunnae get awfy messy, awfy quick...

Dinnae, ever, think a government is oan your side.

So there ah am standin at the bus-stop mindin ma ain business when he brushes past me an stoaps at th'ither end o the shelter, ah wis waitin oan the number 16 fae Oxgangs, ah'd feenished daein ma stairs fer the day an ah'd a lot tae be gettin oan wi afore ah had tae get ready tae go oot so ah'm lookin tae see where the bus is an here is he no lookin back at me, ah caught his een fer jist a second, ye ken how it is, an then ah looked awa an by the time ah looked back he's turned his heid awa but ah kept lookin efter that an ah wis awfy taken wi his een, how fast they were, they were aw ower the road an they gied him a shifty look like he wis bein chased or hunted an he wis lookin fer the nearest exit but we were standin at a bus-stop so that couldnae be it, mibbe he wis oan the lookoot fer somebody but he couldnae find them, ah dinne ken, but they had me wonderin aw the same, so ah'm wonderin aboot his een an watchin an here the bus comes along an he gets oan ahint me, but ah sat inside an he went up top...

So there ah am daein ma messages in the store, mindin ma ain business, when suddenly ah see him wi his basket up th'ither end o the breakfast cereals aisle, ah wis lookin fer some All-Bran cos ah like tae be regular, in fact ah think a had a box o it in ma hand an ma ither hand wis oan ma trolley when ah saw him lookin at me, ah looked intae his een fer jist a second, ken, jist long enough tae see them twinkle an then ah looked doon at ma All-Bran as it tumbled intae ma trolley in slow-motion an by the time ah looked up he wis steppin oot o sicht at the end o the Cornflakes, so ah'm aff an runnin an of course ah wid hae tae hae the trolley wi the wonky wheel, aye happens tae me, an by the time ah've wiggled an squeaked ma way up tae the Cornflakes he's awa, couldnae find him onywhere in the entire store ah wis up an doon thae aisles fer ages...

So there ah am standin up at the dancin mindin ma ain business waitin in a line when he brushes past me, an ah caught his shifty een, jist fer a second, it's funny cos ah had jist been thinkin aboot him, this gorgeous man that had caught me eye that very day at the bus-stop an then that ah saw again in the store jist a matter o hours since an ah wis thinkin o thae furtively keen een dartin aboot twinklin an flashin like diamonds an his soft wavy hair, jist a bit too long, jist cryin oot fer ma hands tae get run through it, an here he wis, jist brushin past me ootside the toilets at the dancin so ah gies up ma place in the line of course an ah follaes him back through tae the main hall an wid ye credit it he's vanished again, nae sign o him onywhere an so ah'm up n doon an ah'm oan ma third lap o the hall tryin tae find him when ah sees ma pal so ah goes up tae her an ah'm laughin by this time, laughin jist a bit hysterically as ah mind it an ah goes up tae her an ah'm tellin her aw aboot this man an how ah've got tae find him an how it's absolute fate we're meant tae be th'gither an aw aboot his lovely twinklin een an his lovely wavy hair when ah look roond an he's suddenly standin right next tae me, right there at ma shooder, cos here's the thing, he'd jist been tae the bar tae buy ma pal a drink, she drinks gin an tonic, an they'd only jist met in the line at the door tae get in so ah gies him a big grin an says Hullo! It's me! Me! D'ye no recognise me? an gies him a big kiss oan his lovely lips, ye should've seen the look oan his face...

Course that wis many years ago now but when ah look at him lyin ower there, flat-oot, lyin oan the settee, ah can still see that look, an thae beautiful furtively-twinklin shifty een...

What if we're looking at Holyrood the wrong way round..?

I've watched the setting up and positioning of the Independence for Scotland Party (ISP) with some interest, and fully sympathise with their ultimate aim of Independence for Scotland. As an SNP supporter and voter for the best part of 40 years this is of course what I wish to see more than anything, but have also watched, with some horror, the diversion of the SNP's energy and momentum by an entryist claque of Student Union types, a devotion to identity politics and a growing deafness to its own supporters, voters and even its own members as they try to avert an electoral disaster.

But the SNP's woes are for another time, what's on my mind today is the discussion playing out around the Holyrood parliament's electoral system. I see lots of exhortations to use my '2nd vote' wisely, rather than waste it on the SNP for no list seats, or waste it on the Unionists by giving them list seats. This is based on the SNP's predicted success on the '1st vote', in the constituencies, and has some roots in the "2nd vote Green" campaign of 2003 which led to our Rainbow Parliament of that year. The idea that some might call gaming the system but which is anyway creatively using both our votes to produce a particular desired outcome... kinda like normal voting, but doing it with a wink.

But what if we have the votes the wrong way round? What if we look at the 'list vote' as the 1st vote, and the constituency vote as the '2nd vote'? What if we *first vote* for the party we want to form the government, or be represented in the government, and *second vote* for which individual candidate on offer we want to represent us in the parliament. I don't think it says '1st vote' and '2nd vote' on the polling forms.

Then, when counting, we look at the parliament in terms of numbers of MSPs elected first, then which constituency candidates fill which seats before allocating the top-ups from the list. I'm not talking about how we actually count the actual votes cast, we still do that as today, but in terms of how we think about our votes. Instead of thinking all those SNP 'list votes' are wasted after electing the constituency candidates, think of those votes as justifying the constituency candidates their seats (perhaps because individually they don't justify their own election, but that's another story) and the remaining seats allocated at top-up are justified by the aim of the system which is to deliver a proportional parliament.

This may not sound like good news to the ISP (or Greens/SSPetc) because given the choice between a minority or majority SNP government, I think many of those parties' supporters would opt for a majority, it is certainly in reach as 2011 showed. Digression, it rips my knitting to hear that the AMS was designed to prevent the SNP ever getting a majority, when that was never true, but it is a system designed to prevent any party getting a majority *without a majority of votes*, it's a proportional system ffs, it says it on the box!

But, designed to prevent it or not, majority government IS possible (cf 2011) and a government with the energy of the one Alex Salmond led is an attractive thought. The idea of a minority government similar to the present one with a smaller party 'pushing them on' while simultaneously opposing them on fundamental policy issues less so...

I fear we undermine the proportional system we have in Holyrood when we talk of MSPs elected on the list having any less right to be there, and I fear we do that when we talk of them being elected on our '2nd vote', so what if that's our '1st vote'..?

Strugglin along...

Ah thought o cryin this post "Ma Struggle", but ye ken whit folk are like, there's nae irony these days, so ah cried it Strugglin along, cos that's whit ah'm daein, like maist folk... jist daein away... ye see it aw... ah'm existin...

Whit ah am strugglin wi is aw the thoughts an ideas, millin aroond, swillin aroond, an generally messin up ma heid. This isnae jist tae dae wi coronavirus, ah've had some o these thoughts fer decades, weel intae last century, they're less like thoughts noo an mair like part o ma brain, part o ma wirin. As a fer instance ah'll tell ye aboot yin o ma thoughts, then ah'll hae a coffee...

A song came oan ma Spotify yesterday, it's yin o ma Earwax songs, it's oan ma permanent playlist if ye like. Ah've liked it fae when it came oot, it goes...

"In a little while from now, if I'm not feeling any less sour,
I promise myself to treat myself and visit a nearby tower,
and climbing to the top, I'll throw myself off,
in an effort to, make clear to whom-ever what it's like when you're shattered..."

It struck me recently that when that song came oot we were oan a caravan holiday in St Andrews. Ah used tae take masel away fer a wander up tae the Cathedral, an pay 2 an a half new pence tae climb St Rule's Tower, get a braw view o St Andrews, an contemplate throwin masel off. Ah checked the dates, ah wis nine year auld at the time. Ah wis becomin aware o ma sexuality at the time, the thrills ah wis gettin fae jist even seein men were startin tae ring alarm bells in ma wee heid. Mind, this wis 1972.

Since then, any tower, any brig, any clifftop, ah'm aye thinkin it, ah'm aye wonderin if ah could, if ah should. Ah've climbed towers an crossed brigs an scrambled up cliffs, jist tae hae that thought. Scott Monument, Dean Brig, the Cat's Nick, you name it ah've been up it wonderin if ah could...

There's a normal human experience in there, we aw ponder oor mortality at some point, we aw think aboot how close we've come tae the edge, how we risk things an how we protect oorsels, but some o us live wi that constantly, it becomes automatic. Ye hae tae consciously stop yerself fae haein thae automatic negative thoughts. An it's no jist the jumpin aff high places, there's railways, there's tablets, there's knifes, there's Portobello Beach... there's suicide opportunities an ideas aw roond us, we live wi them. Ah've lived wi thae ideas, aw ma days.

Whit ah don't always (an ah emphasise the *always* here) think helps is talkin aboot them. Ah think it helped me no talkin aboot them, it helped me fer long enough that ye jist didnae talk aboot them, ye kept them tae yersel. Ye got oan wi livin. Some folk hae aye lived wi suicidal ideas, occasionally, intermittently, or constantly. Ah huvnae jist held them masel, ah've worked a career in helpin folk wi them an aw, ah know a bit aboot ma subject, an ah get that it helps some folk tae talk aboot them, that that resolves them fer some people, and that it's a subject that's suffered fae no bein talked aboot honestly, that's been hidden under a dark veil, but like any subject it can be talked aboot too much tae the exclusion o other subjects, an worse, it can be weaponised tae push other viewpoints, an that helps naebody.

Ah know it's an auld-fashioned take, but ah jist want tae make the point if it's no obvious awready, we're currently wanderin aboot in a world that's fu o risk an fu o the risk o death, we're aw contemplatin the subject whether we're talkin aboot it or no, but some o us hae been quietly contemplatin it aw oor days...

The song -

Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone Again (Naturally)

(It got tae Number 3 in the Hit Parade oan ma 9th birthday...)

Right, ah'm away tae pit the kettle oan...

First it came for the Chinese...

First it came for the Chinese, and I did not take care of my hand hygiene at every opportunity-

   Because I was not Chinese.


Then it came for the South Koreans, and I did not distance myself socially and stop visiting bars-

   Because I was not South Korean.


Then it came for the Italians, and I did not lock everything down and shelter in place-

   Because I was not Italian.


And then it came for me-

   And there was no-one left to do anything and nothing left to do but wait...




After Pastor Martin Niemoller

Who the hell is Sophia Pangloss?

Who the hell is Sophia Pangloss? I have asked myself that question many times over many years, and it's a question I think needs answered at last.

She is the voice in my head
She is my mother speaking
She was, and is, a joke
She's a nobody
She's a voice
She is my voice
She's crabbit
She's witty
She's a maven
She's a storyteller
She's a history, she's a herstory, she's a mystory...

I have two voices in my head, one speaks Scots and the other English. On Twitter I originally tried to only tweet in Scots, though the English slipped through, and after the Indyref loss it thrust itself through and I lost my Scots voice for a while. Now, Sophia tweets in Scots, the language she learned at hame, Stuart tweets in English, the language he learned at school. When I speak publicly on Twitter, I picture two audiences; there's Us (us Scots that ken whit ah'm oan aboot), and there's Us and everybody else on Twitter. It depends on who I mean when I mean I want it to mean something to someone...

My mother is my heart, you know that. She gave me her history to add to mine, she taught me more than she'll ever know. Some of my voice is an echo of hers, I heard her, I want you to hear her.

Sophia Pangloss arrived in this life at the back end of last century, back in the days of "a/s/l?", which out of pure contrariness I had taken to answering "twohundredandtwentysomething/f/lithuania"... Then there's Tragedy Day by Gareth Roberts... Candide by Voltaire... they all collided and Sophia was born. Much drink and many spliffs were involved. The Doctor was Dr Pangloss and the Doctor's Daughter had to have a name. Having spent much of the 1980's resisting the pressure to have a 'camp name' which would probably have been Sophia (I think it was first suggested by Fiona Scone in 1985 though it may have been by the Marchioness of Newington...), that seemed the obvious choice, Sophia's sophisticated, but she's not really, she's a sophist, but she's not, really...

Pangloss means 'all' and 'tongue' (or does it mean pang and loss..?) She's all tongue, she's all talk, she's glib, she's universal, she's all about the talk.

In short she's a classy thinker that talks shit about anything and everything.

She's a biddy that bides up a stair. She's the ghostly face in the window of a block of tenements in a photo taken in the eighteen hundreds in Duke Street, she's the camp follower of the Edinburgh Mob, she's the windae-hinger an sometime windae-slinger, she's Isa, she's Cissie, she's Dolly, she's Molly, she's the wumman that never had and never has a voice.

She's my voice. That's new. I never felt I could write. I did well at primary school, but it became apparent in the Academy that English wasn't my strongest subject. I shudder at the thought of Miss Shedden... I still blame her for having to start wearing specs as a teen, sitting up at midnight struggling with her English homework assignments... it was the subject I did worst in at O and Higher grades. I was a scientist back then. Went through my life being hampered by that feeling, that I couldn't write, until I wrote in Scots. That felt daring, a laugh, honest, sharp. I could write (I think) when I never thought I could before. Speaking as Sophia is me speaking as a Scot, in the language I was taught not to use at school, in Scotland.

Sophia's crabbit, she disnae suffer fools at aw, gladly or otherwise, she's hard in the nose. She says whit needs tae be said. She cuts the crap.

She thinks she's funny.

I have always loved learning. Always. My favourite books in our house were Arthur Mees's 10 volume Family Encyclopaedia. I read them all. I admit, that has given me some very outdated mental pictures of the world and I have spent a lifetime correcting his errors, but that's ok too. Learn. So, a lot of Sophia's work has been collecting, curating, hunting for the lead‐ins to get folk interested and help them learn. Understand.

Linlithgow will always be where my history-soaked heart will lie, there's a spot in the Palace that is forever mine, but Edinburgh being where I settled and made my nest, it was an obvious place to start. When I read the tale of a Woman For Sale I wanted to tell that story, and that's how shootinfaetheshin started. It's a way to tell some stories people won't know, my own included...

Storytelling has meaning, we all learn through stories, from Wee Willie Winkie to Red Dead Redemption. We all want to sit at someone's knee and hear a story that paints beautiful pictures in our heads. I want to be the knee.

If we don't learn from history, we don't learn. Understand.

So who the hell is Stuart?

He's Scottish, born in Bangour, grew up in Linlithgow, lives in Leith, where Honeyman Old stepped ashore after being cleared from his home in Sutherland in the 18th century, at the start of the Clearances, carrying the Old name I still carry 6 generations later...

This Old had to carry that name behind three popular and successful siblings through school, (to be followed by another, just as successful) competing to be heard all the time, luckily getting the grades to choose between a future in law or medicine (that was the sum total of 70s careers guidance) so I moved from a West Lothian council flat to Edinburgh Medical School (one of 3 'cooncil hoosers' out of 186 in our year), but I really moved to escape from Linlithgow, where growing up gay in the 60s and 70s had been utterly exhausting, I had a major depressive episode after 2 years at Medical School, (I speak as a trained professional, looking back... but at the time no-one noticed) and of course, I came out as gay at the same time. The two were connected. That was a Very Difficult Time, I came out the same week the first GRIDS cases were being reported in the Gay News. That, plus the article on fist-fucking had me flapping that closet door open and shut more times than Goldie Hawn on a purple one, my coming out was a bumpy one, like most people's... Gay Switchboard helped me out here, a lot... my family, not so much...

Then, and I consider this the luxury of my life, I was allowed 2 further years of fully-supported first-class Scottish university education to compensate for my failure to break the class ceiling, which I put to good use 'expanding my horizons' and becoming the person I am. This involved a lot of sex, drugs and politics... and some rock'n'roll yes, but mainly electronic dance music, and eventually another crisis, playing out in my twenties the adolescent love-games I always felt denied in my teens... wish I hadn't bothered, that kind of drama only leads to... well yeah, it led to there one night, that long dark night of the soul... and I'm writing this so, that all worked out okay... in the end...

From that low point things had to turn around, and they did. After my drop-out period I was bartending in a local bar for a colony of artisans, pink triangle proudly worn behind the bar at all times, happily settling down to domestic bliss in pre-marriage days, never feeling the need in my relationships for a certificate from the State, just for the State to stay out of my relationships. I remember sitting one quiet night staffing the Gay Switchboard phones and my colleague saying "Have you ever thought of becoming a psychiatric nurse?" (don't ya just love the old-fashioned language I use?) So I did...

33 years later I have retired. I feel I have balanced my scales, I have returned at least what this society has given me. My career, mostly in elderly acute hospital admission and community psychiatric nursing, was clean and fulfilling, I spent 8 years on Switchboard, befriended and supported many gay men, trained many new volunteers and organised the first ever Scottish Gay and Lesbian Switchboards conference. I built myself a home with two beautiful Scottish men and six beautiful Scottish cats over the years (at different times, I'm not an old cat-woman, yet...). I built myself a private life and closed the stair door...

Reader, that's who the hell Sophia Pangloss is.

Ah'm entirely suspicious...

Ye see me ah'm entirely suspicious o religions an ah make nae distinctions, ah mean religions in the literal an mair informal senses, established churches, faiths, maist isms an belief systems... ah say that haein been christened masel, brought up 'in the church', read the Big Bible oan ma granda's knee, the yin wi the great pictures, even voluntarily kept it up in ma teens, flirted wi re-birth, but ah wis essentially brought up as an atheist, Church o Scotland if ye like.. even though ah got mair instruction at school oan the Resurrection than ah ever got oan the Enlightenment, ah knew that at the heart o Protestantism wis a core a Scottish atheism, an it aw sprung fae the Heart o Edinburgh... no the Heart o Midlothian, naw no there, that's another story, but fae somewhere between St Giles' no-quite-a-Cathedral tae John Knox's no-really-a-House, probably, by ma way o thinkin, ah wis aye aware o a winkin eye in the Kirk, a respectful scepticism, an acknowledgement that tho we were singin songs tae a higher power, we aw knew that the real higher power lay up the Bridges, in George Square, that scientific an rational studies were the real way tae the Big Answers tae the Big Questions, but the kirk had its function an aw, it ran oor schools an hospitals, it kept oor hatches matches an dispatches records, it gied them that wanted somewhere tae go oan a Sunday, an in the days afore telly an aw the rest that meant somethin, really... naw it did, really, it wis murder polis borin oan a Sunday...

But these days no sae much, these days the kirks cannae compete, an there's no sae many folk need somewhere tae go oan a Sunday... or else they're no able... mainly that in fact... Naw, these days the auld religions are dyin, an with them the auld truths o wumman wis made fer man an this is the real body an blood o Christ, laudin the pure an castin down the heretics, aw the ritual o ceremonies o namin, o remembrancin, aw the... aye ah'm gaunnae say it, aw the men in frocks pontificatin oan whit should go oan in public places, whit should go oan in folks' private lifes, whit should go oan in folks' heids, whit passes fer acceptable discourse, an whit thinkin wis right-thinkin an whit wis wrong...

Ah'm no standin here an watchin new religions takin the place o auld religions an no sayin anythin. Gender ideology tae me displays aw the signs o a religion, in fact, wi aw the TWAW tenets an 'wrong body' spiritual talk it's auld religion wi barely a slap o lippie oan, it's a poor effort an like a lot o folk ah've dismissed it this past few years as nae mair than that, other folks' lives, no ma concern... but as this past year has worn dreadfully oan we've come tae see the extent o the spread o this religion intae whit ah'm reliably an regularly informed is oor only viable route tae Scottish independence, an THAT maitters tae me. That's why ah look at a party ah've stepped in an oot o fer 40 years an always felt wis 'mine' an ah dinnae like whit ah see, an that's why ah'll keep sayin whit ah see... ah'm entirely suspicious.

Mirror mirror...

Ah wis watchin Doris answerin the right honourable an fabulous Joanna Cherry wi the words "I refer the Right Honourable and Fabulous Lady to the answer I gave a moment ago", an ah had a flashback o Maggie utterin the exact same words, year in year oot fer a decade, an then it morphed intae a vision, like in Polanski's Macbeth where Macbeth has a wobbly at a pairty an sees the unendin succession o Banquo's descendants, ye know that bit, the unbroken line o Kings leadin aw the way doon tae Jamie Saxt, (cos he wis the original version's sponsor ye see, a nice wee bit o spin fer Jamie, the auld fox he wis)...

Anyway, this vision is like when ye fold yer dressin-table wing-mirrors in an ye see yersel tae infinity, that sort o thing, an ah suddenly saw a long line o Tory Prime Ministers stretchin away oot o sight tellin Scotland that they're shite but we'll take aw yer money an yer first-born... It's an awfy vision o the future, except ah'm describin the last 40 years, dinnae ever tell me Scots 'wullnae put up wi this' or they 'wullnae put up wi that', we've pit up wi it aw awreadys, an we've let oorsels get colonised by wankers ffs!

It could well be oor future if we dinnae dae somethin different, somethin unorthodox, somethin that works... an here ah'll spell it oot fer ye, Wur. No. Daein. It. Yet.

Have ah got this right?

Right, bear wi me, ah'm jist workin this yin oot.

It looks like, gaun by the polls, that Labour could get wiped oot in the constituencies in May...

So aw the constituency MSPs are fightin tae get tae the top o the lists...

Which they'll manage cos they ken everybody, they hae clout in the party...

So aw the list MSPs are oot the door come May...

Tae be 'replaced' by aw the 'constituency' MSPs...

Some o them oan their fifth term, 17 years an countin...

So, Kezia's rejuvenation o Scottish Labour is gunnae depend oan the combined energies o a diminished bunch o agein party insiders that hae jist been rejected by the voters, individually an en masse...

Have ah got this right?

Mibbe ah'm deid, mibbe ah'm no...

Mibbe ah'm deid, mibbe ah'm no... but ah am only a character in some puir sowel's addled heid, born oot o ower much whisky an no enough guid sense, so dinnae greet, jist heave awa lads, ah'm no deid yet... or mibbe ah am...

Onyway, if ah am deid, ah'm the only yin. The indyref's ower, the lies were selt an boucht, the votes cast an counted, an fer the time bein we Scots hae been pit back in oor box. Actually, we climbed in, but the point's the same, naebody's deid. It wis a noisy battle, a messy yin, but no a bloody yin. Noo that it's ower, an we lost, oor priority is ta protect oorsels, oor kin, an oor nation. We hae tae build a wa tae defend whit's oors...

The bells are tolling fiercely,

And the cry comes louder in,

Mothers wailing for their children,

Sisters for their slaughtered kin.

All is terror and disorder,

Till the Provost rises up,

Calm as though he had not tasted,

Of the fell and bitter cup;

All so stately from his sorrow,

Rose the old undaunted chief,

That you had not deemed to see him,

His was more than common grief.

'Let them cease that dismal yelling

It is time enough to ring

When the fortress-strength of Scotland

Stoops to ruin, like its king.

Let the bells be kept for warning,

Not for terror or alarm;

When they next are heard to thunder

Let each man and stripling arm.

Bid the women cease their wailing:

Do they think that woeful strain

From the bloody heaps of Flodden

Can redeem their dearest slain?

Bid them cease, or rather hasten

To the churches, every one,

There to pray to Mary Mother,

And to her Anointed Son,

That the thunderbolt above us

May not fall in ruin yet,

That in fire and blood and rapine

Scotland's glory may not set.'

Noo look, ah ken it's a tad dramatic, an ah'm no suggestin fer a meenit that we send aw oor wummen tae the Kirk tae pray, no when the wummen o Scotland are some o oor best fighters, an fer the life o me ah cannae see whit guid prayin'll dae, but taen aw in aw, it fits wi whit ah'm feelin. We've lost, we've aw got wounds tae lick, but sae long as there's fight left in us, even if it's only a hundred o us, we're no aboot tae roll ower an show oor bellies, we're a fightin bunch, an Scotland's glory will not set, no yet...

This wis a message fae the other side...

Cast yer mind back...

Jist cast yer mind back fer a meenit, tae the Sixties if ye can, an mind how different life wis, fer abody. Mind coal fires, mind men at work an wummen daein messages, or spendin an entire day washin claes, mind weans gettin hammered, mind makin parritch the nicht afore, mind... weel mind yer ain life, whit wis it like fer you personally 50 year ago? How different wis it fae the life ye hae noo?

Ah'll bet, like me, it wis a different world, an no jist oan account o nae washin machines an haein tae soak yer lentils, it wis hugely different oan a political level an aw. We were at the height o the post-war British welfare state project, we were still bein reminded daily o whit we'd been through tae get that, aulder fowk had seen real sufferin baith afore an durin the war,  an how if we worked hard fer the country, through times that were hard, it wid gie us somethin that fowk really valued, it wid gie us security..

It's the mark of the enlightened society ah want tae see that offers that tae abody that bides here, basic security. An that's whit's bein whittled oot o the system since Maggie took office an steered this country taewards bein a neurotic 51st State. Every man fer hissel an deil tak the hindmaist, untrammled markets, makin money oot o money, an haein fowk in unemployment an underemployment, in poverty an ignorance, in worry an anxiety an fear, bein judged a price worth payin, so's that the same corruptin greedy interests can stack their profits withoot a care... That's no the country ah want tae bide in.

But think back again tae whit that meant fer us aw, fer a while we aw committed tae the same consensus. That pact wis broken in 79 an hasnae been fixed. We've had a generation o right-wing governments pursuin free market policies an their thirst isnae yet sated. Gied free-rein the Etonian cabal we've currently allowed tae sit in government wid turn this country upside doon wi neo-liberal outrages, think aboot it, an the best that can be said o the Westminster alternative is that Milliband probably widnae dae much but he'd slow the process, he's certainly no a socialist, an oan the sidelines there's a pale-blue Liberal rump wi twa faces an a brass neck haudin the coats...

er... ah lost ma threid there... ah wis thinkin, oh aye, ah wis jist thinkin aboot how much has changed in 50 years, it's like anither world really int'it? An whit we've got tae think aboot noo is the 2060's... we've got tae think aboot how we pit oor mark oan the future, whit sort o a country we want tae gie the 60's weans tae bide in, the yins tae come. It'll be as hugely different tae them as the 60's wis tae us, er, is tae us, er... d'ye get whit ah'm gettin at?

We cannae influence everythin, ah've nae doot there'll be mair channels oan the telly pumpin oot mair keich, fowk'll no ken a twin-tub if it came up an hit them, an aw stovies'll come in a wee sachet, but we can influence the things they write in the history books. We've  got a choice tae make atween twa futures. We can stick wi a system that's gettin dragged ever further right, where a bunch o fruitcake teapartyists can get a quarter o the vote an the Tories reaction is how far wid ye like us tae lurch? An an opposition that frankly breaks yer heart, where goeth the Labour party? ... We can stick wi that, or we can choose a different path, an we can build a new consensus, tae tak the powers that we can wi independence tae build a better nation...

Are we hell...

Somethin that's been botherin me o late, an it wis brocht tae ma mind again by the post fae Bonningtom Mill jist roond the corner fae me yesterday, lookin at the creaky an frankly undemocratic apparatus o the dyin state we find oorsels in, is a thocht ah've lang been mullin ower anent oor representation in the Palace o Fools oan the Thames. Anne lays oot the lie o the land perfectly an so ah'll no repeat her. She refers tae oor representation as bein 59 oot o 650 MPs, or 9% oot o the entire Hoose o Commons, roughly in line wi oor population share. But that only tells half the story...

See, back afore the war, Scotland sent 74 MPs tae Westminster, oot o a total o 615. By ma reckonin that's 12%. That fell efter the war tae 71 oot o 630, or 11.2%, 72 oot o 659 in 1997 or 10.9%, then doon tae the 9% it is noo. The plan wis tae further cut that tae 52 oot o 600, or 8.6%, a plan currently abandoned, but mark ma words if we say nae they'll be back at that again gied half a chance, they, an ah mean ony an aw o the three anti-independence parties, 4 if ye count UKIP, they wid aw love tae cut Scotland's numbers further. Noo, ye may say 'Weel, that's cos we've got Holyrood where we didnae afore' an ah can see where ye're comin fae an aye, Holyrood's daein great an the mair powers tae it the better, takin the hit oan the chin o sendin less MPs doon tae London, weel we'll jist hae tae manage an onyway they figure less in oor minds noo onyroads, an they'll hae less tae dae, jist the reserved powers really, that cannae tak aw their time, so they're really jist part-time MPs (ah nearly said party-time MPs there... D'oh!) in fact we'll jist club them aw th'gither like hale-time equivalents an cut yer numbers slap bang wollop...

But that's Defence... That's Foreign Affairs... an Welfare... an the Economy... an the 'Constitution'...

That's big issue stuff, real man-the-barricades stuff... an we've let oor representation in the Mither o Parliaments, that's bound us in sic a lovin an big-bosomed embrace fer 3 centuries, we've let oor representation oan aw the Great Matters o State faw fae 12% tae 9% in the last century (that's a decline o 25%, ah'm gettin guid at this eh?) at a time when we're supposedly #bettertogether?

Are we hell...

Mission creep...

Like a lot o fowk roond here ah ken next tae bugger aw aboot Mali. Ah ken where it is, like, an Timbuktu's there ah ken that, but that's it. Why we're even sendin sodjers there ah've nae idea they say they're jist gaun there tae watch, but like a lot o fowk ah'm worried that they might jist be gaun there tae watch but ye ken whit sodjers are like yince they see a fight they jist want tae join in they cannae help it it's whit they dae efter aw... so, like a lot o fowk ah'm worried aboot mission creep, aboot gettin drawn in, the mair we talk aboot the war in Mali it becomes oor war in Mali ken? the mair we discuss it the mair real it becomes...

An that's whit's pittin the Unionist neb oot o joint th'day, we're makin it aw become real the mair we talk aboot it. The mair we discuss the mechanics o how Scotland becomes an independent nation, the mair real that 'new' Scottish nation becomes...

The Westminster Government disnae want tae hae talks wi the Scottish Government aboot whit happens in the event o a Yes vote cos that involves bringin the 'Constitutional Commissioners' oanstage, this body, these people, these brains, whitever... ah imagine it'll be people an no jist actual brains but are ye wi me? The step forrit th'day wis that (inevitably) an independent electoral body said that in a modern democratic country like oors, there's a proper way tae dae these things an that means that we aw hae tae prepare fer the fact that maist o us might want independence. We aw hae tae accept that. Ma government has tae accept that. That is tae say ma government in London, Cameron's government, has tae accept it. The UK has tae act in ma best interest, in oor best interest, an prepare fer the fact that we in Scotland might vote Yes in Autumn 2014. We want oor government tae at the very least provide some idea, some certainty aboot oor future road, whether that coincides wi theirs or no...

An so they hae tae show us that road, whit it'll look like, whit's oan it? who negotiates? wi who? when? where?

They hae tae agree aw that wi the Scottish Government, an in agreein it they make it that bit mair real, an they take us that bit further doon that very road. That's whit ah cry mission creep...an it's excitin...

Yin last Hurrah!

Here's ma take oan the Olympics, it'll be quick...

Ah enjoyed watchin it, despite the smell...

But then, ah cannae mind an Olympics or Commonwealth Games that ah didnae enjoy watchin. Ah like the Ceremonies wi their fireworks an human art, ah like tae see fowk winnin efter pittin in sic hard work, an ah like tae see 'ma team' daein weel. Like maist fowk ah've been able tae switch 'ma team' every twa year atween supportin a TeamGB an a TeamScotland, mainly cos ah've had nae choice. But gied the choice, ah'd raither support TeamScotland at baith Olympic an Commonwealth Games, an soon we'll hae that choice...

Of course, despite the sudden appearance o summery weather, whit sets the London Games apairt fae the pack has been the torrential doonpour o constitutional debate that's drenched us aw, soaked the airwaves an nearly drooned the competition. Whether or no an athlete draped the flag aboot their shooders, sang God Save The Queen wi gusto or jist mumbled the words (or even worse jist kept their mooths shut) wis discussed every bit as much as the competitors times or scores. Heavy meanin engulfed the Games like floodwater, an it's a surprise ony o us survived at aw! Successes under that flag, that anthem, an that TeamGB were of course leapt upoan by certain commentators as evidence o a strong Union an an indicator that Scotland wid vote 'No' in 2014...

But here's a thing, if aw this Union-flag-wavin wis supposed tae propel us tae a 'No' vote, whit will the next twa year bring? Ah'll tell ye whit. Fae noo oan, it's TeamScotland aw the way, fae noo oan aw thae young athletes will be trainin tae represent their country an tae compete under the Saltire, an wi luck plenty o them'll be drapin the lovely blue an white cross aboot their shooders in Glesca in 2014. An aw thae commentators that celebrated 'British' achievements in London will be hard-pressed no tae gie the same enthusiasm tae celebratin Scottish, Welsh, Irish an English achievements in Glesca. If 2012 wis the highwater mark o the Union then get ready tae see that concoction o the past get swept awa in the Scottish deluge o 2014. That's why there's been that smell in the air, it's the smell o desperation comin fae the No-sayers as they squeeze oot yin last Hurrah! fer their dyin Union.

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?"