You know, I always thought of myself as a nice, even tempered, over thinking kind of guy. If someone was to punch me in the face, I’d probably spend two days trying to analyze why they’d done it before finally getting angry.
Not any more though. Oh No. No sirree. No more Mr Perkin Nice Guy.
You see folks I now have to admit it. I’m a ..(Gulp)… Cybernat.
Before I explain as to when and why I came to that conclusion. Does anyone else out there remember the good old Perkin? That amazing ginger and oatmeal biscuit your granny used to bake.
Yeah it’s true what they say. Nostalgia ain’t wot it used to be.
Whatever happened to them? Try as I might, I can’t seem to find them anywhere.
Guess they’ve gone the same way as these other quaint, old fashioned things. Fondly remembered but no longer used in these ‘more enlightened’ times under Westminster rule.
Things like threepenny, tanner, florin, common sense, decency and morality.
All is not lost however. I’ve found a new use for the word Perkin. Yep you can use it just like me as a means of emphasis. A way of swearing but not swearing, if you catch my drift.
And it feels good too.
So no more Mr Perkin Nice Guy. I’m Perkin Mr Angry and yes I’m a Perkin Cybernat and Perkin proud of it too.
Just as they say you’ll always remember where you were and the exact time you heard about the assassination of JFK, then I’ll always remember the exact time and place I went from mild mannered to Perkin raging.
I for one, was a bit fed up of finding myself all fired up with hope and enthusiasm by the works of Wings, Bella, Tommy Sheridan, Robin McAlpine, Alan Bissett and especially the Wee Ginger Dug to name but nine. Yeah I know I’ve only put up six names but you really need to see Alan Bissets’s alter-egos. Phenomental so they are. Yeah I know phenomental’s no a word but it Perkin well should be. Then to have that air of hope and optimism driven out by some of the lacklustre performances by our elected politicians is just, well it’s just not Perkin fait
C’mon guys, I know you think you’re doing the correct thing by being diplomatic and all that but sometimes you need to know the difference between doing the correct thing and doing the Perkin right thing.
Like a volcano reaching ‘erupting point’, everything built up.
“What’s your Plan B?
Imagine please, in the days when Sir Alex Ferguson was in charge of Manchester United and a football match against Liverpool was looming. What would have been his response if the manager of Liverpool had asked him what his tactics for the match were? Or if one of the representatives of the fair and unbiased media had come away with. “C’mon Alex tell the people of Manchester what your tactics are going to be. They have a right to know. What”s your Plan B if Liverpool score first? C’mon Alex tell us. The people of Manchester have a right to know. C’mon Alex tell the good people of Manchester, or do you not have a Plan B
Any suggestions as to what his response would be? Don’t think he’d have used the word Perkin somehow although it would have been quite similar.
Who gives a flying Perk what currency we use. We’ve got more important things to concern us
There was the woman who had to miss her regular interrogation by Job Centre staff about her struggles to find a job because her child had been badly bitten by a neighbour’s dog and she had to take her to hospital. She found time to phone the office with this news. But when she reported there a few days later, her interrogator denied having received this message and told her that her benefits had been cut off. Appealing this decision, she eventually got them reinstated, but only after waiting many months for a hearing.
But if you insist on talking about finance.
So all the banks are going to shut up shop and Perk Off south of the border faster than Osborne fleeing from Bernard Ponsonby are they?
Wait up what’s this in the Financial Times of all places? US banks already readying themselves to quit UK for Ireland ahead of the planned ‘EU In/Out Referendum”….
Yes Ireland. You remember Ireland don’t you. That’s the Perkin basket case of a country that poor wee stupid Scotland could end up like if we’re stupid enough to think that we can run oor ain wee place better than the Eton Mess.
What’s your Perkin Plan B for that then?
They used to say you could divide this Perkin country into the ‘Haves’ and ‘Have Nots’. Not any more it’s not. It’s now ‘Those that Rip Off’ and ‘Those that get Ripped Off’ and in some cases, as in some Call Centres, you get the Rip-Offers forcing the Rip-Offees to Rip Off other Rip-Offees or end up as one of the Really Really Rip-Offees , on the dole queue suffering the sanctions as outlined above.
Building faster. Reaching critical point
Independence Will Mean the loss of British National Treasures like ‘Dr Who’ and ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ and most important of all THE NATIONAL LOTTERY.
C’mon get serious will you. Dr Who and Strictly Come Dancing are of more concern than Trident, Food Banks, Benefit Sanctions etc etc.
Hey hang on there. You might have hit on something. Is subliminal advertising not an urban myth after all? Are there brainwashing waves crashing across the airwaves in time to ‘Twinkle-Toes’ Brucie’s dance moves. Maybe we could carry out a really important survey for once and determine the percentage of Better Together supporters versus Yes supporters that actually watch these programmes and their kindred spirits such as the Jeremy Kyle show or the Great British Bake Off. Put your left leg in for Yes and your right leg out for No. You could even start up a brand new reality show and call it the Great British Rip Off.
Talking about reality shows. I hear there’s yet another one in the pipeline. They’re gonny be getting Z list celebrities to carry out their own plastic surgery and call it ‘Scars in Your Eyes’…Awright Sorry.
Thinking about that old favourite – Stars in Your Eyes. Isn’t it amazing how once an idea takes hold, no matter how Perkin far fetched your conscious mind tells you it is. it just won’t go away. With me it’s the notion that somehow there’s some sort of brain altering contraption deep in the portals of 10 Downing Street, just like the contraption used in ‘Stars in Your Eyes’.
You know what I mean:-
Yesterday Matthew I was Margaret, simple grocer’s daughter from Grantham. Today Matthew I’m Thatcher, scourge of the working class…or
Yesterday Matthew I was Gordon, intelligent but slightly dull politician. Today Matthew I’m Brown, simpering fool on You Tube and betrayer of the Scottish People…or
Yesterday Matthew I was Tone, simpering fool. Today Matthew I’m Blair, obscenely wealthy war criminal…or
Yesterday Matthew I was David, just an ordinary, everyday Eton schoolboy. Today Matthew I’m Call Me Dave, sycophant to the right wing media..or
Yeterday Matthew I was Boris….Aaaaaaaaaargh!!
And that just leaves good old Lotto. The treasure chest that keeps on giving, if you believe the propaganda. Keeps on giving to Westminster coffers if you don’t
What about the fiasco the other week. Three numbers correct and you win a bumper £25. Four numbers, harder to predict, paid £15. No that canny be right or fair, I hear you say. Yeah that was my reaction when I heard. My wee elderly mammy was so so chuffed when she phoned to tell me she’d scooped four numbers. You can imagine how she felt when she went to pick up her ‘winnings’ and how Perkin pissed off I was when she told me.
Building. Past critical point and further into the red than my bank account.
So I waited for the justifiable outrage from the media, expecting the front page headlines – ‘Lottery giant fraudulently fleeces loyal customers’ or ‘No Lotto money for winners’ from the Sun. And I waited, and I waited and…then it dawned on me. Not the done thing to investigate a giant conglomerate for fraud. Oh no. Not when you’ve previously praised it to the rafters as a National Treasure that your own Scottish people would sorely miss if they had the temerity to want to decide things for themselves right
Then…Screech….That folks was the sound of my mental brakes being applied. You see I’d just sailed past a link to an old article from the Daily Wail, as you do if you’re a reasonably sane well balanced type, when something caught my eye. ‘ Lottery Giant Accused of Tax Evasion’ cried the headline’. And then I checked further on Google and more Perkin accusations appeared before my eyes.’Lottery giant blames human error on £1,500.000 jackpot shortfall’ and more and more.
The thing is, if Camelot had done the decent thing and used even a fraction of the loyal customers’ money,that they avoided paying tax on, to do the morally and ethically correct thing and raise the prize for four numbers to even £30 it would have saved them money in a relatively short time, as now they will face a horde of angry people resolved never to play the Perkin thing again.
That was it I’m afraid. Arrogance I can just about stomach. Incompetence Ditto. Put them together and you light the blue touchpaper. It’s like the story of the scorpion and the frog. “Why did you insist on ripping these poor but loyal customers off Camelot, even though you must know it’s going to cost you money in lost future revenue.” Because that’s just what we do”.
Kaboom. The volcano exploded and Mr Angry appeared as if out of nowhere.
And that about sums it up. I’m now like the Incredible Hulk. The next Better Together supporter who stares straight ahead, hacket face set in stone after I kindly pull over to let her go swanning by in the opposite direction is going to be the subject of Perkin Road Rage. The next time some shrieking interviewer persists on going on about Perkin Plan B is going to result in a brick threw the TV screen (save the cost of a levy to an organisation I detest with all of my being, I suppose).
One final point as I realise I’ve waffled on for too long. I am loath to say this but I strongly feel that if Ian Gray had done the right thing and talked to that protester instead of doing what his advisers advised was the correct thing and running a mile then chances are we might not have the Government we have. Nothing pisses off the Scottish people like signs of weakness.
So on Monday Alex, while I appreciate the desire to do the correct thing and be statesmanlike with the eyes of the world on you, please think about doing the right thing and tell the people how it really is. And do it with Perkin Strength and Perkin Passion.
Ebenezer Votnow was feeling smug. In his mind, he had every reason to be smug. It was the 19TH September 2014 and Ebenezer was a lifelong supporter of the Labour movement. Despite building a successful company that he had created from nothing since his arrival from Eastern Europe all those years ago. Ebenezer had always been loyal to the party of the masses. He was very proud of that fact. Ebenezer was also very, very proud of his children. His oldest son worked for one of the leading High Street Banks, His daughter was a Senior Charge Nurse in the NHS – the NHS, founded by his beloved Labour Party all those years ago. While he was very proud of both, it was the achievement of his youngest that brought a particularly warm glow to Ebenezer, Yes his youngest was just about to complete his Masters Degree at Oxford. Not bad for the son of an impoverished refugee from Eastern Europe was it. Less than six hours earlier he had returned from the Referendum Count and he was still giddy, still drunk from the celebrating that had followed the victory for his Better Together followers. The Union was safe. ‘God Bless The Queen’ he murmoured to himself. Now surely with the blight of separation vanquished his country would return to normal. 2015 would see Labour, his beloved Labour, returned to power at last and the promises made by his leader Ed would come to pass. Great Britain would become not only Great once more but Socially Just as well……..Good God he must have had too much too drink. He was feeling so tired now. Tired but still deliriously happy. But oh so tired
The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. The moaning and groaning that emanated from the wraith chiiled poor Ebenezer to the bone. He tried to run but found that his feet remained fastened to the ground as if stuck by glue. It wasn’t the sight of a wizened, shrivelled, death like figure pouring out words of gloom and despair that scared Ebenezer. God No. He was used to such sights having witnessed Jim Murphy and Alistair Darling close up. It wasn’t the shrieking and moaning emanating from the apparition either that filled him with fear. Not after being up close and personal to Johann Lamont and Margaret Curran in full saliva dribbling flow. He just couldn’t explain why the words “Oh Ebenezer what have you done”? should fill him with such icy dread.
The apparition was getting closer and Ebenezer could now just about discern some features.It was shrouded in a dirty grey garment, the type once worn by the criminals of Dickensian times A garment that concealed its face and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. A hand, seeking help from someone, anyone.
“Wow,” Ebenezer muttered to himself. Then with great difficulty uttered the words. “Explain yourself sir. What do you mean by what have I done?”
The Phantom suddenly stopped, still a good few yards from the stricken, paralyzed Ebenezer, Suddenly, with a flick of his fingers, he magically allowed a mammoth TV screen to appear as if from nowhere. With another flick, the screen came to life. An image of a newsreader appeared. “Good evening and welcome to BBC News” the figure intoned. “Tonight’s Headlines. Today our glorious Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced he was scrapping further development on the new Internal Security Agency he had initiated only six months earlier. The system based on the US Homeland Security model was widely perceived to develop as a rival to MI5 and MI6. No reason was given as to the reason for the cancellation but sources close to our beloved demagogue dismissed the persistent ill-founded rumours that the scrapping of the ‘ British Information Gathering And Security Service’ was due to the acronym being used to describe our glorious saviour”
“Wait a minute that can’t be right” cried a disbelieving Ebenezer.
“Yeah you’re spot on ” responded the figure. “Wrong time, wrong place. I can’t work out these newfangled gadgets at all.”
“No”, protested Ebenezer. “I mean Boris Johnson as Prime Minister. That wasn’t supposed to happen. We were assured, promised even, that Ed Miliband would be the Prime Minister if Scotland voted NO.”
“Oh he should have been” countered the figure. “Trouble was, the right wing press and TV channels just carried right on doing to the Labour Party what they’d been doing to the YES Scotland movement. Denied them the oxygen of publicity, ridiculed their leader at every opportunity, fed you repeated images of Labour failures and Tory successes. Pressed the fear button at every opportunity. Very effective it was too. Six months later the Conservative Government that the media were clamouring for won the day. Good God that shocked us up here in the Twilight Zone I can tell you – and you got Boris. Richly deserved if you ask me.
“But that’s just not fair”, bleated Ebenezer.
With a speed not seen since Gideon Osborne’s attempt to flee from Bernard Ponsonby, the wraith-like figure flew towards the hapless Ebenezer, pulling up short only feet from the cowering man. “Not fair, Not fair”, it bellowed. “So it was perfectly legitimate for your beloved Better Together to carry out these tactics but when the shoe was put on the other foot, you squealed like banshees. Gave us real banshees the pip so it did”.
With an effort, the Phantom forced itself to be calm. Taking a deep breath, it continued. “My God you mortals in B8 are so dumb and easily duped”, it sighed.
“B8?” Ebenezer questioned meekly
The apparition took a deep breath. “Yes B8″, it repeated. B is the country’s initial, so B for Britain, 8 is the position said nation holds in the Astral League Democracy Table for countries beginning with that initial. At the moment your country is tied for eighth place with Bahrain just behind Burkina Faso. Now if you’d kindly desist from interrupting me, we’d get through this lesson a lot quicker.”
With another snap of his fingers, the screen flickered briefly then came to life again. This time showing images of a mass demonstration in London’s Trafalgar Square. The voice of the earlier newsreader could be heard over the images. “Left wing activist and probable terrorist Christina Votnow became the first casualty of the crazed militant attempts to derail our esteemed Governments’ efforts to transform a crumbling, decaying NHS into a modern, state of the art, efficient, privately run organisation fit for purpose in the 21st century. The fanatic was accidentally struck in the head by a rubber bullet fired by one of our heroic foot soldiers in a legitimate attempt to hold back the bloodthirsty mob.”
“Noooooh”, Ebenezer cried out in despair. “That can’t be right. My lovely Christina is one of the sweetest, gentlest people you could meet. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s a nurse for God’s sake”.
For a brief moment, the Phantom’s body language seemed to soften in pity. “Oh Ebenezer, you poor deluded fool”, it sighed. “Don’t you realize yet that the kindest, loveliest people can be transformed by the sight of the willful destruction of something they hold dear. Your Christina saw what was happening to her beloved NHS. She put up with it and put up with it until she couldn’t put up with it any more. Then she, like so many others, decided to do the ‘right’ thing. What you see is the result”.
By this time Ebenezer was weeping silently, head in his hands.
Remorselessly though the Phantom carried on. This time, with a wave of his hand, the image on the screen faded to blackness, only to spring to life almost instantaneously. Ebenezer cringed inside as he heard the sombre voice of the same newsreader. He found himself, as if compelled by some sinister force to raise his eyes to the screen. This time the image was of a Union Jack bedecked coffin being reverently removed from the innards of a military transport aircraft to the accompanying air of ‘The Last Post’. This time it was a disembodied voice that intoned over the broadcast. “Today our beloved nation is united in sadness as another of our heroic servicemen embarks on his final journey. Today the body of Michael Votnow returns from the conflict in Syraq. Yet another brave soul who made the greatest sacrifice to save our peace loving country from the evils of tyranny….”
“Hah”, explained Ebenezer, relief flooding through him. “Now I know this is all nonsense. Michael is my youngest son. He’s just about to finish his degree at Oxford. He’s going to be a Research Scientist for God’s Sake. There’s no way on earth he’d join the Army. My God you almost had me fooled”.
The spirit said nothing, just looked at him sadly for a brief moment before nodding his head. Yet again the screen flickered, died then came to life. Once again the damned oily voice of that bloody newsreader could be heard. “Today, our beloved Prime Minister and Saviour, Boris Johnson provided the news so many people were praying for. From today forward, all able bodied men and women will be required by conscription, to carry out one years National Service. Mr Johnson also informed the nation that all conscripts will be paid the new adjusted minimum wage of £5 per hour for……”
“STOP PLEASE”, implored Ebenezer. “For the sake of my sanity, no more I beseech you”.
“Very Well”, the Phantom agreed and, with a snap of his fingers the dreaded TV vanished, much to Ebenezer’s profound relief.”I have just one more tale to tell.”
Ebenezer groaned aloud as the iciness that surrounded him grew even icier.
“It concerns your eldest, Stefan. I’m afraid”, the Ghost of Christmas Future continued in a voice filled with unbearable sadness. “For years Stefan did very well in his career at the bank. Very well indeed I have to say. That was until ‘Crash Two’ in 2017. At first your Stefan was one of the lucky ones. The bank relocated him to a Call Centre where he had to field call after call from furious customers, worried sick yet again about their savings and investments. Unfortunately though he was also targeted by his superiors to sell them Home and Life Insurance on each call. A case of trying to rip-off the ripped-off I’m afraid. Poor Stefan’s heart wasn’t in it. He tried his best but continually failed to reach his quota so he was unceremoniously given the heave-ho.”
“Oh No. Poor Stefan”, moaned Ebenezer. “But at least he’s still alive. Thank Goodness.”
The Ghost favoured him with an icy stare that, for some strange reason, reminded Ebenezer of the glares Gordon Brown used to give folk when they questioned his record as Chancellor and Prime Minister. He said nothing for a full minute then carried on. “For a short time, Stefan managed to keep himself and his wife and kids afloat until his savings ran out. Then he was forced to sign on for the new ‘Poverty Allowance’. He found himself being dragged from pillar to post, made to jump through so many hoops he felt like a circus performer. His allowance took so long to be processed that he was forced to beg for food for his wife and children at the Neighbourhood Food Bank…”
“But he could have come to me for help”, interrupted Ebenezer.
“Guess he was too proud or stubborn or both”, the apparition responded. “Anyway, to cut this long story short..Next he knew he was sanctioned for being five minutes late for his appointment with the ‘Governors’. Oh how he begged and pleaded until, in despair, he pushed the official in the chest. Sadly though, the man fell backward and smashed his head. Died instantly poor chap. Next thing you know Stefan is in court charged with murder. His name – Stefan Votenow didn’t help either. Oh how the media lapped that one up. ‘Illegal immigrant charged with the brutal murder of poor British man who was only doing his job. For the first time in nearly fifty years, the Scottish people witnessed the sight of the black cloth being placed on the judges head…”
“NO..”, Ebenezer cried “that can’t be right. The Scottish Government would never impose the death penalty. The Scottish People would never permit it. It would never get through the Scottish Parliament…It would…..”
“Hah”, scoffed the Ghost..”No they wouldn’t. Unfortunately though, they didn’t have a say. Under pressure from the media yet again, Westminster removed all agreed powers from Scotland. The restoration of the death penalty was the first law they passed following the reclamation. Then the fun really started. You had the Power Companies jostling with the Drug Companies all vying for Electric Chair or Lethal Injection. All rather unseemly I have to say. We even had one Drug Company offering a ‘Kill Ten Get One Free’ Package.
At this moment, the Ghost of Christmas Future took two steps toward the stricken Ebenezer. Then, with a flourish, he whipped away the dirty grey shroud, revealing a blackened face, engorged tongue protruding and the remnants of a fraying noose wrapped ever so tightly around the throat. “Yes Daddy, you’re right”, it sighed sadly. “As usual they chose the cheapest option”.
WHAT A RIDICULOUS FAR FETCHED PIECE OF NONSENSE. COULDN’T POSSIBLY HAPPEN IN A CIVILIZED MODERN SOCIETY??
CHECK THESE OUT
Where Has All The Decency Gone – With Apologies to Peter, Paul and Mary
Where have all the decent folk gone?
Long Time Passing
Where have all the Mandelas gone?
Silenced by the media every one
When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn
Where has all the common sense gone
Long time passing
Where has all the sincerity gone
From the NO campaign
Where has all the decency gone?
Drowned out by corruption
Greed and lies
When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn?
Where has the Labour Party gone
Long time passing
Where has the Party of the Working Man gone
To busy following the lies and spin
When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?
Where have all the Opinion Polls Gone?
Long Time Passing
Where have all these statements gone?
We used to get them every day
Where have all the arguments gone?
Torn to ribbons every one
Scotland has begun to learn. Scotland has begun to learn
Can’t believe I’ve missed this up until now. It is a video from the National Collective with a Theme for the Early Days of a Better Nation…
Close to home.
Thanks to Ysabelle Stewart I came across this cracker in my local area.
“BEGONIA I SAY” Said Labour spokesman.
Is it because they didn’t want anyone to see the ‘ROSE’ of empty seats
MY SWEET LORD (WITH APOLOGIES TO GEORGE HARRISON)
Here we go again. Same old story.
No I’m not talking about more establishment media (which is about 95% of media in UK) tripe which is designed specifically to ensure the readership are treated like stalks of rhubarb..(Kept in the dark and fed nothing but bullshit).
No this time it’s yet another apology from me. Sorry for not ‘blogging’ for so long. Two reasons really.
1. I decided I was only going to post regarding the referendum if I could find something different to say. Stuff that hadn’t been said already. You know – BBC are biased and could teach the ghost of Goebbels a thing or two about propaganda – Better Together are run by liars cheats and scoundrels supported by an establishment that is rank rotten to the core.
2. Sometimes as most people will know life gets in the way of good intentions.
Anyway I’m back as some Governor of California was prone to uttering before he discovered that ham acting was too much like hard work and politics was easier unless you were Boris ‘Water Cannon’ Johnston and could combine the two.
Anyway enough of the preamble. Now for something completely different. No it’s not Monty Python. It’s that other comedy legend Lord George Robertson.
It took me a while but I eventually discovered this gem from m’lud.
Honest…I was so full of emulsion – sorry emotion – after reading it that the tears were trickling down my thighs – sorry eyes -….and then I thought..hang on the bold lord has got a point here. Heaven help me from saying this but we have no right to call him names.
I am going to rectify this right this minute by writing him a big letter of apology.
Dear Your Lordship,
I never ever thought that I would agree with you but after reading your heart rending post in the Scottish Review, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that these nasty ‘Nat Type’ people have no damned right calling you nasty horrible names.
How did I come to this conclusion? Well I think first of all I should tell you Molly’s story.
Molly was one of the first people with a ‘Learning Disability’ I encountered just after completing my training in the field of Learning Disability Nursing or as they called it back in the dark ages of 1980, Mental Handicap Nursing.
Molly had been an ‘inmate’ or ‘patient’ at one of the old style Victorian ‘Poorhouse Like’ establishments, You know – the type your colleagues in Westminster will be re-introducing shortly.
Molly’s diagnosis? Moral Insanity. Yes, believe it or not, In 1981, Molly had been existing in this establishment for almost sixty years, simply due to becoming pregnant outside marriage.
“What are you wittering on about, you moron?” I hear you squawk.
Bear with me, your lordship. All will be revealed in due course, as your esteemed colleagues spouted regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction.
So where was I, Oh yes, our Molly…
You see, Your Lordship, Molly was so institutionalised after sixty years cooped up in her prison, she couldn’t think for herself.
Molly used to go to her bed at 5.30 pm every night after her evening meal because it had been instilled into her and her ‘ward-mates’ that they had to be put away before the Night Shift came on. Oh the trouble we had convincing Molly that she could decide when she went to her bed, she could decide what to do with her day, she could decide what to do with the rest of her life. We persevered though, we continued to show her the brave new world that awaited her, We battled against the powers that stated categorically that Molly was too indoctrinated into Institution style living to ever survive on her own. Some of the ‘old guard’ had genuine concerns for Molly but far too many manufactured these concerns because they didn’t want to lose the power and control they had been so used to exerting over other people.
Eventually though we won through. Molly prospered in her own little flat and spent the rest of her time on earth gloriously contented. We were right and they who said Molly was too wee. too stupid etc were proved wrong in convincing fashion.
Yes My Sweet Lord, I know the House Of Lords is a completely different Institution to the one in which wee Molly spent the vast majority of her adult life but it IS still an Institution and the ‘inmates’ are still conditioned into thinking in a prescribed way albeit in an ermine clad environment.
And that is why I will have no truck with these nasty ‘Cybernat’ type people who deride you at every turn and call you nasty names like ‘Scum’ and ‘Traitor’ and ‘ Turncoat’. I will have no truck with these befuddled folk who state you were promoted at least ten pay grades beyond your ability simply because you ‘kowtowed’ to the arms manufacturers and war mongers. (A bit like a ball-boy at a football club being promoted to star striker status and salary simply because he was always keen and willing to wash the Chairman’s Bentley.)
No sir I will have no truck with these deluded people at all. Forgive them Lord for they know what they do.
Mind you I’m intrigued by one of your statements m’lud…
“I am fortunate enough to have spent a good deal of my political career looking out at a fascinating world beyond Scotland’s borders. I have travelled a lot in the last six months, from the United States to Russia and a few points in between. Last Thursday, on behalf of the United Kingdom, I addressed the General Assembly of the United Nations.
Wherever I go, I am asked about the Scottish referendum. Universally and unanimously, people say they don’t want Britain to break up. Some will of course say it because they don’t want change and like the status quo. Others, the majority, see the break-up of Britain as being a profoundly destabilising move in a fragile and unstable world.”
Well sweet lord, if you travel from the USA to Russia – a distance of about one mile through Sarah Palin territory – then I guess in your exalted circles, the person you’re most likely to encounter is Sarah Palin, therefore I’m not surprised that universally and unanimously Sarah Palin agrees with you. Mind you Sarah Palin is another creature who’s career has flourished despite her, shall we say, rather limited intellect and reasoning powers. Still as they say ‘ Birds of a feather….etc etc.
Alas I digress. So your m’ludship, how can we prove these nutty nats wrong when they say you and your fellow Lord in waiting, Mr Darling, are not concerned with the welfare of your fellow Scots, only the continued gratification and personal power that ongoing membership of a corrupt and failed establishment brings?
It’s quite easy your peership. Like Molly, allow yourself to be led out of the dark, Gothic and crumbling institution and into the sunlight. Molly never regretted one minute of her new life and I’m sure you will enjoy the freedom that retirement in the sun will bring as well.
It’s only common sense isn’t it?
Ah there we have the problem. Common sense, as the name implies is only sense applied by the common people.
As a Peer of the Realm, you are exempt from all that ‘common’ sense nonsense.
I am truly sorry. Please forgive me.
I know I headed this Blog ‘justinfayresweeklyrant’ and I know it has been a lot longer than one week since I last posted. You can sue me under the Trades Description Act if you like.
Truth be told, I have been waking up each morning expecting to open my blinds to see masses of TV cameras and throngs of vultures (oops sorry ‘journalists’) camped outside my door barely able to hide their contempt that a YES Supporter had lied to the people of Scotlandshire.
Yes folks forget the brilliant posts, blogs and articles by the likes of Derek Bateman, William Duguid and of course our Wee Ginger Dug. Oh No we’ll just ignore them and concentrate on poor Justin who, due to starting a new job and starting a new house, didnae have one single moment to sit down and write.
Horrible, lying toerag that he is. Just another example of these horrible, lying toerags advocating the break up of our beloved Sceptered Isle. (Or should that be Septic Isle)
Anyway enough of this. Today I want to turn from Yes Scotland and the path to Independence.
Today I want to opine about the sport of Harness Racing.
Forgive me if I get a bit carried away here but Harness Racing in England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland is a wonderful, addictive, exciting sport, brimful of tremendous people who relish each others company. Harness Racing in each of these countries is like an equine version of stock car racing or speedway. A visit to the Festival Meetings at Musselburgh in Scotland, Tregaron in Wales or Appleby and York in England is a must. Visit once and you’ll be hooked for life.
Wait I hear you cry. We don’t have Harness Racing in this country. Eh excuse me. Yes we do. In fact I’m surprised the following scenario hasn’t been played out already.
ALEX SALMOND – “Right chaps everything’s on track for our events to celebrate the Glasgow Commonwealth Games, the 500th anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn, not to mention the Referendum. We just need one thing to tie it all together. We’ll have visitors from USA,Canada,Australia,New Zealand not to mention France and all over Europe. We just need one sporting event to tie everything together. Something that all our overseas cousins enjoy. Football’s out because the Yanks and Aussies play differently. Horse Racing can’t change their dates without the permission of Ladbrokes,Corals and William Hill. Anybody got any ideas?”
NICOLA STURGEON – “Well I know for a fact that they all like Harness Racing. It’s massive in these countries.”
ALEX SALMOND – “Oh that’s brilliant Nicola. Only problem is we don’t have Harness Racing in this country do we…Yes what is it Swinney?….What do you mean that your wife’s brother’s third cousin mentioned going to a Harness Racing Meeting here? Where was it held?…….What…. You can not be serious…Bannockburn…This is a joke. You people are pulling my leg right?….Right Mrs Joan McAlpine you’re not completely out of the Naughty Corner yet. Find out who’s been running the show…Tell them they’re a bunch of cretins for not letting us know…Then tell them you’ll give them Half a Million to put on a meeting for our guests,,not to mention me….OK Jump to it”.
Thirty Minutes later
JOAN McALPINE – “Sorry boss we’ve got a problem”
ALEX SALMOND – “God!! Why am I not surprised. Everything’s a problem with you. What is it this time.”
JOAN McALPINE – “Well I found out that believe it or not we do have Harness Racing in this country. It’s run though by an outfit called the BHRC. I spoke to their Chairman a Mr Gordon Gannett or something but they can’t help us as they’ve got a meeting in a village called Stanhope the same day.”
ALEX SALMOND – “I Don’t BELEEEEVE It. Nope on second thoughts I believe anything you do ….Oh well looks like it will have to be Beach Volleyball after all….Oh For God’s sake take the smile of your face McCaskill…
The BHRC or British Harness Racing Club is supposed to look after the interests of the diverse people who own, train, drive and care for the ponies. It should use the funds it collects from each and every member wisely. You would think then that it’s priority would be to promote the sport. To educate the general public who are unaware that such a brilliant sport exists. To advocate for grants, funds etc to at least try and improve conditions and also at least try and aim to bring the sport up to the multi million pound standards of the sport in USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand not to mention Continental Europe. To try and organise and support events to engage the general public.
Eh No. The current Chairman of the BHRC sees it as his role in life to use the funds made available to him to pretend that he is somehow a player on the world stage. To attend conferences to advise other countries on how to run their sport.
Jeez how they must enjoy being lectured by someone who can’t even look after his own members interests.
A small incompetent organisation still believing it has a role to play at the ‘Big Boys’ Table.
Meanwhile, while the maestro pursues his ego filled mission to continue being the ‘ Big Gun’, the glue that holds the organisation together, the admin staff at the BHRC Head Office in Goole, Humberside continue to bang their heads against the wall as they try manfully or should that be womanfully to carry out the mundane and thankless tasks of trying to keep the members informed and happy.
Although I never had the pleasure of meeting her, I am reliably informed by those that have. that until recently, a young lady who we’ll call Sara was the linchpin of the organisation. The gel if you like that binded the admin staff at the BHRC.
I say until recently because, although I am unaware of all sides to the shameful story, I am convinced that Sara was a victim of Constructive Dismissal.
So I hear you cry. What’s so special about poor Sara? Happens to people all the time. Especially in the ‘rip off’ society we live in.
Yep but Sara’s case is different. Unique in fact.
Despite Sara being universally respected and popular in the eyes of the vast majority of the licence holders in the Harness Racing Community, the Chairman of the BHRC has decided almost unilaterally that he is going to fight Sara tooth and nail. Not only is he going to fight Sara tooth and nail however, he is going to finance the legal and associated costs involved in this fight, which will run into countless thousands of pounds, using the funds provided by the legions of ordinary members, WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT AND DIRECTLY AGAINST THEIR WISHES.
A poll on the Harness Racing Members website following publishing of the details surrounding this travesty and calling for a vote of No Confidence in the BHRC elite was carried virtually unanimously. (http://trott.proboards.com/thread/689/bhrc-committee?page=1)
Despite this, at time of writing, the wishes of the vast majority are being ignored by a dictatorial figurehead pursuing a vendetta and continuing to utilise members funds to pursue a deeply unpopular mission.
It is breathtakingly scandalous and must be stopped.
So just to sum up – We have an Organisation pursuing a dogma that no one in the organisation supports. Using funds to promote an untenable position. Manfully persevering with an unpopular personal crusade rather than look after the interests of the people this Organisation is supposed to represent and protect. Deluding itself that it is a player on the World stage rather than the tiniest of minnows in a big pond.
Sounds a familiar story to me.
Seems Scotland isn’t alone in needing to make a fresh new start.