The Jocks are oot o’ the hoose and shouting across the wall at us again. Wee Jimmy Krankie is stood on her toybox, lobbing oatcakes and spilling her Irn Bru.
Pudding-faced lesbian gadgie Ruth Davidson – once thought of by gullible English Tories as being the future of the party – is picking a fight that she may have the guts for, but not the brains.
Gordon Brown – God love him – says that BoJo may be the last Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. That’s disappointing, because if the monocular mentalist says it, it’s almost certainly going to turn out wrong.
It is time to cut them loose.
Go your own way, Scotland. There are 10,000 English passports here for you, and 500,000 lottery tickets to win one.
I used to be a big fan of Scotland… not the sketchier places such as Dumfries and Dundee perhaps, but Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Inverness, the Caledonian Canal, the North-coast 500, the highlands and all that… very nice. Used to be hospitable and welcoming. Became quite openly hostile towards the English over the last 10-or-so years as the latent, ancient divisions were opened up by the independence movement, and latterly the Brexit movement.
Ireland freed itself from the English 100 years ago, doing away with the English imperial yoke, only to ultimately commit itself to EU servitude, giving up all semblance of political, financial and cultural independence in exchange for pocket money from Junker’s pot of gold. It seems like the Scots want to do the same. And who are we to deny them?
But first, let’s fuck with them a bit. Hold a referendum, collude with Google, Facebook, the media and the pollsters to make it seem like the union will win the vote by a landslide. Then when they vote for independence, explain to them that the vote was merely advisory, they didn’t know what sort of exit from the UK they were voting for and in any case demographic changes will have delegitimised this crude ‘point in time’ snapshot of public opinion by the time it is implemented.
Keep that up for 3 or more years, heaping unreasonable demands and irreconcilable preconditions upon intransigent negotiating tactics and regular taunts against the Scottish nation and its people.
Then rebuild Hadrian’s wall, preferably along a line between the Bristol Channel and The Wash, and let them go. Let them have their budget deficit, their high taxes, their deep-fried sense of perpetual grievance, their corrupt useless police, their cartels and organised crime, their drug problem, their shitty weather, their terrible food, comical football and their tartan man-skirts.
Perhaps Northern Ireland will decide to throw its lot in with them and form the Celtic Union of Northern Territories.
If Boris can pull that off, I’ll eat every word of doubt I’ve uttered about him.