A massive big fly just flew into eye of Project Fib.
The Spanish PM Mariano Rajoy has confirmed that Free Calbania's bum would be well and truly oot of the EU windae if I am able to get my lethargic minions to sleepwalk into a Yes vote next September.
Senor Rajoy has an issue with the Catalans separatist movement, not to mention the hornet's nest that is the Basque region. There's simply no way Madrid will allow the precedent of negotiating an exit from within the EU. Then there's Gibraltar, where relations between us and the Spanish have hit an all time low.
What am I to do, comrades?
Well the first thing I did was to move into Project Fib mode and run off a dodgy letter from one of my own SNP minions saying that we could get round all this and negotiate from within the EU. However, my enemies were onto that like a flash. Rajoy and the Spanish have a veto and will use it, plummeting my nascent Gaelic Nirvana into financial and political chaos.
If I don't find a way to cut this Gordian Knot then my Book of Fib could be heading straight for the landfill sites by Christmas, with my party joining them in obliteration next September.
Thursday, 28 November 2013
THE BOOK OF FIB: THE AFTERMATH
As the limousines sped away from Glasgow, I could tell that my team felt right pleased with themselves. Her Nippiness was exceptionally cheery, in fact, I think that's the first time I'd ever seem her smile.
She couldn't contain herself:
"Well boss, what do you think? Pure dead brilliant wasn't it?"
"You think so?" I replied, feeling a slight wobble coming on. "Well I'm not so sure. Get on the phone and get everyone into HQ for a debrief. Now."
As I strode into the room with my Nippy Wee Sweetie following loyally behind, I addressed the large team of Scottish tax payer funded civil servants responsible for writing The Book of Fib.
"Right, first the plaudits. Who wrote the Preface?" A scribe held his hand up. "Well you did well son. The phrases about 'working in partnership with the UK' , 'social ties between Scotland and the UK will continue to thrive' and 'work from within the EU' were brilliant. Excellent fibbing, especially considering I could be about to enter bitter divorce proceedings with my southern neighbour and we'd be lobbed out of the EU the minute independence is declared. Top Twaddle my friend. Have a biscuit."
"Right, page 74. Who increased the OBR forecasts for oil and gas receipts by 50% and reduced the predicted interest on our invented share of UK National Debt by £ 600m?"
"I did Boss. Big John told me to do it in one of his Masterchef finance classes." Claimed another publicly funded civil servant.
"And was it also you that came up with that excellent fib about an Energy Fund even though we'll be running a deficit and that one about the UK continuing to subsidise Scottish renewables after the divorce goes through?"
"Yes Boss." he replied.
"Brilliant brass neck. Top fibbing. Have a biscuit."
"Right. That's enough of the biscuits. Now for the lash. Which bloody idiot wrote this on page 85: 'Scotland will continue to use the £, providing continuity and certainty to individuals and businesses in Scotland and rUK.'?
I could feel a distinct wobble coming on. A minion was about to get it tight.
"It was me boss" cheeped a voice from the back.
The hairdryer was turned to full blast and I began to wobble like a giant jelly just sprung from its mould.
"Well you're a bloody idiot! Did I not explicitly tell the lot of youse that any mentions of certainty and guarantee had to be left out of the Book of Fib?!? How the bloody hell can I offer the Scottish people certainty when the very thing I am proposing is entirely based on the opposite - uncertainty. I have no guarantees, no certain facts and no certain outcomes. None whatsoever. We're completely contradicting ourselves here. Now get out of my sight!"
The humiliated public servant slipped out of the room.
"Right. Who's the fud that wrote page 111? C'moan. Own up!"
Another public servant's hand went up.
"It was me, boss" a stuttering voice squeaked back.
"Well you're getting your jotters as well pal. I mean, for the sake of Boaby Bruce. What's all this tosh about an independent Scotland being open to making different currency arrangements after I pound the Evil Osborne into submission on us keeping the £? You cannae say that!"
"But, Boss," came the whining response, "you said that we had to leave the door open for Robbie Marx and the nutters that want to create a sky high tax based Scottish Collective economy using the Skinto."
'Yes I did boy. But I didn't ask you to print it did I? The UK and the Bond Markets are going to feed on me like the cold hearted sharks they are. It'll be like a scene from bloody Jaws. Now get out."
Slowly, the rage began to pass.
"Right. That's it for now. Just for now mind. As for the rest of you. Well done. Disney couldnae have come up with a more fantastical storyline. "An Argos catalogue without the prices" they are calling it. Well, howlers aside, that's exactly what we wanted."
Carry on.
She couldn't contain herself:
"Well boss, what do you think? Pure dead brilliant wasn't it?"
"You think so?" I replied, feeling a slight wobble coming on. "Well I'm not so sure. Get on the phone and get everyone into HQ for a debrief. Now."
As I strode into the room with my Nippy Wee Sweetie following loyally behind, I addressed the large team of Scottish tax payer funded civil servants responsible for writing The Book of Fib.
"Right, first the plaudits. Who wrote the Preface?" A scribe held his hand up. "Well you did well son. The phrases about 'working in partnership with the UK' , 'social ties between Scotland and the UK will continue to thrive' and 'work from within the EU' were brilliant. Excellent fibbing, especially considering I could be about to enter bitter divorce proceedings with my southern neighbour and we'd be lobbed out of the EU the minute independence is declared. Top Twaddle my friend. Have a biscuit."
"Right, page 74. Who increased the OBR forecasts for oil and gas receipts by 50% and reduced the predicted interest on our invented share of UK National Debt by £ 600m?"
"I did Boss. Big John told me to do it in one of his Masterchef finance classes." Claimed another publicly funded civil servant.
"And was it also you that came up with that excellent fib about an Energy Fund even though we'll be running a deficit and that one about the UK continuing to subsidise Scottish renewables after the divorce goes through?"
"Yes Boss." he replied.
"Brilliant brass neck. Top fibbing. Have a biscuit."
"Right. That's enough of the biscuits. Now for the lash. Which bloody idiot wrote this on page 85: 'Scotland will continue to use the £, providing continuity and certainty to individuals and businesses in Scotland and rUK.'?
I could feel a distinct wobble coming on. A minion was about to get it tight.
"It was me boss" cheeped a voice from the back.
The hairdryer was turned to full blast and I began to wobble like a giant jelly just sprung from its mould.
"Well you're a bloody idiot! Did I not explicitly tell the lot of youse that any mentions of certainty and guarantee had to be left out of the Book of Fib?!? How the bloody hell can I offer the Scottish people certainty when the very thing I am proposing is entirely based on the opposite - uncertainty. I have no guarantees, no certain facts and no certain outcomes. None whatsoever. We're completely contradicting ourselves here. Now get out of my sight!"
The humiliated public servant slipped out of the room.
"Right. Who's the fud that wrote page 111? C'moan. Own up!"
Another public servant's hand went up.
"It was me, boss" a stuttering voice squeaked back.
"Well you're getting your jotters as well pal. I mean, for the sake of Boaby Bruce. What's all this tosh about an independent Scotland being open to making different currency arrangements after I pound the Evil Osborne into submission on us keeping the £? You cannae say that!"
"But, Boss," came the whining response, "you said that we had to leave the door open for Robbie Marx and the nutters that want to create a sky high tax based Scottish Collective economy using the Skinto."
'Yes I did boy. But I didn't ask you to print it did I? The UK and the Bond Markets are going to feed on me like the cold hearted sharks they are. It'll be like a scene from bloody Jaws. Now get out."
Slowly, the rage began to pass.
"Right. That's it for now. Just for now mind. As for the rest of you. Well done. Disney couldnae have come up with a more fantastical storyline. "An Argos catalogue without the prices" they are calling it. Well, howlers aside, that's exactly what we wanted."
Carry on.
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
ERR.............
What do I say about this???
The White Paper gives two methods by which Scotland's national debt might be calculated. First, Scotland could take its population share of the UK debt. This is based on the argument that all UK citizens have an equal stake in the debt and that Scotland should therefore be allocated a share of debt equivalent to its share of the population. Second, Scotland's liability could be based on its past record of fiscal deficits and surpluses. This amounts to arguing that Scotland should only be responsible for that part of the UK debt that relates to revenues and spending in Scotland. If you start the clock in 1980, when oil was about to come on stream, Scotland's debt is much lower than with the population method. Both arguments have merit, though one might question the choice of starting date in the second option. Having opened the argument, the White Paper does not come down either on one side or the other, arguing that the "Scottish Government will service the share of the debt allocated to Scotland". This is as close as it gets to acknowledging that the outcome will be a matter of negotiation and so cannot be definitively assigned before the independence vote. It is clear that the rest of the UK would press for the population share.
Another consideration is the precise ownership of the debt. The White Paper says that "the Scottish Government does not envisage that a proportion of UK debt would be legally transferred to Scotland on independence". If this were to happen, then the tricky issue of Scotland issuing its own debt is avoided. Scotland would cover its share of the costs of servicing the agreed level of debt at whatever rates of UK interest rates. The markets might add some risk premium to these rates for this rather unconventional mechanism, but they are still likely to be less than the borrowing costs that a newly independent Scotland would face both because it would present as a new and unknown risk to the markets and because the market for Scottish debt would be much smaller than that of the UK as a whole, which increases the average costs of trades.
The key issue that the White Paper does not cover is why the rest of the UK should agree to this arrangement. Would it not be less problematic for the rest of the UK to force Scotland to issue its own debt? A debt-sharing mechanism might be least disruptive in the capital markets, but creditors would need some reassurance that the commitment of one country to help pay another's debts is credible. There would clearly have to be very stringent legal agreements between both governments on the allocation of servicing costs. There is also the question of paying off debt. If the UK decides to reduce the overall value of its debt, will the agreement with the Scottish Government require it to meet its share of costs of debt reduction?
Yours in a modicum of panic
Bravebelly
The White Paper gives two methods by which Scotland's national debt might be calculated. First, Scotland could take its population share of the UK debt. This is based on the argument that all UK citizens have an equal stake in the debt and that Scotland should therefore be allocated a share of debt equivalent to its share of the population. Second, Scotland's liability could be based on its past record of fiscal deficits and surpluses. This amounts to arguing that Scotland should only be responsible for that part of the UK debt that relates to revenues and spending in Scotland. If you start the clock in 1980, when oil was about to come on stream, Scotland's debt is much lower than with the population method. Both arguments have merit, though one might question the choice of starting date in the second option. Having opened the argument, the White Paper does not come down either on one side or the other, arguing that the "Scottish Government will service the share of the debt allocated to Scotland". This is as close as it gets to acknowledging that the outcome will be a matter of negotiation and so cannot be definitively assigned before the independence vote. It is clear that the rest of the UK would press for the population share.
Another consideration is the precise ownership of the debt. The White Paper says that "the Scottish Government does not envisage that a proportion of UK debt would be legally transferred to Scotland on independence". If this were to happen, then the tricky issue of Scotland issuing its own debt is avoided. Scotland would cover its share of the costs of servicing the agreed level of debt at whatever rates of UK interest rates. The markets might add some risk premium to these rates for this rather unconventional mechanism, but they are still likely to be less than the borrowing costs that a newly independent Scotland would face both because it would present as a new and unknown risk to the markets and because the market for Scottish debt would be much smaller than that of the UK as a whole, which increases the average costs of trades.
The key issue that the White Paper does not cover is why the rest of the UK should agree to this arrangement. Would it not be less problematic for the rest of the UK to force Scotland to issue its own debt? A debt-sharing mechanism might be least disruptive in the capital markets, but creditors would need some reassurance that the commitment of one country to help pay another's debts is credible. There would clearly have to be very stringent legal agreements between both governments on the allocation of servicing costs. There is also the question of paying off debt. If the UK decides to reduce the overall value of its debt, will the agreement with the Scottish Government require it to meet its share of costs of debt reduction?
Yours in a modicum of panic
Bravebelly
THE BOOK OF FIB
Followers! Here it is! At last!
My soft, strong and very, very long White Paper.
Soft on facts, very, very strong on assertion and, well, plain old brass neck. No ifs, no maybes, no perhaps.
A Panglossian vision to inspire my nation forward towards victory and my consequent monocracy.
Here you will find the salves to all the economic facts and inconvenient truths thrown in front of our rickety Charanbanc for Freedom by the Westminster Junta and their educated, cosmopolitan and economically reasoned Naysayers.
So where to start? Which Spear of Separation shall I select first to slay the Westmonster dragon?
How about the currency issue?
Well, we'll be keeping the £ and the Evil Baron Osborne will be told, by me, in no uncertain terms, to underwrite all the debt of Free Calbania so we don't end up like Greece. No need for a Plan B. The UK will do as it's tell't. Trust me. It'll be fine.
How about the EU?
Again, we'll be telling Barroso and Merkel exactly how things will work. I know they've said we'll have to apply to join the EU afresh and then have all our budgets approved by them but I'll not be tolerating that. Oh no. Once I've slain the English dragon then I'll dispose of the European hydra as well. Don't they know who I am?
How about our £ 120bn share of the UK national debt and your plans to fund it?
Er, next question.
How about pensions?
Oh yes. We'll be telling the UK that we'll be keeping all of that and be using their staff, resources and infrastructure until such time as we see fit to do otherwise.
And will pensions be capable of being sustained at the same level as they would in the UK?
Yes
..........without a 28% VAT rate, a 61% hike in business rates and a minimum cut of 8% pa in public spending?
Er, no. Definitely not. But let's move on shall we. I haven't got all day you know.
What about all the defence jobs and shipbuilding in particular?
Look. I'm not really into all that war stuff so we'll have an Airfix Air Force and a navy that could fill up your bath tub. A few thousand soldiers will have to be laid off mind, and their bases shut, but the soldiers will be alright. I hear that Aldi, Lidl and Poundland are all looking for security staff. The same lay offs for Clydeside and Rosyth I'm afraid as the UK dockyards take on the work our two yards would otherwise have received from the warmongering English MOD. But, followers, this is a very small price to pay. Believe me.
What happens when the oil runs out in 2040?
Wind, renewables, kelp, peat........sod it. I don't have kids and I'll be long dead. There will be statues of me all over Scotland by then so, frankly, who cares?
What about the £ 14bn budget deficit predicted in your own GERS Report and the £ 5.9bn shortfall in tax revenues the Institute of Fiscal Studies predict you will incur by coming out of the UK?
Well, what's £ 14bn pa between friends. I'll just borrow the money against your children's futures. As a diminished economic entity I know I'll be paying twice the current rate of the G7 UK for that money but let's leave that one for your bairns and grand bairns to sort out shall we?
...........and the £ 5.9bn?
Next question!
What about the fact that spending on higher education in Scotland will have to be cut or, if it is to be maintained at current UK levels, then the money would have to be raised from higher taxes and a minimum 8% cut in public spending?
You miss the point. It's all about faith. In me.
The costs of duplicating a tax system, welfare system, diplomatic corps, embassies, a central bank and border security?
Billions of £/Euros/Skintos well spent my friend.
Why don't you implement your Childcare policy right now? You have the power to do so?
Because Her Nippiness Princess Nicola can't stomach the prospect of those incremental working women paying the tax from their new wages into the UK Treasury.
And what about the the fact that an independent Scotland couldn't hope to underwrite either of it's two big banks and so the Scottish banks will therefore move to London and UK regulation?
Look. That's enough of this search for certainty, facts and an equal standard of living to the one we enjoy within the UK. Life's a gamble. We'll be happier even although we'll be poorer. Economic prosperity isn't everything you know. As a teeny, weeny debt laden nation we'll be free to swim with minnows like Iceland, Ireland and Greece. A wee voice at a bigger table. We, the introspective, presumptuous and divisive will finally have had our day. Just enjoy the moment!
However, my tartan heroes, let me leave you with the most important point in all of this.
I, yes, I will be in Power! Unassailable, unquestioned and untrammeled power. A bit like my wee mate in Pyongyang - but not quite as obvious - except to those who disagree with me.
Just think of the trips abroad; the embassies; the state occasions in Edinburgh and Stirling castles; the entourage; the statues. Oh, William Wallace. Eat your heart out. I, Bravebelly, will speak for Scotland and unlike you my mediaeval expedient, become it's unquestioned leader!
Now, my fellow Bravehearts, let's await the inevitable surge in the You Gov polls whilst I turn my soaring intellect, and no little sum of taxpayers money, to the small matter of my coronation ceremony next September.
Forward!
THE DIVORCE PAPERS
Dear UK,
I know it's been 300 years that you and I have been together and during that time we have shared both good times and bad. The industrial revolution, an enriching and, at times, embarrassing empire, a world class education system, shared values, seamless trading relations and, of course, the great sacrifices made by us both in the two world wars.
However, I, Bravebelly, have decided that your time is up.
UK..............I'm leaving you.
Who and what for you may ask?
Well, that's complicated.
I mean, it's not as if my new love is rich or offers me a better life. Quite the reverse actually. Times for my new love and I will be hard. Very hard. But we love each other and that's the main thing.
Now, I know this all might be a bit of a shock but I have made all the arrangements. I just need you to sign off on a few things and I'll be on my way.
Firstly, you will support me with your currency and banking guarantees so that the big, bad bond markets will lend me and my true love enough money for our new life together.
Second, you'll let me off my considerable share of the financial mess that we got into when my two Scottish banks went pop and you had to dip into your extensive wealth to bail me out. What's £ 120bn to you, a G7 economy?
Thirdly, think of the kids. I know the vast majority of them want to us to stay married but they just don't understand me and my needs. As you know, I've got my schools, universities, hospitals, shipyards, financial institutions, nationally registered and regulated plumbers, electricians, food companies and many, many more dependents that will need you to continue to spend your money with them and keep your current regulation and trading arrangements in place.
Now, that might be awkward because I can't begin to support these needy dependents on my own, as those busy bodies at the Institute of Fiscal Studies pointed out last week. Don't make them suffer because of my beautiful love affair and vaulting ambitions.
Please bear with me UK. I will be telling anyone that will listen that I want nothing more to do with you and that I can support myself without any help from you, my loyal and generous partner. But I can't. You know I can't and, sadly so do I.
So please, please, do me a big, big favour UK, and just ignore all that stuff and keep me and my reluctant dependents afloat. Let me share £s in your bank account, underwrite my debt, my economic deficit and the pensions I can't afford. Don't make me impose a VAT rate of 28%; don't force me to cut public spending by 8% per annum and don't give me no option but to increase income tax by 9%. Don't make me do these things. After all, my dearest, it's all in my very best interests and I'll only blame you for the ensuing hardship if you don't agree to my demands.
Now, trusted and loyal partner, I suppose you are wondering who it is that has captured my brave heart. Who is it that has broken our family and destroyed the harmony that has existed between us for so many years?
Well, my soon to be ex.
It's me.
I have fallen head over heels in love with myself. Totally, utterly and blindly.
Yours from Narcissus
Bravebelly
PS This pool looks very inviting. I think I'll ponder it awhile.
I know it's been 300 years that you and I have been together and during that time we have shared both good times and bad. The industrial revolution, an enriching and, at times, embarrassing empire, a world class education system, shared values, seamless trading relations and, of course, the great sacrifices made by us both in the two world wars.
However, I, Bravebelly, have decided that your time is up.
UK..............I'm leaving you.
Who and what for you may ask?
Well, that's complicated.
I mean, it's not as if my new love is rich or offers me a better life. Quite the reverse actually. Times for my new love and I will be hard. Very hard. But we love each other and that's the main thing.
Now, I know this all might be a bit of a shock but I have made all the arrangements. I just need you to sign off on a few things and I'll be on my way.
Firstly, you will support me with your currency and banking guarantees so that the big, bad bond markets will lend me and my true love enough money for our new life together.
Second, you'll let me off my considerable share of the financial mess that we got into when my two Scottish banks went pop and you had to dip into your extensive wealth to bail me out. What's £ 120bn to you, a G7 economy?
Thirdly, think of the kids. I know the vast majority of them want to us to stay married but they just don't understand me and my needs. As you know, I've got my schools, universities, hospitals, shipyards, financial institutions, nationally registered and regulated plumbers, electricians, food companies and many, many more dependents that will need you to continue to spend your money with them and keep your current regulation and trading arrangements in place.
Now, that might be awkward because I can't begin to support these needy dependents on my own, as those busy bodies at the Institute of Fiscal Studies pointed out last week. Don't make them suffer because of my beautiful love affair and vaulting ambitions.
Please bear with me UK. I will be telling anyone that will listen that I want nothing more to do with you and that I can support myself without any help from you, my loyal and generous partner. But I can't. You know I can't and, sadly so do I.
So please, please, do me a big, big favour UK, and just ignore all that stuff and keep me and my reluctant dependents afloat. Let me share £s in your bank account, underwrite my debt, my economic deficit and the pensions I can't afford. Don't make me impose a VAT rate of 28%; don't force me to cut public spending by 8% per annum and don't give me no option but to increase income tax by 9%. Don't make me do these things. After all, my dearest, it's all in my very best interests and I'll only blame you for the ensuing hardship if you don't agree to my demands.
Now, trusted and loyal partner, I suppose you are wondering who it is that has captured my brave heart. Who is it that has broken our family and destroyed the harmony that has existed between us for so many years?
Well, my soon to be ex.
It's me.
I have fallen head over heels in love with myself. Totally, utterly and blindly.
Yours from Narcissus
Bravebelly
PS This pool looks very inviting. I think I'll ponder it awhile.
Sunday, 24 November 2013
SILENCE OF THE LAMBS
Only two sleeps to go comrades. Two sleeps until I splurge your hard earned taxes on launching my White Paper at expensive roadshows around Scotland. Two sleeps until I spend even more of your taxes on ensuring the SNP sends out the 670 page document to every household that wants it.
If I'd been even handed then I'd have ensured that last week's IFS Report was made available on the same basis but playing fair is for softies and, anyway, it's not my fault that Better Together haven't got two beans to rub together. Ha! If they could only see the £ 6m of donations and taxpayers money that I have ready to unleash when the campaigning begins. We'll see what happens to the polls then comrades.
Sure, there'll be cries of foul play. Moving taxpayers money from Scottish Water to my "strategic communications" fund; spending the budget on "Homecoming" in Scotland as opposed to on foreign tourists in the US and Canada; all the time blurring the division between our role as the Scottish Government and the fanatical Yes Campaign.
Such matters do not concern me. The end justify the means. Don't you agree?
As I sit here in Castle Stuart golf club, having my e mails read to me by a trusty underling and dictating replies to said scribe, one thing does bother me. As you know, politicians are generally mistrusted by people. They sit alongside bankers and estate agents as the most loathed professions. Self serving, sly and duplicitous are merely three adjectives that the average Jock would apply to this unholy trinity. Personally I get the estate agent bit but I'm at a loss with the others. Fred Goodwin was a good mate of mine and I still recall that note I sent him encouraging him to pay all that money for ABN Amro. Anyway, I digress.
The point of my sermon, dear plebs, is that the most trusted professions are doctors, academics and business people. I was genuinely rattled by the 2,000 Scottish academics standing up to voice their opposition to my proposed Tartan Nirvana by forming Academics Better Together. The cybernats launched a suitably poisonous volley of e mail abuse at said academics and my minister Senga McRubbish threatened one of their leaders but still they stand against me. Just because their budgets will be cut if I win absolute power. How churlish.
So what of the doctors and the business fraternity? So far so good. Silence on both fronts. I'm told the business people don't take me seriously and assume I will lose this vote. Excellent. That plays right into my hands as the underestimated underdog.
They have never pointed out that the Scottish financial services sector will move to London en masse if I win in 2014. They have never bleated about the 61% hike in business rates that Big John has got lined up in the budget; nor the necessary new taxes I will impose on the oil companies, on VAT and higher rate income. They have yet to bleat about the fact that cross border trade with England will become far more difficult; that breaking commonly held UK regulations and governance will exclude Scottish companies from working with UK companies who are legally bound to award work to UK and/or EU affiliated suppliers. Nothing about the fact that many of the UK's 55m consumers will regard Scotland as a departed, antagonistic and ungrateful divorcee and therefore take their trade to UK based brands and suppliers - just as will happen with shipbuilding. No more UK contracts awarded to yards in Free Calbania results in a massive boost for rUK shipyards that would otherwise have lost out on orders to a UK Clydeside or Rosyth. So it will be with business. Not that I care. Power is more important than this mere inconvenience.
"Let them pay tax!". As Her Nippiness Princess Nicola would say.
The silence of these business based lambs to the slaughter is playing into my hands beautifully comrades.
If I'd been even handed then I'd have ensured that last week's IFS Report was made available on the same basis but playing fair is for softies and, anyway, it's not my fault that Better Together haven't got two beans to rub together. Ha! If they could only see the £ 6m of donations and taxpayers money that I have ready to unleash when the campaigning begins. We'll see what happens to the polls then comrades.
Sure, there'll be cries of foul play. Moving taxpayers money from Scottish Water to my "strategic communications" fund; spending the budget on "Homecoming" in Scotland as opposed to on foreign tourists in the US and Canada; all the time blurring the division between our role as the Scottish Government and the fanatical Yes Campaign.
Such matters do not concern me. The end justify the means. Don't you agree?
As I sit here in Castle Stuart golf club, having my e mails read to me by a trusty underling and dictating replies to said scribe, one thing does bother me. As you know, politicians are generally mistrusted by people. They sit alongside bankers and estate agents as the most loathed professions. Self serving, sly and duplicitous are merely three adjectives that the average Jock would apply to this unholy trinity. Personally I get the estate agent bit but I'm at a loss with the others. Fred Goodwin was a good mate of mine and I still recall that note I sent him encouraging him to pay all that money for ABN Amro. Anyway, I digress.
The point of my sermon, dear plebs, is that the most trusted professions are doctors, academics and business people. I was genuinely rattled by the 2,000 Scottish academics standing up to voice their opposition to my proposed Tartan Nirvana by forming Academics Better Together. The cybernats launched a suitably poisonous volley of e mail abuse at said academics and my minister Senga McRubbish threatened one of their leaders but still they stand against me. Just because their budgets will be cut if I win absolute power. How churlish.
So what of the doctors and the business fraternity? So far so good. Silence on both fronts. I'm told the business people don't take me seriously and assume I will lose this vote. Excellent. That plays right into my hands as the underestimated underdog.
They have never pointed out that the Scottish financial services sector will move to London en masse if I win in 2014. They have never bleated about the 61% hike in business rates that Big John has got lined up in the budget; nor the necessary new taxes I will impose on the oil companies, on VAT and higher rate income. They have yet to bleat about the fact that cross border trade with England will become far more difficult; that breaking commonly held UK regulations and governance will exclude Scottish companies from working with UK companies who are legally bound to award work to UK and/or EU affiliated suppliers. Nothing about the fact that many of the UK's 55m consumers will regard Scotland as a departed, antagonistic and ungrateful divorcee and therefore take their trade to UK based brands and suppliers - just as will happen with shipbuilding. No more UK contracts awarded to yards in Free Calbania results in a massive boost for rUK shipyards that would otherwise have lost out on orders to a UK Clydeside or Rosyth. So it will be with business. Not that I care. Power is more important than this mere inconvenience.
"Let them pay tax!". As Her Nippiness Princess Nicola would say.
The silence of these business based lambs to the slaughter is playing into my hands beautifully comrades.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
FALKIRK 1298
Remember when we got gubbed 5 - 1 by England at Wembley in 1975?
Well, my tartan epsilons, that's what I've had to endure over the last 24 hours.
Despite my explicit order to my Head of Wasteland Security to silence those pesky economists at the Institute of Fiscal Studies, we at Project Fib, have just taken a right good hiding.
The IFS have projected three forecasts for my monocratic Scottish Nirvana and even in the best of these scenarios I'll have to increase VAT to 28% or cut public spending by 8% per annum. My deficit will be around £ 10m pa and the interest on my borrowing for my share of the UK national debt will be completely unfeasible unless I hand over all the tax revenue from the dwindling supplies of North Sea Oil. What an indyshambles.
It got worse my friends. Today I had to join my financial Masterchef Big John Swindly in Dundee to present our riposte. It was to be our Bach-like manipulation of the levers and pedals of the Free Calbanian economy.
Now, ordinarily, when it comes to financial projections Big John is analogous to Gordon Rangers in his culinary skills and so, as I sat in the back of my limousine on the way to Dundee, I was looking forward to something really tasty, something spectacular. Oil revenues escalating to 2150 perhaps; corporation tax at the same rate as my permanently recessioned Celtic brothers in Ireland; a guaranteed index linked pension for Scots who have worked all their years and simply look to an affordable retirement.
And what did I get?
I got a load of twaddle about how we'd have been £ 900 per person better off if we'd been independent in 1997. Well for Willie Wallace's sake Johnny, if Ian St John had been playing up front with Denis Law and Bill Shankly had been managing the team then we wouldn't have got hammered at Wembley in 1975. Any daftie can play that game! I wanted a vision not a backward looking moanfest! That just sounds like sour grapes. The past is over! That oil has gone! I needed a get out. Anything to take the voters' minds off the huge economic price they will have to pay to ensure my personal legacy as the successor to Robert Bruce and William Wallace. Bravebelly, the new Liberator of Scotland.
Well. It didn't happen. We got done good and proper and here I am staring at economic defeat. My financial inadequacies laid bare and my plans in tatters.
Sure, I can always rely on you, my loyal, unquestioning followers. But how do I convince the massive majority of Scots who'd happily see the SNP consigned to political obsolescence?
It has to be the White Paper.
I have to get that right.
Well, my tartan epsilons, that's what I've had to endure over the last 24 hours.
Despite my explicit order to my Head of Wasteland Security to silence those pesky economists at the Institute of Fiscal Studies, we at Project Fib, have just taken a right good hiding.
The IFS have projected three forecasts for my monocratic Scottish Nirvana and even in the best of these scenarios I'll have to increase VAT to 28% or cut public spending by 8% per annum. My deficit will be around £ 10m pa and the interest on my borrowing for my share of the UK national debt will be completely unfeasible unless I hand over all the tax revenue from the dwindling supplies of North Sea Oil. What an indyshambles.
It got worse my friends. Today I had to join my financial Masterchef Big John Swindly in Dundee to present our riposte. It was to be our Bach-like manipulation of the levers and pedals of the Free Calbanian economy.
Now, ordinarily, when it comes to financial projections Big John is analogous to Gordon Rangers in his culinary skills and so, as I sat in the back of my limousine on the way to Dundee, I was looking forward to something really tasty, something spectacular. Oil revenues escalating to 2150 perhaps; corporation tax at the same rate as my permanently recessioned Celtic brothers in Ireland; a guaranteed index linked pension for Scots who have worked all their years and simply look to an affordable retirement.
And what did I get?
I got a load of twaddle about how we'd have been £ 900 per person better off if we'd been independent in 1997. Well for Willie Wallace's sake Johnny, if Ian St John had been playing up front with Denis Law and Bill Shankly had been managing the team then we wouldn't have got hammered at Wembley in 1975. Any daftie can play that game! I wanted a vision not a backward looking moanfest! That just sounds like sour grapes. The past is over! That oil has gone! I needed a get out. Anything to take the voters' minds off the huge economic price they will have to pay to ensure my personal legacy as the successor to Robert Bruce and William Wallace. Bravebelly, the new Liberator of Scotland.
Well. It didn't happen. We got done good and proper and here I am staring at economic defeat. My financial inadequacies laid bare and my plans in tatters.
Sure, I can always rely on you, my loyal, unquestioning followers. But how do I convince the massive majority of Scots who'd happily see the SNP consigned to political obsolescence?
It has to be the White Paper.
I have to get that right.
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
THE LUNATIC FRINGE WAGS THE UNDERDOG
Good Evening Minions.
I was sitting in my extensive drawing room in Bute House last night admiring the recent addition of the beautifully painted frog faced chubby cherubs on my ornate ceiling when a rare moment of amour propre was rudely interrupted by my Head of Wasteland Security Joan McAggro. The door nearly flew off the hinges as she stormed into the room.
"Boss, boss, its the pointy heads! They've gone and formed a group called Academics Together and they're dead set against independence." she cried. " They say that in our Free Calbania Scottish institutions could no longer apply for hundreds of millions of UK funding for scientific and medical research that Scottish universities currently receive 13.1 per cent of UK Research Council funding compared to a population share of only 8.4 per cent. We can't stand for this."
"Indeed not my Dear Joan, indeed not." I sighed. "Nor can we match the current UK funding for Scottish universities, but that's a whole different matter."
"Boss." blurts out McAggro. "The party have already organised for Senga McRubbish and that Fife Berserker Nat Wee Davy McRabid to decry these 'supposed Scots'."
"OK Joan. OK. But that just means the press will demand a condemnation of any threats or intimidation by the SNP and our associated loons. Just as they did when they ran Farage out of town. Now that's a problem, because I cannot be seen to criticise my Berserker Nats. I'll have to do my usual and dance around the questions like one of these saft celebs on Strictly Come Dancing."
"So. Boss. What do you want me to do?" came the question.
"Leave it with me." I sighed "That manchild Angus Harmless and the recommendation for our Airfix Defence Force have just blown my option of reducing the £ 2.5bn defence budget to an Irish level of £750m so I'm all out of cash to shut up the Teflon heads. I need time to work on this White Paper. Bloody Hell Joan, all these demands for money to match the status quo and so little of it to hand out when we win this New War of Scottish Independence. I'll be honest Joan, there are times when I wonder why we are bothering. Things are so much easier as they currently stand."
Thursday, 7 November 2013
PORTALS OF DISCOVERY
Ahoy My Fellow Bravehearts
The inevitable cuts in UK defence spending at Portsmouth and Clydeside have brought more furrows to my proud but troubled brow. These were compounded when my champion for Project Fib announced to the Westminster Pravda that Free Calbania "would want some of these Type 26 frigates. We would want to see sensible joint procurement."
Bloody hell. These ruddy things are £ 350m a pop and with the prospect of cutting Free Calbania's defence budget from £ 2.5bn pa to an Irish equivalent of £ 750m pa then she's just about blown the entire budget.
Time to calm things down I thought. Time to take some time out from the bitter battle for separation that I have so skillfully instigated.
I decided to invite Princess Nicola and Defence Secretary Angus Harmless on to the Royal Yacht Britannia for a spot of dinner and a wee sail up the Forth.
Harmless was first aboard my floating Wolfsschanze with Comrade Nicola in close attendance.
"Wow! Check this out." he gushed.
Harmless was brought up down south and has all the eagerness of a 14 year old in a toy shop. However, he has a corresponding capacity to grate.
Once he'd finished taking selfies of himself and a torn faced Comrade Nicola, I ushered them into my dining room for a pre dinner drink.
Eager to waste none of my precious time on smalltalk I came straight to the point.
"Right, Harmless. I want you to draft up a Defence budget of £ 750m as opposed to the £ 2.5bn we currently spend through the Barnett formula."
He lurched forward and spluttered into his champagne sending a sea of froth into the air and up his nose. I could see the tears welling up in Princess Nicola's eyes.
"But Boss, we can't do that. What about the redundancies? What about the soldiers and planes and guns and boats and bases and, and, and .........." he wailed.
I cut him short: "Shut it Harmless. We can't afford it. End of story."
"And what about the Type 26 frigates?" asked Comrade Nicola.
"Well we certainly can't afford them. That's for bloody sure. And anyway, what the bloody hell would Free Calbania want with warships?" I shot back, ensuring she saw just how irked I was about last night's commitment to spend the whole defence budget on warships we'd never use.
"But Boss," continued Harmless. "What are we going to do about defence?"
"Good question boy." I replied, warming to the subject. "First off I want you to set aside £ 50m for the SPG."
"The SPG?" chimed the gormless duo.
"Yes. My Scottish Praetorian Guard. I want 500 of the toughest looking soldiers you can find and swear them in as my personal protection force."
I glowered at the gawping duo and saw their chins drop to the floor in unison. Is that what agog looks like I thought to myself?
"Then I want you to budget for a split new Boeing 777 Dreamliner which is to be called Air Force Alba. Next, and here's the big one, budget for the purchase and refit of this royal yacht. I'll need to get up and down to those troublesome, oil greedy Shetlanders now and again and so I might as well travel up to the God forsaken place in style. And besides, it will also keep the shipyards open for a wee while longer because there is absolutely no way rUK will be giving Clydeside or Rosyth any work if we win in 2014. "
"Wow" mumbled Harmless "I like that one. That's really good."
"Yes boy." I exclaimed, wiping a tear from my eye. "It is. And that's why I'm the greatest politician of my generation. Now, let's eat. We've got cooked goose on the menu tonight."
The inevitable cuts in UK defence spending at Portsmouth and Clydeside have brought more furrows to my proud but troubled brow. These were compounded when my champion for Project Fib announced to the Westminster Pravda that Free Calbania "would want some of these Type 26 frigates. We would want to see sensible joint procurement."
Bloody hell. These ruddy things are £ 350m a pop and with the prospect of cutting Free Calbania's defence budget from £ 2.5bn pa to an Irish equivalent of £ 750m pa then she's just about blown the entire budget.
Time to calm things down I thought. Time to take some time out from the bitter battle for separation that I have so skillfully instigated.
I decided to invite Princess Nicola and Defence Secretary Angus Harmless on to the Royal Yacht Britannia for a spot of dinner and a wee sail up the Forth.
Harmless was first aboard my floating Wolfsschanze with Comrade Nicola in close attendance.
"Wow! Check this out." he gushed.
Harmless was brought up down south and has all the eagerness of a 14 year old in a toy shop. However, he has a corresponding capacity to grate.
Once he'd finished taking selfies of himself and a torn faced Comrade Nicola, I ushered them into my dining room for a pre dinner drink.
Eager to waste none of my precious time on smalltalk I came straight to the point.
"Right, Harmless. I want you to draft up a Defence budget of £ 750m as opposed to the £ 2.5bn we currently spend through the Barnett formula."
He lurched forward and spluttered into his champagne sending a sea of froth into the air and up his nose. I could see the tears welling up in Princess Nicola's eyes.
"But Boss, we can't do that. What about the redundancies? What about the soldiers and planes and guns and boats and bases and, and, and .........." he wailed.
I cut him short: "Shut it Harmless. We can't afford it. End of story."
"And what about the Type 26 frigates?" asked Comrade Nicola.
"Well we certainly can't afford them. That's for bloody sure. And anyway, what the bloody hell would Free Calbania want with warships?" I shot back, ensuring she saw just how irked I was about last night's commitment to spend the whole defence budget on warships we'd never use.
"But Boss," continued Harmless. "What are we going to do about defence?"
"Good question boy." I replied, warming to the subject. "First off I want you to set aside £ 50m for the SPG."
"The SPG?" chimed the gormless duo.
"Yes. My Scottish Praetorian Guard. I want 500 of the toughest looking soldiers you can find and swear them in as my personal protection force."
I glowered at the gawping duo and saw their chins drop to the floor in unison. Is that what agog looks like I thought to myself?
"Then I want you to budget for a split new Boeing 777 Dreamliner which is to be called Air Force Alba. Next, and here's the big one, budget for the purchase and refit of this royal yacht. I'll need to get up and down to those troublesome, oil greedy Shetlanders now and again and so I might as well travel up to the God forsaken place in style. And besides, it will also keep the shipyards open for a wee while longer because there is absolutely no way rUK will be giving Clydeside or Rosyth any work if we win in 2014. "
"Wow" mumbled Harmless "I like that one. That's really good."
"Yes boy." I exclaimed, wiping a tear from my eye. "It is. And that's why I'm the greatest politician of my generation. Now, let's eat. We've got cooked goose on the menu tonight."
Friday, 1 November 2013
SNP BANNED LIST Ongoing
Memo to
Joan McAggro
Head of Wasteland Security
SNP HQ
Dear Joan
Please ensure that this transcript never sees the light of day in our "Cold Water Cuba".
DOUBTING JOCK
Sleep has been a stranger to me this week fellow heroes.
First the double whammy of the CPPR and the IFS exposing the £ billions of shortfall in Free Calbania's tax revenues. Then someone suggesting that we'd have to cut our annual defence spending from £ 2.5bn to £ 750k to help plug the gap - now that would go down like a rat sandwich with all my friends in the Scottish Armed Forces and cost me thousands of votes from working Scots.
Finally, another pointy head claims that the EU will impose security measures on my New Mediaeval Nirvana such that every poor sod who crosses the border to and from rUK will have to show a passport.
It's times like this that I once again remember Robert the Bruce in his cave watching the spider repeatedly trying to gain a foothold on the wall.
Well sod the bloody spider. I'll just phone Big John and shift £ 800k out of Scottish Water and into "strategic communications". That should help persuade the 75% of feckless unbelievers that economic recovery is of no importance compared to the chance of allowing the SNP to rule a Free Caledonia for millenia to come.
Just as that little shaft of light flashed across my peerless brain the phone rang.
It was Blind Jock, my good mate from Aberdeenshire.
"Hello Jock." I answered "Are you on to offer a couple of tips on the gee gees? "
"Well no Boss, not exactly"
I didn't like the rather serious tone from my otherwise cheery mate.
"It's just that myself and a few of the boys here in Aberdeenshire are a wee bitty worried about your chances next September." he sheepishly proffered.
"Dinna fash yersel' Jock" I replied in my best fake Doric.
"You see Boss." he continued " You lost 5,000 votes in the Aberdeen Donside by election and then there was a 3,000 vote swing in the by election loss at Dunfermline last week. The bookies are now offering odds on you winning a Yes vote of 5/1 against whilst a No vote is offered at 1/7 on - that's a racing cert! The bookies are also offering the lowest odds (4/9) on a turnout of more than 64% which is at least 14% higher than the 2011 Election and the highest turnout in a Scottish Parliamentary Election since 1999. So much for the undecided vote!"
"I mean, Boss, could it be that 2011 was simply a protest vote by canny Scots voters who saw a Tory Govt looming and a Labour Party in disarray? Could it be that they weren't remotely interested in your mandate for a referendum but simply wanted a form of Devo Max which is no longer on offer in this referendum?
"Boss.........are we doomed?"
"Now calm down Jock." I soothed "I am the finest politician of my generation and I'll sort this out. The White Paper is out at the end of the month and all the questions will be answered. Let's see what the bookies are saying after that shall we?"
It was the best I could do. Even I know that you don't beat the bookies. Not at those odds.
First the double whammy of the CPPR and the IFS exposing the £ billions of shortfall in Free Calbania's tax revenues. Then someone suggesting that we'd have to cut our annual defence spending from £ 2.5bn to £ 750k to help plug the gap - now that would go down like a rat sandwich with all my friends in the Scottish Armed Forces and cost me thousands of votes from working Scots.
Finally, another pointy head claims that the EU will impose security measures on my New Mediaeval Nirvana such that every poor sod who crosses the border to and from rUK will have to show a passport.
It's times like this that I once again remember Robert the Bruce in his cave watching the spider repeatedly trying to gain a foothold on the wall.
Well sod the bloody spider. I'll just phone Big John and shift £ 800k out of Scottish Water and into "strategic communications". That should help persuade the 75% of feckless unbelievers that economic recovery is of no importance compared to the chance of allowing the SNP to rule a Free Caledonia for millenia to come.
Just as that little shaft of light flashed across my peerless brain the phone rang.
It was Blind Jock, my good mate from Aberdeenshire.
"Hello Jock." I answered "Are you on to offer a couple of tips on the gee gees? "
"Well no Boss, not exactly"
I didn't like the rather serious tone from my otherwise cheery mate.
"It's just that myself and a few of the boys here in Aberdeenshire are a wee bitty worried about your chances next September." he sheepishly proffered.
"Dinna fash yersel' Jock" I replied in my best fake Doric.
"You see Boss." he continued " You lost 5,000 votes in the Aberdeen Donside by election and then there was a 3,000 vote swing in the by election loss at Dunfermline last week. The bookies are now offering odds on you winning a Yes vote of 5/1 against whilst a No vote is offered at 1/7 on - that's a racing cert! The bookies are also offering the lowest odds (4/9) on a turnout of more than 64% which is at least 14% higher than the 2011 Election and the highest turnout in a Scottish Parliamentary Election since 1999. So much for the undecided vote!"
"I mean, Boss, could it be that 2011 was simply a protest vote by canny Scots voters who saw a Tory Govt looming and a Labour Party in disarray? Could it be that they weren't remotely interested in your mandate for a referendum but simply wanted a form of Devo Max which is no longer on offer in this referendum?
"Boss.........are we doomed?"
"Now calm down Jock." I soothed "I am the finest politician of my generation and I'll sort this out. The White Paper is out at the end of the month and all the questions will be answered. Let's see what the bookies are saying after that shall we?"
It was the best I could do. Even I know that you don't beat the bookies. Not at those odds.
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
WHITE NOISE
I was holding court in Bute House, showing two diplomatic heavyweights from Ireland and Iceland my plans for a Chequers style weekend retreat in Stirling Castle when in barged Big John Swindly.
"Boss" he splurged
"This had better be good John." I replied, with a well practised tone of condescending annoyance.
"My friends here are from the Arc of Insolvency and I'm just showing them my plans for a second home once I'm elected President for Life."
"Boss. There's a problem. A huge stooshie that threatens to completely undermine our White Paper next month." He continued, sweating like Comrade Nicola in a maths test.
"Nonsense John. I've already told the scribes to take out any controversial economic detail and concentrate on nationalist bluster, fictional promises and a few fibs. We'll be fine."
But on he went: "But Glasgow University’s Centre for Public Policy and Regions and the Institute of Fiscal Studies have published reports saying that an independent Scotland would be at least £ 1bn - £2bn per annum worse off than if we were still part of the UK. They say we'd be losing £ 7bn pa from the Barnett Formula and only gaining £ 5bn - £ 6bn pa from the projected North Sea Oil revenues. No Scot in their right mind would vote for that! It would be like turkeys voting for Christmas."
I raised my eyes to the heavens, at the same time noting the elaborate gilded cornicing in my beloved Bute House. Maybe the addition of some suitably chubby, frog faced cherubs might enhance the ceiling, I thought to myself, before replying to this tedious drivel:
"We already knew that John. We've always known that the oil is depleting and can't substitute the Barnett Formula tax revenues from the UK beyond 2015. We just can't tell anyone. That's why I've got wee Comrade Nicola operating Project Fib. Make a few headline promises on benefit increases and hope the proletariat don't ask too many questions."
"But Boss," he continued " it's all very well to assume that our economically myopic freedom fighters will swallow anything we say, but 75% of Scots are unconvinced. They want to hear the economic facts."
"Well they can't and they won't." I snapped. "We can't win over the Scottish people with the truth. We can't ask them to swap the stable tax revenues of the balanced UK economy for a smaller economy based on a single, declining and highly volatile resource. We can't tell them that, as the oil continues to decline, we'll have to implement more and more increases in council tax, income tax and property tax. Nor can we tell them about our £ 14bn annual deficit and the doubling of sovereign debt costs or about the inevitable cuts in public services and welfare."
"None of that actually matters John. All that matters is that we will be in power."
"Now be a good lad and close the door on the way out. I've still to show the boys my plans for a statue of myself alongside Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn."
"Boss" he splurged
"This had better be good John." I replied, with a well practised tone of condescending annoyance.
"My friends here are from the Arc of Insolvency and I'm just showing them my plans for a second home once I'm elected President for Life."
"Boss. There's a problem. A huge stooshie that threatens to completely undermine our White Paper next month." He continued, sweating like Comrade Nicola in a maths test.
"Nonsense John. I've already told the scribes to take out any controversial economic detail and concentrate on nationalist bluster, fictional promises and a few fibs. We'll be fine."
But on he went: "But Glasgow University’s Centre for Public Policy and Regions and the Institute of Fiscal Studies have published reports saying that an independent Scotland would be at least £ 1bn - £2bn per annum worse off than if we were still part of the UK. They say we'd be losing £ 7bn pa from the Barnett Formula and only gaining £ 5bn - £ 6bn pa from the projected North Sea Oil revenues. No Scot in their right mind would vote for that! It would be like turkeys voting for Christmas."
I raised my eyes to the heavens, at the same time noting the elaborate gilded cornicing in my beloved Bute House. Maybe the addition of some suitably chubby, frog faced cherubs might enhance the ceiling, I thought to myself, before replying to this tedious drivel:
"We already knew that John. We've always known that the oil is depleting and can't substitute the Barnett Formula tax revenues from the UK beyond 2015. We just can't tell anyone. That's why I've got wee Comrade Nicola operating Project Fib. Make a few headline promises on benefit increases and hope the proletariat don't ask too many questions."
"But Boss," he continued " it's all very well to assume that our economically myopic freedom fighters will swallow anything we say, but 75% of Scots are unconvinced. They want to hear the economic facts."
"Well they can't and they won't." I snapped. "We can't win over the Scottish people with the truth. We can't ask them to swap the stable tax revenues of the balanced UK economy for a smaller economy based on a single, declining and highly volatile resource. We can't tell them that, as the oil continues to decline, we'll have to implement more and more increases in council tax, income tax and property tax. Nor can we tell them about our £ 14bn annual deficit and the doubling of sovereign debt costs or about the inevitable cuts in public services and welfare."
"None of that actually matters John. All that matters is that we will be in power."
"Now be a good lad and close the door on the way out. I've still to show the boys my plans for a statue of myself alongside Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn."
Monday, 28 October 2013
SNP BANNED LIST Ongoing
Memo to
Dear Joan McAggro
Head of Wasteland Security
SNP HQ
Free Calbania
My Dear Joan
Please add the following traitors to your ever expanding 2016 Deportation List:
1. The Institute of Fiscal Studies
For daring to publish the following:
The Institute of Fiscal Studies (IFS) found that an independent Scotland would face about £2.5bn spending cuts or tax rises over 2016-17 and 2018-19 if Scottish ministers followed the spending course set out by the UK government.
The IFS suggested that the debt inherited by a Scottish Government would make it difficult for Scotland to plot a different fiscal course than the cuts in public spending pencilled in by the UK government over the next few years.
The UK government has forecast cuts to public service spending totalling 1.6 per cent of GDP in 2016-17 and 2017-18 – and in Scotland that would be the equivalent of £2.5bn.
On top of that, the IFS report suggested that under declines in North Sea oil revenues forecast by the Office for Budget Responsibility, Scotland’s budget deficit could be 2.2 per cent further into the red than the UK as a whole in 2017-18.
The report said that to fill this hole would require a further £3.4bn of tax rises or spending cuts on top of the £2.5bn that would be required to follow UK spending plans.
2. The entire population of Dunfermline
For being "unpatriotic" by voting in a Labour candidate with a swing of 3000 votes just one week after my magnificent call to Freedom.
3. The entire population of Helensburgh
They'll all be wanting compensation and benefits when I shut down Faslane and Comrade Nicola doesn't have the budget to pay them so best to ship the lot of them off to Portsmouth with the submarines.
4. Gavin McCrone - economist
For daring to print the following about my inability to create an Oil Fund:
The inconvenient truth is that although Scottish onshore tax revenue is approximately equal to the UK average, public expenditure per head is over £1,000 higher. So tax revenue without the income from the North Sea would not cover present expenditure, if Scotland was relying on its own resources. In order to pay the oil revenues into a special fund, therefore, the onshore revenue and expenditure would need to be brought into balance either with a substantial cut in expenditure on top of the present cuts or by raising onshore taxes.
5. Alan Cochrane - journalist
For daring to speak for the dignified majority.
Finally, no mention whatsoever should be made about Grangemouth. The whole incident exposed the fact that we politicians are virtually powerless in the face of big business and had to "pull together" in order to have the merest of influences on Ineos. Even if I get to be Life President of Free Calbania then there will be nothing I could do to stop banks, oil companies, fund managers or any other private enterprise scaling down or closing their Scottish operations.
No one must know this...........and, er, forget I ever used the phrase "pull together".
Many Thanks
Your Glorious Leader
Bravebelly
c/o Presidential Suite
Gleneagles Hotel
Dear Joan McAggro
Head of Wasteland Security
SNP HQ
Free Calbania
My Dear Joan
Please add the following traitors to your ever expanding 2016 Deportation List:
1. The Institute of Fiscal Studies
For daring to publish the following:
The Institute of Fiscal Studies (IFS) found that an independent Scotland would face about £2.5bn spending cuts or tax rises over 2016-17 and 2018-19 if Scottish ministers followed the spending course set out by the UK government.
The IFS suggested that the debt inherited by a Scottish Government would make it difficult for Scotland to plot a different fiscal course than the cuts in public spending pencilled in by the UK government over the next few years.
The UK government has forecast cuts to public service spending totalling 1.6 per cent of GDP in 2016-17 and 2017-18 – and in Scotland that would be the equivalent of £2.5bn.
On top of that, the IFS report suggested that under declines in North Sea oil revenues forecast by the Office for Budget Responsibility, Scotland’s budget deficit could be 2.2 per cent further into the red than the UK as a whole in 2017-18.
The report said that to fill this hole would require a further £3.4bn of tax rises or spending cuts on top of the £2.5bn that would be required to follow UK spending plans.
2. The entire population of Dunfermline
For being "unpatriotic" by voting in a Labour candidate with a swing of 3000 votes just one week after my magnificent call to Freedom.
3. The entire population of Helensburgh
They'll all be wanting compensation and benefits when I shut down Faslane and Comrade Nicola doesn't have the budget to pay them so best to ship the lot of them off to Portsmouth with the submarines.
4. Gavin McCrone - economist
For daring to print the following about my inability to create an Oil Fund:
The inconvenient truth is that although Scottish onshore tax revenue is approximately equal to the UK average, public expenditure per head is over £1,000 higher. So tax revenue without the income from the North Sea would not cover present expenditure, if Scotland was relying on its own resources. In order to pay the oil revenues into a special fund, therefore, the onshore revenue and expenditure would need to be brought into balance either with a substantial cut in expenditure on top of the present cuts or by raising onshore taxes.
5. Alan Cochrane - journalist
For daring to speak for the dignified majority.
Finally, no mention whatsoever should be made about Grangemouth. The whole incident exposed the fact that we politicians are virtually powerless in the face of big business and had to "pull together" in order to have the merest of influences on Ineos. Even if I get to be Life President of Free Calbania then there will be nothing I could do to stop banks, oil companies, fund managers or any other private enterprise scaling down or closing their Scottish operations.
No one must know this...........and, er, forget I ever used the phrase "pull together".
Many Thanks
Your Glorious Leader
Bravebelly
c/o Presidential Suite
Gleneagles Hotel
Monday, 21 October 2013
PROJECT FIB
Well wee Princess Nicola has taken to my fibbin' strategy like a jakey to the Buckie.
Much to my delight, my wee comrade had the bottle to stand up in front of the massed ranks of Freedom Dreamers at my little Bamberg Gathering in Perth and promise to remove certain green charges from power bills so they were an average of £70 per year lower. Obviously she didn't mention that average bills in a Free Calbania would have to increase by around £875 per year after independence because Scottish households would have to pay wind farm subsidies currently spread across the whole UK.
I really didn't need the pointy heads at the David Hume Institute or Citigroup to point out this inevitable price hike but fair play to Nicola the Naive. She was limited in her application of economic facts to the truth.
Not only that my friends, she then put the icing on the cake by launching her very own Project Feart, claiming that the Westminster junta would “turn the screw", “dismantle Scotland’s social security system” and “cut Scotland’s budget” if Scots voted No.
Magic, pure factually baseless mince but magic nonetheless.
Of course, the castrati in Perth shrilled with approval.
Not to be outdone by Comrade Nicola, I then topped the show by filling their unpolished minds with a speech in which I left the awkward issue of economic reality to one side and appealed to base nationalism and a desire for self determination at all costs.
It went down a treat.
Afterwards, as my limousine whisked me back to my HQ at the suitably prestigious Gleneagles Hotel, I got a call from Dear Joan McAggro, my Head of Wasteland Security. She was still in Perth arming the unthinking with Yes badges.
"Oh Great Bravebelly" she cooed, " I swear you could convince Texans to vote for independence from the USA. You really are that good. We're on our way to Free Calbania and I cannae wait! Thank you so much."
I sat back in the limo and smiled.
A free Texas. Why not? Look at the parallels. To hell with all the benefits of a successful Union and federal system. They've got oil, attitude and the Alamo. We've got a wee bit of oil, a barrel load of fibs and Bannockburn. And me of course.
"Do you know Joan. I actually think I could. Now get off the phone and get back to handing out the badges. Don't forget, we are way behind in the polls and if the quiet majority actually go out and vote next September then we will be consigned to the dustbin of history."
Much to my delight, my wee comrade had the bottle to stand up in front of the massed ranks of Freedom Dreamers at my little Bamberg Gathering in Perth and promise to remove certain green charges from power bills so they were an average of £70 per year lower. Obviously she didn't mention that average bills in a Free Calbania would have to increase by around £875 per year after independence because Scottish households would have to pay wind farm subsidies currently spread across the whole UK.
I really didn't need the pointy heads at the David Hume Institute or Citigroup to point out this inevitable price hike but fair play to Nicola the Naive. She was limited in her application of economic facts to the truth.
Not only that my friends, she then put the icing on the cake by launching her very own Project Feart, claiming that the Westminster junta would “turn the screw", “dismantle Scotland’s social security system” and “cut Scotland’s budget” if Scots voted No.
Magic, pure factually baseless mince but magic nonetheless.
Of course, the castrati in Perth shrilled with approval.
Not to be outdone by Comrade Nicola, I then topped the show by filling their unpolished minds with a speech in which I left the awkward issue of economic reality to one side and appealed to base nationalism and a desire for self determination at all costs.
It went down a treat.
Afterwards, as my limousine whisked me back to my HQ at the suitably prestigious Gleneagles Hotel, I got a call from Dear Joan McAggro, my Head of Wasteland Security. She was still in Perth arming the unthinking with Yes badges.
"Oh Great Bravebelly" she cooed, " I swear you could convince Texans to vote for independence from the USA. You really are that good. We're on our way to Free Calbania and I cannae wait! Thank you so much."
I sat back in the limo and smiled.
A free Texas. Why not? Look at the parallels. To hell with all the benefits of a successful Union and federal system. They've got oil, attitude and the Alamo. We've got a wee bit of oil, a barrel load of fibs and Bannockburn. And me of course.
"Do you know Joan. I actually think I could. Now get off the phone and get back to handing out the badges. Don't forget, we are way behind in the polls and if the quiet majority actually go out and vote next September then we will be consigned to the dustbin of history."
Saturday, 12 October 2013
DAVID AND GOLIATH
Now it's been said in some quarters that I am a weak debater. That I compensate for my lack of intellectual sharpness by reverting to personal insults, deflection and, if absolutely necessary, terminological inexactitude.
Well we shall see about that.
My senior advisers are concerned, and in order to allay their fears, my press office decided to invite one of those pimple faced 16 year old No voters to Bute House to discuss the referendum. He had won a schools debating competition in Aberdeen and I thought he'd make excellent sport in front of a select band of supine journos and the usual entourage of my party lackeys.
Two of my burly new security men ushered the lad into my extravagantly furnished morning room where I awaited his arrival on my favourite Louis XVI chair.
"Well good morning laddie." I cried, dropping my Racing Post on the foot stool and trying to muster as much sincerity as possible.
"Good morning Mr Bravebelly." the boy replied. "I'm David. Nice to meet you."
Begrudgingly I shook the little urchin's hand.
"Yes. Of course." I replied. "Anyway, help yourself to the all day buffet" gesturing towards the food laden table in the corner.
"I'm fine thank you" the boy replied "By the way, I do like your tartan trews. They look very smart."
"Well thank you son. They bloody well should do. I've just had to stump up £ 250 for them. Never trust the press son. Never trust the press.
"Anyway, young David, I understand that you don't agree with my crusade to free Scotland from English chains and thus give me, er sorry, Scots the chance to define their own economic and social future. Are you mad boy? Are you English or are you simply thick?"
I glanced at my press officers and noticed the smirks of approval on their faces. This was going to be too easy.
"Well Mr Bravebelly, I simply don't understand how you can claim that giving up our partnership in the UK £ in favour of a subservient currency relationship with rUK in any way represents independence. Simple logic states that you are proposing to swap financial partnership and ownership for dependence on the currency partner you are divorcing."
A slight wobble shivered through my jowels as I fixed my eye on this wretch.
"Well, you see son, when I win freedom for Scotland, rUK will be forced to give me the currency arrangements that suit me. I'll be the leader of a nation state and they'll have to do what I say."
"Well that's not true, is it Mr Bravebelly?" replied the boy. "Only last week Ed Balls came out and said that a Labour government would most likely not allow you to share the £ in the event of a Yes vote. George Osborne has said the same thing. They would not underwrite your need to borrow £ 7bn per year and so the bond markets would only lend to you at rates equating to twice what we pay now. Moreover, long standing sources of tax revenues such as RBS, Lloyds/HBOS and the fund managers would relocate their HQs to London almost instantly. It would be capital flight on a massive scale, decimating the financial industry in Scotland."
I could barely suppress another wobble.
"Oh, I see laddie" I blurted out "It's Project Fear is it. Negatives. Negatives. Negatives. Is that all you've got son?"
"No Mr Bravebelly." replied young David, sensing the unease in his much larger opponent. "These are the clearly stated intentions of the very individuals who will assume 100% control over your preferred currency, the rUK £. They are saying that your financial relationship with rUK will be one of a complete and utter dependent. We would be on a worse footing than Greece. These are facts to be fearful of for sure. But facts they remain"
"Listen here, you squirt. We've got shed loads of oil and I'm erecting wind farms quicker than Glasgow Rangers are burning cash. In terms of commercial credibility we've got support from Monaco Jim, a bloke with some care homes and two lottery winners. My cabinet is bristling with O grades and I have the unquestioning support of every amoeba minded Scot with a chip on their shoulder. That's a heady cocktail son."
"Well it sounds like one that would give you and your fellow countrymen a vicious hangover for generations and probably explains why only 25% of Scots support your campaign" fired back the boy David. " And by the way Mr Bravebelly, what are your public sector spending plans for 2016 - 2050? What tax increases will you be budgeting for over that timescale and what do you intend to do once North Sea oil is exhausted in 2050?"
"Get him out of here!" I yelled, wobbling uncontrollably.
Two security men grabbed the boy, but he continued:
"Can you guarantee that my generation will have the same easy access to employment in London in the unlikely event that your resentful and messy divorce from rUK goes through in 2014?"
"Now!" I exploded, plunging a fist into a plate of Greggs sausage rolls and scattering the attendant lackeys.
Still the questions came:
"Is it true that an independent Scotland will decrease its tax take by up to £ 2bn per annum and more each year as the oil runs out ?"
"Aaargh!" the veins on my neck resembled the pipework at Grangemouth at full production. "I ... will not ..... be questioned .... like this!"
Finally the questions faded as the security guards hauled the wee git down the corridor and huckled him out of the building.
Princess Nicola started crying and the rest of them fled from the room.
"If that's what the majority of Scots think then we are doomed." she proffered, meekly.
I slumped back into my chair.
"Oh for God's sake stop greetin' woman. That boy doesn't speak for Scotland. I do. And don't forget it."
Monday, 30 September 2013
MY LETTER TO THE EVIL SHERIFF OF BULLINGDON
Dear David,
I write in response to your letter of 26 September in which you say that you are unwilling to debate the future of Scotland with me, the future King of Scotland.
The government which you lead is central to the entire referendum debate from the perspective of the No campaign - even although none of you English oppressors get to vote. The reality is that your government continues to make decisions affecting Scotland because that is what the electorate voted for… this annoys me because I believe I am the reincarnation of William Wallace.
No. I'm serious.
The fundamental argument at the heart of the case for independence is that I get to have total power and get a huge entourage and get treated like a small African potentate.
Stuff the economics, I know they don't work but I really don't care.
It's all about me.
There is worrying evidence that under the current constitutional arrangements your government intends to cut spending in Scotland. However, that wouldn't be anything like the £ 6bn which the Institute of Fiscal Studies tells us that an independent Scotland would have to cut from the current public spending budget between 2016 - 18 just to meet EU Maastricht Treaty borrowing requirements.
Senior Tory figures, including Ruth Davidson, have called for the current Barnett Formula to be abolished. I believe that a debate on such a crucial issue should take place so I can launch my own Project Fear by insinuating that you might plan to cut public spending in Scotland in the event there is a No vote. I will obviously be saying nothing about the comparatively impoverishing cuts which I, the newly elected King of New Caledonianalbania, would have to impose on my unsuspecting minions in order to turn the 2.3% deficit into the EU required 3.1% surplus.
You suggested in Scotland last year that you had an alternative constitutional position to independence. That is one alternative more than me, so fair play to you on that one. People have the right to know what it is before the referendum takes place. They certainly won't be hearing that from me of course.
Finally, you suggest I should debate with the chairman of the No campaign Alistair Darling. I’m sure that other debates will take place in due course but for the reasons I have made clear the key debate has to be between the head of the Scottish Government – the First Minister of Scotland (that makes me like Obama and Putin by the way son) - and the head of the elected Westminster government – the UK Prime Minister.
The case for a head-to-head debate between us is unanswerable. You should reconsider.
Or else............ I'm gubbed.
http://www.scotsman.com/news/politics/top-stories/scottish-independence-salmond-s-new-debate-demand-1-3117428
I write in response to your letter of 26 September in which you say that you are unwilling to debate the future of Scotland with me, the future King of Scotland.
The government which you lead is central to the entire referendum debate from the perspective of the No campaign - even although none of you English oppressors get to vote. The reality is that your government continues to make decisions affecting Scotland because that is what the electorate voted for… this annoys me because I believe I am the reincarnation of William Wallace.
No. I'm serious.
The fundamental argument at the heart of the case for independence is that I get to have total power and get a huge entourage and get treated like a small African potentate.
Stuff the economics, I know they don't work but I really don't care.
It's all about me.
There is worrying evidence that under the current constitutional arrangements your government intends to cut spending in Scotland. However, that wouldn't be anything like the £ 6bn which the Institute of Fiscal Studies tells us that an independent Scotland would have to cut from the current public spending budget between 2016 - 18 just to meet EU Maastricht Treaty borrowing requirements.
Senior Tory figures, including Ruth Davidson, have called for the current Barnett Formula to be abolished. I believe that a debate on such a crucial issue should take place so I can launch my own Project Fear by insinuating that you might plan to cut public spending in Scotland in the event there is a No vote. I will obviously be saying nothing about the comparatively impoverishing cuts which I, the newly elected King of New Caledonianalbania, would have to impose on my unsuspecting minions in order to turn the 2.3% deficit into the EU required 3.1% surplus.
You suggested in Scotland last year that you had an alternative constitutional position to independence. That is one alternative more than me, so fair play to you on that one. People have the right to know what it is before the referendum takes place. They certainly won't be hearing that from me of course.
Finally, you suggest I should debate with the chairman of the No campaign Alistair Darling. I’m sure that other debates will take place in due course but for the reasons I have made clear the key debate has to be between the head of the Scottish Government – the First Minister of Scotland (that makes me like Obama and Putin by the way son) - and the head of the elected Westminster government – the UK Prime Minister.
The case for a head-to-head debate between us is unanswerable. You should reconsider.
Or else............ I'm gubbed.
http://www.scotsman.com/news/politics/top-stories/scottish-independence-salmond-s-new-debate-demand-1-3117428
Sunday, 29 September 2013
REICHSPARTEITAG
The big day had arrived. The great Och Aye Campaign rally on Calton Hill.
The motorcade pulled up in front of Bute House and my six new security guards stepped out to usher their great leader into his gleaming limousine.
Now this is the way to travel. This is what being First Minister is all about.
The underlings piled into the cars behind whilst a pensive Princess Nicola and Big John Swindly joined me in the back of my spanking new limo.
"Sire, how many do you think will be there?" asked Nicola the Naive.
"Enough to fill the seven hills of Edinburgh." I replied "They'll have come from all across our brave Caledonia to hear my message; my Sermon for Scotland as it were. It will be a like the great gathering of the clans in 1745."
Sure enough, as the motorcade made it's way to Calton Hill, we began to encounter crowds of young men walking east from Edinburgh city centre.
"See!" I exclaimed "Just look at that impressive legion of Scottish patriots making their way down London Road. They're obviously heading for Calton Hill to hear me speak."
A somewhat less chirpy John Swindly piped up: "Sorry Sire, but thery're all wearing green scarves. I think you'll find that's the Hibernian support on the way to the St Mirren game. There are more people heading towards Easter Road than to Calton Hill."
Hibees. Not good. Last time I ran into one of them he called me a frog faced Jambo baistard.
"Carry on driver. Don't you worry John." I countered. "There will be tens and tens of thousands waiting for me. Scotland's natural majority gathered to hear their leader speak of our impending freedom from English Thrall. Just you wait and see."
As the motorcade climbed Calton Hill my brave heart started to sink. We passed the usual smattering of left wing Berserker Nats, half drunk students and even a group of Far Right Belgian separatists; but for God's sake, this looked more like a bloody Run Rig tribute concert than a national rally. There can have been no more that 4,000 people waiting to hear Scotland's Liberator speak. What on earth is going on? Where is everybody?
The car stopped and I plastered on a smile as I struggled to ease my girth through the car door.
A line of apparent dignitaries awaited me. I barely recognised any of them. Oh Christ, I thought, this looks like a bloody dole queue.
A small, rotund and very nervous lady rushed towards the motor.
"Oh mighty Bravebelly, it's yersel'. Welcome to our wee pairty. I'm the actress and comedienne Hellain C Mentalcase, I'm compering the show 'an that. Do want a wee swally before you go on stage? Ah've got some Buckie in ma haunbag and aifter yer antics at Wimbledon I ken hoo you like a wee stash in a haunbag, eh Big Yin?!?"
"Onyway. C'moan an' meet the celebs." she urged, pushing me towards the small line of glaikit faces.
Celebs! Who in the name of Boaby Bruce were these people. A washed up folk singer, some comedian I'd never heard of; Blithering Blair, the incompetent successfully running the Och Aye Campaign into the ground and, to cap it all, Dennis Canavan, the man who put the boot into me over my decision to try and peg Free Scotland's currency to sterling. Great, just bloody great.
Every sinew in my body wanted to get back into my limo and be driven as far away from these loons as possible. However, I am the single most important person in Scotland and had a duty to speak to my minions, no matter how small the turn out.
The next 20 minutes were purgatory.
"Let's make sure they can hear us in London" I cried as I took the stage "How are we going to vote next year?"
A collective Yes resounded back to me, albeit with all the force of a puff of smoke.
"Bairns not Bombs" I bellowed. A collective look of bewilderment came straight back to me.
"The Evil Sheriff Bullingdon is feart to debate me." I declared. "Oh, yes he is" came back the pantomime response.
"Saor Alba!"............ blank faces stared out at me.
Finally, finally, it was over.
Nicola the Naive was inconsolable. Big John looked ready to throw himself off Arthur's Seat.
Nothing was said as the limo made it's slow, winding way down Calton Hill.
Finally, I'd had enough.
"Right. That's it. If we cannae win by fair means then let's win by foul." I blurted.
"What do mean Sire?" asked Nicola, choking back the tears.
"Lies. We'll just have to tell lies. Wee white ones to start but bloody big whoppers if we need to."
"Like what?" said Big John
"Well let's start with pensions" I said "Get a press release out tomorrow saying that we will guarantee to pay a bigger pension that the UK average".
"What!" exclaimed Swindly "We can't afford to do that. You know as well as I do that the Institute of Fiscal Studies have told us that there will have to be around £6bn of pubic sector cuts and tax increases across the board if, by some miracle, we win next September. Under the rules of the Maastricht Treaty we'd have to turn a 2.3% annual deficit into a 3.1% annual surplus just to be able to borrow enough to service our share of the national debt."
"Also, we can't guarantee anything because nothing has been agreed with the UK govt. No currency, no share of the national debt, no pension agreements, nothing. And the oil is running out. You can't possibly make that guarantee."
"I don't care." I said emphatically" Send it out. And Nicola. dry your eyes and get yersel' along to an old folks home for the photocall tomorrow. Preferably one where they're all suffering from advanced dementia so you won't get rumbled by the residents."
That'll teach this nation of halfwits to ignore me when I call them to a rally.
The motorcade pulled up in front of Bute House and my six new security guards stepped out to usher their great leader into his gleaming limousine.
Now this is the way to travel. This is what being First Minister is all about.
The underlings piled into the cars behind whilst a pensive Princess Nicola and Big John Swindly joined me in the back of my spanking new limo.
"Sire, how many do you think will be there?" asked Nicola the Naive.
"Enough to fill the seven hills of Edinburgh." I replied "They'll have come from all across our brave Caledonia to hear my message; my Sermon for Scotland as it were. It will be a like the great gathering of the clans in 1745."
Sure enough, as the motorcade made it's way to Calton Hill, we began to encounter crowds of young men walking east from Edinburgh city centre.
"See!" I exclaimed "Just look at that impressive legion of Scottish patriots making their way down London Road. They're obviously heading for Calton Hill to hear me speak."
A somewhat less chirpy John Swindly piped up: "Sorry Sire, but thery're all wearing green scarves. I think you'll find that's the Hibernian support on the way to the St Mirren game. There are more people heading towards Easter Road than to Calton Hill."
Hibees. Not good. Last time I ran into one of them he called me a frog faced Jambo baistard.
"Carry on driver. Don't you worry John." I countered. "There will be tens and tens of thousands waiting for me. Scotland's natural majority gathered to hear their leader speak of our impending freedom from English Thrall. Just you wait and see."
As the motorcade climbed Calton Hill my brave heart started to sink. We passed the usual smattering of left wing Berserker Nats, half drunk students and even a group of Far Right Belgian separatists; but for God's sake, this looked more like a bloody Run Rig tribute concert than a national rally. There can have been no more that 4,000 people waiting to hear Scotland's Liberator speak. What on earth is going on? Where is everybody?
The car stopped and I plastered on a smile as I struggled to ease my girth through the car door.
A line of apparent dignitaries awaited me. I barely recognised any of them. Oh Christ, I thought, this looks like a bloody dole queue.
A small, rotund and very nervous lady rushed towards the motor.
"Oh mighty Bravebelly, it's yersel'. Welcome to our wee pairty. I'm the actress and comedienne Hellain C Mentalcase, I'm compering the show 'an that. Do want a wee swally before you go on stage? Ah've got some Buckie in ma haunbag and aifter yer antics at Wimbledon I ken hoo you like a wee stash in a haunbag, eh Big Yin?!?"
"Onyway. C'moan an' meet the celebs." she urged, pushing me towards the small line of glaikit faces.
Celebs! Who in the name of Boaby Bruce were these people. A washed up folk singer, some comedian I'd never heard of; Blithering Blair, the incompetent successfully running the Och Aye Campaign into the ground and, to cap it all, Dennis Canavan, the man who put the boot into me over my decision to try and peg Free Scotland's currency to sterling. Great, just bloody great.
Every sinew in my body wanted to get back into my limo and be driven as far away from these loons as possible. However, I am the single most important person in Scotland and had a duty to speak to my minions, no matter how small the turn out.
The next 20 minutes were purgatory.
"Let's make sure they can hear us in London" I cried as I took the stage "How are we going to vote next year?"
A collective Yes resounded back to me, albeit with all the force of a puff of smoke.
"Bairns not Bombs" I bellowed. A collective look of bewilderment came straight back to me.
"The Evil Sheriff Bullingdon is feart to debate me." I declared. "Oh, yes he is" came back the pantomime response.
"Saor Alba!"............ blank faces stared out at me.
Finally, finally, it was over.
Nicola the Naive was inconsolable. Big John looked ready to throw himself off Arthur's Seat.
Nothing was said as the limo made it's slow, winding way down Calton Hill.
Finally, I'd had enough.
"Right. That's it. If we cannae win by fair means then let's win by foul." I blurted.
"What do mean Sire?" asked Nicola, choking back the tears.
"Lies. We'll just have to tell lies. Wee white ones to start but bloody big whoppers if we need to."
"Like what?" said Big John
"Well let's start with pensions" I said "Get a press release out tomorrow saying that we will guarantee to pay a bigger pension that the UK average".
"What!" exclaimed Swindly "We can't afford to do that. You know as well as I do that the Institute of Fiscal Studies have told us that there will have to be around £6bn of pubic sector cuts and tax increases across the board if, by some miracle, we win next September. Under the rules of the Maastricht Treaty we'd have to turn a 2.3% annual deficit into a 3.1% annual surplus just to be able to borrow enough to service our share of the national debt."
"Also, we can't guarantee anything because nothing has been agreed with the UK govt. No currency, no share of the national debt, no pension agreements, nothing. And the oil is running out. You can't possibly make that guarantee."
"I don't care." I said emphatically" Send it out. And Nicola. dry your eyes and get yersel' along to an old folks home for the photocall tomorrow. Preferably one where they're all suffering from advanced dementia so you won't get rumbled by the residents."
That'll teach this nation of halfwits to ignore me when I call them to a rally.
Wednesday, 21 August 2013
LET'S GET FRACKING
So the baw is on the slates.
My dreams of a New Caledonia as a land flowing with Wiseman's milk and the black honey of North Sea oil have got a right good trampling.
A fall in output of 19% during 2011 and 14% in 2012. A further fall of at least 8.5% during this year, with
no recovery next year.
That's a bloody disaster.
Maybe Kemp and the pointy heads are right. Maybe North Sea oil production will fall to a measly 125,000 brls per day by 2030. Maybe they are right about oil extraction from the North Sea becoming unviable by the time our children reach pension age.
All this and an end to Scotland's £ 5.5bn annual share of UK tax revenues from London's financial sector.
What on earth am I to do??
Well, first and foremost we'll be saying nothing at all to the proles. Meantime, I'll have to look elsewhere to fund the burgeoning Scottish pension bill.
Wind and wave power? Well, even the simple minded have worked out that these pillars of inefficiency couldn't generate enough electricity to run the Christmas lights in George Square.
The coal's been decommissioned and my Free Caledonia wouldn't be able to afford nuclear.
No, it's time to look at fracking. I'm mean let's face it, if we can extract billions of £s worth of oil and gas by fracturing the ground under Ayrshire then who's going to complain? And if Ayrshire then turns into a landscape reminiscent of the surface of Mars then, frankly, who's going to be able to tell the difference.
Yes my fellow freedom fighters. Fracking is the new North Sea Oil!
My dreams of a New Caledonia as a land flowing with Wiseman's milk and the black honey of North Sea oil have got a right good trampling.
The Tory, Unionist mouthpiece that is the BBC have announced that there has been a sharp decline in production of oil and gas from under British waters and that this is "worrying" industry leaders.
Worrying industry leaders! It's got me keekin' my XXL tartan underpants!!
That's a bloody disaster.
Maybe Kemp and the pointy heads are right. Maybe North Sea oil production will fall to a measly 125,000 brls per day by 2030. Maybe they are right about oil extraction from the North Sea becoming unviable by the time our children reach pension age.
All this and an end to Scotland's £ 5.5bn annual share of UK tax revenues from London's financial sector.
What on earth am I to do??
Well, first and foremost we'll be saying nothing at all to the proles. Meantime, I'll have to look elsewhere to fund the burgeoning Scottish pension bill.
Wind and wave power? Well, even the simple minded have worked out that these pillars of inefficiency couldn't generate enough electricity to run the Christmas lights in George Square.
The coal's been decommissioned and my Free Caledonia wouldn't be able to afford nuclear.
No, it's time to look at fracking. I'm mean let's face it, if we can extract billions of £s worth of oil and gas by fracturing the ground under Ayrshire then who's going to complain? And if Ayrshire then turns into a landscape reminiscent of the surface of Mars then, frankly, who's going to be able to tell the difference.
Yes my fellow freedom fighters. Fracking is the new North Sea Oil!
Monday, 22 July 2013
HONOURABLE MEMBER
The newspapers were pushed under the door of my expansive bedroom at Bute House and the rapid retreat of the footsteps told me they bore bad news.
As usual, The Racing Post was first to be scanned. Quean Fifi had unseated her rider at the first hurdle at Musselburgh the day before and had cost me the usual £ 50 but that was only to be expected. She's been carrying too much weight for months now and can't last the distance. However, this was as nothing compared to the front pages of the broadsheets.
I picked out the first article and read on:
"The golfing world breathed a sigh of relief as the Honourable Member of the men only Burns Howff Club in Dumfries announced that he wasn't going to attend the Open Championship at Muirfield.
In a bid to “woo women voters”, Mr Bravebelly is boycotting the Muirfield event after describing the men-only club as “indefensible in the 21st century."
Aw, naw. How on earth did they find out about Dumfries. Even I'd forgotten about that. It makes me look like a complete opportunist, and a hypocrite to boot.
It got worse:
"Croatia admitted to European Union but only on condition it adopts the Euro, thus scuppering Mr Bravebelly's hopes of selling EU membership to Scottish public as a Plan B currency option. Critics also point out that his latest Isle of Man currency model has already been rejected by his own Fiscal Commission."
All this puts me in right guddle. Either I give up Scotland's control of the £ or I opt for a currency of our own, the Skinto. The voters will never agree to giving up control of the £ and Big John Swindly tells me the value of the Skinto would fall faster than Quean Fifi in the Grand National so that's a non starter.
Time for some diversionary English bashing methinks.
How about using a huge dollop of Creative Scotland's money to commission an STV series about my predecessors William Wallace and Robert the Bruce? Yes. Broadcast it in 2014. Even better.
Cynical, jingoistic, backward looking, parochial and divisive.
That's all the boxes ticked!
As usual, The Racing Post was first to be scanned. Quean Fifi had unseated her rider at the first hurdle at Musselburgh the day before and had cost me the usual £ 50 but that was only to be expected. She's been carrying too much weight for months now and can't last the distance. However, this was as nothing compared to the front pages of the broadsheets.
I picked out the first article and read on:
"The golfing world breathed a sigh of relief as the Honourable Member of the men only Burns Howff Club in Dumfries announced that he wasn't going to attend the Open Championship at Muirfield.
In a bid to “woo women voters”, Mr Bravebelly is boycotting the Muirfield event after describing the men-only club as “indefensible in the 21st century."
Aw, naw. How on earth did they find out about Dumfries. Even I'd forgotten about that. It makes me look like a complete opportunist, and a hypocrite to boot.
It got worse:
"Croatia admitted to European Union but only on condition it adopts the Euro, thus scuppering Mr Bravebelly's hopes of selling EU membership to Scottish public as a Plan B currency option. Critics also point out that his latest Isle of Man currency model has already been rejected by his own Fiscal Commission."
All this puts me in right guddle. Either I give up Scotland's control of the £ or I opt for a currency of our own, the Skinto. The voters will never agree to giving up control of the £ and Big John Swindly tells me the value of the Skinto would fall faster than Quean Fifi in the Grand National so that's a non starter.
Time for some diversionary English bashing methinks.
How about using a huge dollop of Creative Scotland's money to commission an STV series about my predecessors William Wallace and Robert the Bruce? Yes. Broadcast it in 2014. Even better.
Cynical, jingoistic, backward looking, parochial and divisive.
That's all the boxes ticked!
VIP
One thing I've noticed that we Heads of State all have in common is a large entourage. Personal assistants, special advisers and numerous burly security guards all help to show you, the commoners, that I am a very, very important person.
Now with this in mind, and the internet awash with completely unjustified criticism of my spontaneous outburst of patriotism at Wimbledon, I called the head of Scotland's polis on my special hotline to ask for more security as I hit the campaign trail. He was in a meeting with his top brass so knew that my call would be put through immediately.
Me: "Good Morning Superintendent. It's your glorious leader here."
Head of Polis (hand over phone receiver): "Excuse me lads, I've got Bravebelly on the Fatphone."
Me:" Now listen here. I'm none to happy with all this abuse I'm getting for Wimbledon, and even unhappier that the All England Club have sent me a letter banning me from the place. It's obvious that I need more security."
Head of Polis: "Mr Bravebelly, sir, I think the biggest threat to your security is probably yourself. I thought I explained the rules about how you are supposed to behave in the Royal Box."
Me: " Well that's all water under the bridge now. Send me more coppers. And I want the ones with the dark glasses and the wires coming out of their ears. They make me look really important."
Head of Polis: " Sire, I can only restate my position. There is not a sufficient threat to justify the huge cost that such personal security would entail. My budget has been decimated over the last few years and I barely have the manpower to police the country's populus never mind you."
Me: "Havers man. I am the populus. I am the most important Scot for generations and if anything happens to me then our dream of an independent Nirvana will turn to dust."
Head of Polis: "That will be your dream Sir. I think you'll find the large majority of Scots don't want independence."
Me: "Then that's all the more the reason to send me more coppers. What if I get "Nigel Faraged" when I'm walking about Edinburgh among the great unwashed ?"
Head of Polis: "Sorry Sir. I don't see the risk and I don't have the money."
Me: "Right. I'll find the money from the Scottish Office and get Big John Swindly to hide the paper trail. Just send me the coppers."
Head of Polis: "As you command sire."
Now, with the annual bill for my 14 Special Advisers costing the Scottish public £ 930,000 how do I ensure that the press never find out about this latest exercise in hubris????
Now with this in mind, and the internet awash with completely unjustified criticism of my spontaneous outburst of patriotism at Wimbledon, I called the head of Scotland's polis on my special hotline to ask for more security as I hit the campaign trail. He was in a meeting with his top brass so knew that my call would be put through immediately.
Me: "Good Morning Superintendent. It's your glorious leader here."
Head of Polis (hand over phone receiver): "Excuse me lads, I've got Bravebelly on the Fatphone."
Me:" Now listen here. I'm none to happy with all this abuse I'm getting for Wimbledon, and even unhappier that the All England Club have sent me a letter banning me from the place. It's obvious that I need more security."
Head of Polis: "Mr Bravebelly, sir, I think the biggest threat to your security is probably yourself. I thought I explained the rules about how you are supposed to behave in the Royal Box."
Me: " Well that's all water under the bridge now. Send me more coppers. And I want the ones with the dark glasses and the wires coming out of their ears. They make me look really important."
Head of Polis: " Sire, I can only restate my position. There is not a sufficient threat to justify the huge cost that such personal security would entail. My budget has been decimated over the last few years and I barely have the manpower to police the country's populus never mind you."
Me: "Havers man. I am the populus. I am the most important Scot for generations and if anything happens to me then our dream of an independent Nirvana will turn to dust."
Head of Polis: "That will be your dream Sir. I think you'll find the large majority of Scots don't want independence."
Me: "Then that's all the more the reason to send me more coppers. What if I get "Nigel Faraged" when I'm walking about Edinburgh among the great unwashed ?"
Head of Polis: "Sorry Sir. I don't see the risk and I don't have the money."
Me: "Right. I'll find the money from the Scottish Office and get Big John Swindly to hide the paper trail. Just send me the coppers."
Head of Polis: "As you command sire."
Now, with the annual bill for my 14 Special Advisers costing the Scottish public £ 930,000 how do I ensure that the press never find out about this latest exercise in hubris????
Tuesday, 9 July 2013
CASHING IN
Morning Minions
Now. How to follow up on my Saltire waving expolits?
Aside from ordering Dear Joan McAggro and my berserker Cybernats to hunt down and exile the anti patriot that tweeted "That wasn't a flag, that was his underpants" I thought the whole thing went down really well. Reminded me of my days on the terracing at Tynecastle (not that I went to that God forsaken place that often you understand).
Anyway, never mind Murray's achievements. After all, I've ensured that he can't vote in the referendum. My real genius was humiliating the Evil Bullingdon and hooking up my Yes Campaign to the Murray bandwagon.
So what next? What other rabbits can I pull out of Moira's voluminous handbag?
The Evil Bullingdon will no doubt give him a knighthood so how do I deliver another crushing blow to The Great Satan?
How about a star studded dinner in Stirling Castle with me as the host?
The King of Scotland hosts it's sporting prince. Yes, I like it.
We'll get Greggs to do the catering and I'll get Andy to sit next to me and the Princess of Welfare, Nicola the Naive. Daft Jim McBlowhard can sponsor it (tax deductable you understand) and I'll get Big John Swindly to open the biscuit tin and build a few all weather tennis courts in the local area.
Just think of the photo opportunities.
Sunday, 7 July 2013
VICTORY!!
Oh what a day! What a victory for Scotland!
A packed Centre Court at Wimbledon. The sun splitting a clear blue sky and two great warriors facing each other under the gaze of a spellbound worldwide TV audience.
Me and The Evil Sheriff of Bullingdon face to face at last. And the result?
Game set and match to Bravebelly!!
As match point in the tennis approached I sneaked the folded Scottish Saltire from my ample girth and waved it proudly behind Bullingdon's head.
Take that you despot! Take that Tory Unionist Junta!
Underestimate the great Bravebelly at your peril! Ha!
The skinny guy with the gold trophy ignored me - as did everyone else come to think of it.
Still, in the tradition of Wallace, Bruce and, yes fellow freedom fighters, even Nelson Mandela, I have struck a blow for freedom deep in the belly of the beast.
All proper Scots should be suitably proud of their great leader tonight!!
A packed Centre Court at Wimbledon. The sun splitting a clear blue sky and two great warriors facing each other under the gaze of a spellbound worldwide TV audience.
Me and The Evil Sheriff of Bullingdon face to face at last. And the result?
Game set and match to Bravebelly!!
As match point in the tennis approached I sneaked the folded Scottish Saltire from my ample girth and waved it proudly behind Bullingdon's head.
Take that you despot! Take that Tory Unionist Junta!
Underestimate the great Bravebelly at your peril! Ha!
The skinny guy with the gold trophy ignored me - as did everyone else come to think of it.
Still, in the tradition of Wallace, Bruce and, yes fellow freedom fighters, even Nelson Mandela, I have struck a blow for freedom deep in the belly of the beast.
All proper Scots should be suitably proud of their great leader tonight!!
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
PHOTO OPPORTUNITY
It took me a good few hours to cool off after hearing of my Cabinet's incompetent handling of the 16 - 17 year old voters but my mood was lifted by a carefully planned visit to an environment where the the collective IQ was going to be a lot higher than in the cabinet room yesterday afternoon.
Yes, it was time for Scotland's Great Leader to visit those powerhouses of Free Caledonian tourism, the Chinese pandas Sunshine and Sweetie.
By God how I could do with a couple like that in my Yes Campaign. No calls for a separate currency; no enfranchising an age group which are overwhelmingly opposed to independence and no berating the Managing Director of West Coast Buses for running a shi**y bus service.
These two just sit there eating bamboo and stare vacantly into space. Professor Stiglitz take note.
At the same time I was posing for photos with the massive headed duo, I'd agreed to let Princess Nicola and Monaco tax exile Jim McBlowhard go head to head with the leading lights of the Tory Unionist Westminster Junta.
Princess Nicola was debating Alistair Darling on the currency issue. Never a good idea. But who else was there?
Meanwhile, McBlowhard was met by a room full of quizzical looks when he suggested to the audience that independence actually meant that Scotland would still be in the UK. Now I've stretched the boundaries of logical argument a few times in my illustrious career (claiming that the UK would bow to my every demand on a sterling zone for example) but this was plain fantasy. Fantasy turned to farce when he then claimed that the tax on his car in Monaco was rather high.The sooner he's back in Monaco with Craig Whyte and his tax averse pals the better.
As for Princess Nicola, I'm afraid it was the usual mess. Putting on her fake stutter, she chuntered on about how it would be "incredible" for rUK to reject a currency union whilst the ex chancellor simply pointed out that the £ would be under the complete control of rUK and it it would be they who would dictate the terms of any approved currency union to a divorcing partner who accounts for only 10% of UK GDP. A lamb to the slaughter.
And that's exactly why I chose to be here at Edinburgh Zoo with my two new acquiescent pals.
I wonder if there's room in there for three?
Yes, it was time for Scotland's Great Leader to visit those powerhouses of Free Caledonian tourism, the Chinese pandas Sunshine and Sweetie.
By God how I could do with a couple like that in my Yes Campaign. No calls for a separate currency; no enfranchising an age group which are overwhelmingly opposed to independence and no berating the Managing Director of West Coast Buses for running a shi**y bus service.
These two just sit there eating bamboo and stare vacantly into space. Professor Stiglitz take note.
At the same time I was posing for photos with the massive headed duo, I'd agreed to let Princess Nicola and Monaco tax exile Jim McBlowhard go head to head with the leading lights of the Tory Unionist Westminster Junta.
Princess Nicola was debating Alistair Darling on the currency issue. Never a good idea. But who else was there?
Meanwhile, McBlowhard was met by a room full of quizzical looks when he suggested to the audience that independence actually meant that Scotland would still be in the UK. Now I've stretched the boundaries of logical argument a few times in my illustrious career (claiming that the UK would bow to my every demand on a sterling zone for example) but this was plain fantasy. Fantasy turned to farce when he then claimed that the tax on his car in Monaco was rather high.The sooner he's back in Monaco with Craig Whyte and his tax averse pals the better.
As for Princess Nicola, I'm afraid it was the usual mess. Putting on her fake stutter, she chuntered on about how it would be "incredible" for rUK to reject a currency union whilst the ex chancellor simply pointed out that the £ would be under the complete control of rUK and it it would be they who would dictate the terms of any approved currency union to a divorcing partner who accounts for only 10% of UK GDP. A lamb to the slaughter.
And that's exactly why I chose to be here at Edinburgh Zoo with my two new acquiescent pals.
I wonder if there's room in there for three?
Monday, 3 June 2013
OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES
There was a stony silence in the cabinet room of Bute House this morning.
Big John Swindly looked like he'd swallowed a lemon whilst Princess Nicola was clearly close to tears.
Even my Witchfinder General, Dear Joan McAggro looked down in the mouth. Had she run out of nails and wood I wondered?
It was time for your leader to lighten the mood.
"What's wrong Joan? Run out of Unionists and dissenters to persecute?" I quipped. "Cheer up, the re enactment of the Battle of Bannockburn is only a few months away. Just think of all the anti English sentiment we'll be able to stir up with that stunt. Talking of which, I'm assuming you've arranged a suitably hateful reception for the Evil Farage when he lands in Aberdeen?"
"Yes, Boss. Be assured of that."
"So why all the glum faces?"
"It's the Youth Boss. They don't want independence." said Minister for Education, "Reg Varney" Russell.
"What do you mean they don't want independence?"
He continued: "We got the Sheriff of Bullingdon to agree with our proposal to let 16 and 17 year olds vote in the referendum but the latest poll suggests that they are solidly behind the Union. 60% of them no less. Only 21% of them favour independence! The game's a bogey."
I could feel a very big wobble coming on. "Now hang on a minute. Did you not conduct a poll of your own with these bairns before we agreed to give them the vote?"
Blank looks all round.
It beggars belief. The quality of individual around this table is enough to make me greet. Mediocrities, the lot of them.
"So there was no poll? No research. No forethought or basis for our decision making?"
Again, blank looks all round, except for Dear Joan who was now driving the sharp point of a letter opener into the mahogany table with a look on her face that I hadn't seen the like of since Jack Nicholson threw a radge at the bathroom door in "The Shining".
"But Boss, you keep telling us to keep things vague. Keep them in the dark; detail lite, that's what you told us." squeaked Princess Nicola.
It was too late. Wobble turned to meltdown:
I exploded : "But that's what we do to the masses you clown. Treat them like fools but don't act like ones yourselves! I just don't believe this. First that bampot Stiglitz dumps on my ideas on Corporation Tax and now you lot hand tens of thousands of votes to the opposition."
"Joan, stop digging chunks out of the table and follow me next door. You're going to be busy. The rest of you can leave. NOW!"
Big John Swindly looked like he'd swallowed a lemon whilst Princess Nicola was clearly close to tears.
Even my Witchfinder General, Dear Joan McAggro looked down in the mouth. Had she run out of nails and wood I wondered?
It was time for your leader to lighten the mood.
"What's wrong Joan? Run out of Unionists and dissenters to persecute?" I quipped. "Cheer up, the re enactment of the Battle of Bannockburn is only a few months away. Just think of all the anti English sentiment we'll be able to stir up with that stunt. Talking of which, I'm assuming you've arranged a suitably hateful reception for the Evil Farage when he lands in Aberdeen?"
"Yes, Boss. Be assured of that."
"So why all the glum faces?"
"It's the Youth Boss. They don't want independence." said Minister for Education, "Reg Varney" Russell.
"What do you mean they don't want independence?"
He continued: "We got the Sheriff of Bullingdon to agree with our proposal to let 16 and 17 year olds vote in the referendum but the latest poll suggests that they are solidly behind the Union. 60% of them no less. Only 21% of them favour independence! The game's a bogey."
I could feel a very big wobble coming on. "Now hang on a minute. Did you not conduct a poll of your own with these bairns before we agreed to give them the vote?"
Blank looks all round.
It beggars belief. The quality of individual around this table is enough to make me greet. Mediocrities, the lot of them.
"So there was no poll? No research. No forethought or basis for our decision making?"
Again, blank looks all round, except for Dear Joan who was now driving the sharp point of a letter opener into the mahogany table with a look on her face that I hadn't seen the like of since Jack Nicholson threw a radge at the bathroom door in "The Shining".
"But Boss, you keep telling us to keep things vague. Keep them in the dark; detail lite, that's what you told us." squeaked Princess Nicola.
It was too late. Wobble turned to meltdown:
I exploded : "But that's what we do to the masses you clown. Treat them like fools but don't act like ones yourselves! I just don't believe this. First that bampot Stiglitz dumps on my ideas on Corporation Tax and now you lot hand tens of thousands of votes to the opposition."
"Joan, stop digging chunks out of the table and follow me next door. You're going to be busy. The rest of you can leave. NOW!"
Wednesday, 29 May 2013
A BIT RICH
Herding cats. That's what it's like working with this Yes Campaign mob. First it was Fox, Canavan et al contradicting me on my £ sterling currency policy by calling for me to introduce a separate currency for my independent Scotland - or the "Barnes Wallis Skinto" as it's termed in these parts.
Now we've got Monaco based, income tax exile Jim McBlowhard suggesting that I could abolish capital gains tax and set corporation tax at 3% below the UK rate.
Now that's a bit rich coming from him. He hasn't paid any UK income tax in years and it's no coincidence that his company would benefit greatly from these two tax cuts. But how would I pay for all that and how would I sell it to my core left wing supporters? And anyway, what's the point when corporate giants like Amazon, Starbucks and Google dodge local corporation tax almost completely? Moreover, if I adopt the £ and therefore have to get my annual budgets approved by London, then my economists tell me that it would be "inconceivable" that Westminster would let me away with those tax policies. I mean, it's all very well pontificating on Scottish Government policy from the luxury of Monaco but I'm the poor sod who'd have to make the thing work, and adopting what is effectively a Tory based business policy isn't going to cut the mustard with my nationalist minions. No Jim. Stick to watching the cars go round and round the streets of your tax haven and leave the business of government to the big lads.
Now, what's all this about emigration post a Yes vote? Given that eventuality, Sir Chris Hoy has threatened to hop on his racing bike and peddle hard for Manchester. So be it. He was always too much of a team player for me. Next up, I see the Tory, Unionist propagandists at the BBC are peddling a story about 300,000 young Irish people emigrating from the economically diminished Republic of Ireland. Their clear intention is to draw an analogy with the prospect of a similarly diminished economy in my New Mediaeval Scotland, especially once the oil dries up in 2050.
Now all that brain drain stuff may be true but the question you have to ask yourself is whether or not we actually need bright, young and ambitious people who want to succeed on a global stage. Let them go and work for what would be an even more London centric UK. Let them go to the most integrated and cosmopolitan cities and leave us to our divorced cottage industries and dreams of converting heather into biomass.
Shortbread or finance? I know what I prefer.
Thursday, 23 May 2013
TERMINUS
Well that was a bloody disaster.
A morning spent in a bus factory in Falkirk with Princess Nicola by my side and a bunch of cynical workers firing darts at my glossy new brochure entitled "The Darien Scheme 2014."
I mean, it was supposed to be a case of turning up and getting a few pictures taken. No one told me about the questions. I hate questions.
"How can an independent Scotland hope to avoid taking its £ 150 bn share of UK National Debt?"
"What would be an independent Scotland's plan if the Bank of England refused to underwrite that debt?"
"What happens when the oil runs out in 2050?"
"What will you do if RBS and HBOS leave for London?"
"Why on earth would you give up Scotland's control of the £ and hand it over to a unilateral Bank of England?".
For the sake of Boaby Bruce. These are supposed to be workies. They shouldn't be able to ask me questions like this!
Nicola the Naive obviously had another flakey. She started wittering on about spending even more millions on welfare because too many Scots live in poverty due to the policies of the hated English. Poverty! I'll show her poverty. I'm shipping her off to my mate in Malawi to see what real poverty is all about. Or Ireland, either will do.
But no, the questions kept coming.
"How can you hope to set up an Oil Fund when you'd be running an annual deficit?"
"Why won't you tell us what the EU have said about an independent Scotland becoming a member of the Eurozone?"
"How many pies do you eat every week?"
Now I could answer that one. Cheeky git.
"How can political divorce possibly help trade between Scotland and the rest of the UK, especially when you admit that we are utterly dependent on that cross border trade for our economic health?"
"Would Scotland's economy grow faster or slower if it was an independent country? If so then how?"
"In an independent Scotland what would be the main drivers of economic growth over the next 50 - 100 years?"
"How would an independent Scotland meet it's public sector spending needs as North Sea oil declines over the next 20 - 30 years?"
"Can you demonstrate if and how renewable energy could replace declining oil and gas reserves?"
"Why are you wobbling?"
I bloody well was wobbling. Proper furious.
"How can you claim to be able to undercut rUK and German on corporation tax when you won't own your own currency and will therefore need to get budget approval from either Westminster or Brussels?"
Right, that was enough. Bloody workers. Call my chauffeur.
A morning spent in a bus factory in Falkirk with Princess Nicola by my side and a bunch of cynical workers firing darts at my glossy new brochure entitled "The Darien Scheme 2014."
I mean, it was supposed to be a case of turning up and getting a few pictures taken. No one told me about the questions. I hate questions.
"How can an independent Scotland hope to avoid taking its £ 150 bn share of UK National Debt?"
"What would be an independent Scotland's plan if the Bank of England refused to underwrite that debt?"
"What happens when the oil runs out in 2050?"
"What will you do if RBS and HBOS leave for London?"
"Why on earth would you give up Scotland's control of the £ and hand it over to a unilateral Bank of England?".
For the sake of Boaby Bruce. These are supposed to be workies. They shouldn't be able to ask me questions like this!
Nicola the Naive obviously had another flakey. She started wittering on about spending even more millions on welfare because too many Scots live in poverty due to the policies of the hated English. Poverty! I'll show her poverty. I'm shipping her off to my mate in Malawi to see what real poverty is all about. Or Ireland, either will do.
But no, the questions kept coming.
"How can you hope to set up an Oil Fund when you'd be running an annual deficit?"
"Why won't you tell us what the EU have said about an independent Scotland becoming a member of the Eurozone?"
"How many pies do you eat every week?"
Now I could answer that one. Cheeky git.
"How can political divorce possibly help trade between Scotland and the rest of the UK, especially when you admit that we are utterly dependent on that cross border trade for our economic health?"
"Would Scotland's economy grow faster or slower if it was an independent country? If so then how?"
"In an independent Scotland what would be the main drivers of economic growth over the next 50 - 100 years?"
"How would an independent Scotland meet it's public sector spending needs as North Sea oil declines over the next 20 - 30 years?"
"Can you demonstrate if and how renewable energy could replace declining oil and gas reserves?"
"Why are you wobbling?"
I bloody well was wobbling. Proper furious.
"How can you claim to be able to undercut rUK and German on corporation tax when you won't own your own currency and will therefore need to get budget approval from either Westminster or Brussels?"
Right, that was enough. Bloody workers. Call my chauffeur.
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
FAIRY STORIES
Gordon McPaxo:"Good evening and welcome to Newsnight Scotland.
Tonight I'm joined by Nicola the Naive who is going to tell us why everything bad that has happened to Scotland over the last 30 years is the fault of the Westminster government.
So, Ms Naive, can you tell us how the Westminster system of government "is hindering Scotland's potential"."
Nicola the Naive: " Well Gordon, the UK government has decided to engage in a boom in credit and debt expansion and now pursues a policy of austerity and debt reduction rather than focusing on growing the economy. It has also decided to concentrate economic activity in London as opposed to Scotland. Finally, the UK government has failed to establish an oil fund for future generations, similar to the Norwegian fund now worth an estimated £450bn. "
McPaxo:" OK, Ms Naive. So the credit crisis was the fault of the UK Government?"
Naive:"Yes, absolutely."
McPaxo:"So the credit crisis wasn't a global phenomenon triggered by the US, UK and European banks creating a sub prime property bubble?"
Naive:"No, I don't think so."
McPaxo:"OK. That's rather a unique view Ms Naive. Moving on, did not your leader, the Great Bravebelly, actually send a letter to Fred Goodwin encouraging him to buy ABN Amro, the over priced, debt laden bank that helped bankrupt the Royal Bank of Scotland and bring the global credit crisis to the UK?"
Naive:"Did he?"
McPaxo:"Yes, he did, the memo is dated May 2007."
Naive:"Oh."
McPaxo:"And are you saying that you agree with Ed Balloon and that the UK government should be borrowing many more billions to spend on the public sector instead of paying down the debts caused by the British people having to bail out RBS and HBOS to the tune of £ 61 billion?"
Naive:"Erm. Yes, I think so. It's for the kiddies. Just think of the kiddies."
McPaxo:"That would be the single parent families already claiming benefits?"
Naive:"Oh yes. It would. They need even more benefits and I'm just the person to give it to them."
McPaxo:"And if you were going to borrow that money then where would you get it from?"
Naive:"Erm. I don't know."
McPaxo (peering over glasses) :"Yehhs. Very interesting Ms Naive. And so to London. You seem to be implying that it is a matter of governmental choice as to where the UK's economic centre should be located. What would you propose, phoning up Citibank, HSBC, Standard Chartered at al and ordering them to set up their operations in Shettleston instead of the City of London?
Naive:"I suppose so."
McPaxo:"What do you think they'd say to that?"
Naive:"Er..."
McPaxo:"It would be short conversation Ms Naive. Now, onto the oil. Why did your party not propose setting up a UK Oil Fund before it peaked in 1999 and declining production levels made it an impractical pipe dream? Isn't it because you wanted all of the remaining oil for yourselves and to hell with the rest of the UK citizenry?"
Naive:"Er...yes. That's right actually."
McPaxo:"Thank you Ms Naive. That has been very insightful. Now, I understand that you've got an urgent meeting with the fairies at the bottom of your garden so let's leave it there. Goodnight."
TAXI FOR HESTER
The morning had started so well. Thumbing through my Racing Post, I'd spotted a young filly called Quean Fifi in the 2.30 at Musselburgh and fair fancied a punt. Blind Jock duly obliged and arranged for a few quid each way. That would give me something to look forward to during this afternoon's tedious Question Time in the Panda House.
Labour leader Wee Jimmy Krankie having a pop on my cancer care record and the Lib Dems' Willie Rennie still banging on about me refusing to condemn my proud mob of Orcs for chasing the Evil Farage back to England.
Just wait until I get voted in as President. I'll not need to bother even turning up to meet these swivel eyed loons. I will be innundated with invitations from fellow world statesmen to discuss the big issues. Important people in my Arc of Insolvency such as the Presidents of Ireland and Iceland.
And one of the first issues I'll want to discuss with them is how to run a country without a bank. I say this because Big John Swindly tells me that Lloyds and RBS will be for the off if it looks like I'm going to win my battle for Freedom.
Apparently Scottish banking assets are equivalent to 1,250% of Scottish GDP and RBS alone, according to its latest published balance sheet, has loans and investments of £1.3 trillion. That's equivalent to more than eight times Scottish GDP.
This means that my New Mediaeval Scotland couldn't afford to bail out RBS and therefore their borrowing costs would rise to the point where they'd be on the first train to King's Cross and a new London HQ.
It's really not that complex. Big John tells me that when investors and companies lend to a bank and invest in them, they look at what would happen to that bank if it all went 'Fred Goodwin' again and got into another serious financial mess.
Evidently they look at whether the bank's national government could bail the bank out in a crisis - thus reducing losses for the bank's creditors.
Clearly guaranteeing £ 1.3 trillion is way out of my league so the market would dictate that RBS would have to pack its bags and move to London where the UK government would be able to provide that bail out guarantee.
Chances are that many of the the Scottish based fund managers and insurance companies would follow suit and the only real winner would therefore be London's financial sector.
Sore one isn't it? The end of the great Scottish banking industry and no one with the faintest idea what we do when that happens.
Labour leader Wee Jimmy Krankie having a pop on my cancer care record and the Lib Dems' Willie Rennie still banging on about me refusing to condemn my proud mob of Orcs for chasing the Evil Farage back to England.
Just wait until I get voted in as President. I'll not need to bother even turning up to meet these swivel eyed loons. I will be innundated with invitations from fellow world statesmen to discuss the big issues. Important people in my Arc of Insolvency such as the Presidents of Ireland and Iceland.
And one of the first issues I'll want to discuss with them is how to run a country without a bank. I say this because Big John Swindly tells me that Lloyds and RBS will be for the off if it looks like I'm going to win my battle for Freedom.
Apparently Scottish banking assets are equivalent to 1,250% of Scottish GDP and RBS alone, according to its latest published balance sheet, has loans and investments of £1.3 trillion. That's equivalent to more than eight times Scottish GDP.
This means that my New Mediaeval Scotland couldn't afford to bail out RBS and therefore their borrowing costs would rise to the point where they'd be on the first train to King's Cross and a new London HQ.
Lloyds are already based in London so they'll be first to go, but it will stick in my craw to see RBS leave Scotland after all the encouragement I gave to The Shred in his takeover of ABN Amro.
It's really not that complex. Big John tells me that when investors and companies lend to a bank and invest in them, they look at what would happen to that bank if it all went 'Fred Goodwin' again and got into another serious financial mess.
Evidently they look at whether the bank's national government could bail the bank out in a crisis - thus reducing losses for the bank's creditors.
Clearly guaranteeing £ 1.3 trillion is way out of my league so the market would dictate that RBS would have to pack its bags and move to London where the UK government would be able to provide that bail out guarantee.
Chances are that many of the the Scottish based fund managers and insurance companies would follow suit and the only real winner would therefore be London's financial sector.
Sore one isn't it? The end of the great Scottish banking industry and no one with the faintest idea what we do when that happens.
Saturday, 18 May 2013
RACIST? SNP?
That's more like it!
Enough of the rational and diplomatic debate. Let's have more English baiting. Let's silence all opposition with insults, abuse and the threat of violence.
Oh how my braveheart swelled with pride when I saw my storm troopers from Radical Independence forcing the evil, English invader Farage to retreat into an Edinburgh hostelry. Who says the spirit of Bannockburn is dead! My brown shirted Scottish youth sent him home to think again.
The press dared to ask me to condemn the action of my Wee Willie Wallaces. Never!!
That's my kind of bully boy politics. That's just what the mob want to see.
Now, anyone that has seen the Evil Farage on You Tube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRjvFK9fYLQ) will realise that he is, in fact, a rather amusing, if misguided politician. He has a fundamental problem with the fact that an unelected EU elite is quietly imposing their laws on European nation states who's elected governments can do nothing to stop it.
He lampoons his opponents whilst I sneer at them. He mocks them as I intimidate and threaten them.
Of course, his stance on immigration from Romania and Bulgaria makes it easy for me and my cherished berserker cybernats to label him a racist whilst we make it absolutely clear that we are completely anti racist, except, of course, towards democratically elected English people who may wish enter into a debate and dare to put up candidates in my Aberdonian constituencies.
They, my friends, must be silenced, abused and chased from our lands.
That, my friends, is a foretaste of freedom in my New Mediaeval Scotland.
Enough of the rational and diplomatic debate. Let's have more English baiting. Let's silence all opposition with insults, abuse and the threat of violence.
Oh how my braveheart swelled with pride when I saw my storm troopers from Radical Independence forcing the evil, English invader Farage to retreat into an Edinburgh hostelry. Who says the spirit of Bannockburn is dead! My brown shirted Scottish youth sent him home to think again.
The press dared to ask me to condemn the action of my Wee Willie Wallaces. Never!!
That's my kind of bully boy politics. That's just what the mob want to see.
Now, anyone that has seen the Evil Farage on You Tube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRjvFK9fYLQ) will realise that he is, in fact, a rather amusing, if misguided politician. He has a fundamental problem with the fact that an unelected EU elite is quietly imposing their laws on European nation states who's elected governments can do nothing to stop it.
He lampoons his opponents whilst I sneer at them. He mocks them as I intimidate and threaten them.
Of course, his stance on immigration from Romania and Bulgaria makes it easy for me and my cherished berserker cybernats to label him a racist whilst we make it absolutely clear that we are completely anti racist, except, of course, towards democratically elected English people who may wish enter into a debate and dare to put up candidates in my Aberdonian constituencies.
They, my friends, must be silenced, abused and chased from our lands.
That, my friends, is a foretaste of freedom in my New Mediaeval Scotland.
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
BE A WEE FREE SCOTLANDER
Think Small !
That"s what I want. And, my loyal followers, it is your job to do what I want.
It was a source of no little pain to have to pay tribute to my great enemy Sir Alex Ferguson this week but, through gritted teeth, I managed to do it. Of course, I could not bring myself to recognise his monumental achievements at that club in England. I mean, lets face it. What Ferguson did at that club in England was as nothing in comparison to what he achieved at Aberdeen. It was his achievements in the Granite City that made him great.
Give the man credit for winning two Champions League trophies and thirteen English Premierships? Nae chance! Talented Scots working in England and achieving success on the world class, UK stage is absolute anathema to me. It is like poison through my veins dear friends. These ambitious, UK minded Scots undermine my whole argument for independence because they are shining examples of how Scots can thrive as part of the UK. They bring success, jobs, pride and inspiration to Scotland and the whole of the UK. No! No! No!
That's why I've made sure that all of these traitor Scots don't get to vote in 2014. I want none of their inclusive, ambitious and cosmopolitan views troubling the tiny minds of my myopic freedom fighters.
Now, I wonder what odds they'll give me on Aberdeen winning the Champions League on 2015?
Good ones I"ll bet.
Monday, 13 May 2013
IMAGINE
Like all great statesmen of the world one needs some precious time to unburden oneself from the daily travails of leading a nation.
To that end I have an unbreakable morning routine here at Bute House.
At 7.30am precisely one of my underlings brings me a bowl of piping hot porridge and copy of The Racing Post. I eat my porridge and then retire to the presidential cludgie to read up on the gee gees and rid myself of yesterday's concerns, as it were.
My underlings know that during that 20 minutes I am under no circumstances to be disturbed.
So, you can imagine my fury when 5 minutes into my cherished routine there is a sharp knock on the toilet door.
"Oh, Mr President," the underling whined "I'm so very, very sorry to disturb you, but I have Professor Alex Kemp on the phone. He's insisting that he talks to you immediately."
Wobbling with rage I fired back: "Tell him I can only deal with one shit at a time."
"Yes Sir" replies the trembling voice on the other side of the door.
"No, wait. What the bloody hell does he want?"
"He wants to talk to you about Fergus Ewing's speech at the Offshore Technology Conference in Houston. Ewing has claimed that North Sea oil will never, ever run out."
"What!!" I explode, for the third time in the space of 5 minutes.
"Yes, Scotland's pre eminent oil experts are furious. They say that you know full well that oil production will fall to around 125,000 barrels per day in 2050, from an output of 155 million barrels per day last year. They say that you and Ewing are completely aware that shortly after 2050 extracting North Sea Oil may not be worth the production cost. By the time our grandchildren are reaching adulthood North Sea oil will have gone the same way as coal mining did in the 1980's."
Now I know this. You don't.
But I do and and I certainly don't need a balloon like Ewing raising the topic at a time when Big John Swindly is still smarting from being caught fiddling £ 1.8bn of pension liabilities and the polls suggest that the proles remain wholly unconvinced of our arguments for a New Mediaeval Scotland.
"Sir" the underling continued.
"What?!"
"It gets worse. Princess Nicola saw the latest IPSOS poll putting support for the Yes campaign at only 31% and she's gone completely do lally. She's wandering around barefoot in the grounds of Holyrood with daises in her hair muttering something about a natural majority of Scots being in favour of independence."
"Oh Christ!" I exclaim, "There's no press about are there? Not after the last time."
"No Sir"
I did indeed find Princess Nicola as my man servant had described. It was a sad sight indeed.
She wandered up to me and, as if lost in a trance, said: " Oh Great Prince Bravebelly, I don't believe the polls. I am convinced, from talking to people across the country, that there is a natural majority in Scotland for independence. What do I mean by that? I don't really know what I mean by that. I suppose I mean that people will vote Yes if we can all just imagine. Imagine that independence opens the door to a wealthier and fairer country."
I dripped words of comfort into her troubled ear. "But it doesn't love, I've told you that before. It's about emotion and resentment and, well, frankly, all about me. It not about economics. That bit doesn't work as well as what we've got within the UK."
To that end I have an unbreakable morning routine here at Bute House.
At 7.30am precisely one of my underlings brings me a bowl of piping hot porridge and copy of The Racing Post. I eat my porridge and then retire to the presidential cludgie to read up on the gee gees and rid myself of yesterday's concerns, as it were.
My underlings know that during that 20 minutes I am under no circumstances to be disturbed.
So, you can imagine my fury when 5 minutes into my cherished routine there is a sharp knock on the toilet door.
"Oh, Mr President," the underling whined "I'm so very, very sorry to disturb you, but I have Professor Alex Kemp on the phone. He's insisting that he talks to you immediately."
Wobbling with rage I fired back: "Tell him I can only deal with one shit at a time."
"Yes Sir" replies the trembling voice on the other side of the door.
"No, wait. What the bloody hell does he want?"
"He wants to talk to you about Fergus Ewing's speech at the Offshore Technology Conference in Houston. Ewing has claimed that North Sea oil will never, ever run out."
"What!!" I explode, for the third time in the space of 5 minutes.
"Yes, Scotland's pre eminent oil experts are furious. They say that you know full well that oil production will fall to around 125,000 barrels per day in 2050, from an output of 155 million barrels per day last year. They say that you and Ewing are completely aware that shortly after 2050 extracting North Sea Oil may not be worth the production cost. By the time our grandchildren are reaching adulthood North Sea oil will have gone the same way as coal mining did in the 1980's."
Now I know this. You don't.
But I do and and I certainly don't need a balloon like Ewing raising the topic at a time when Big John Swindly is still smarting from being caught fiddling £ 1.8bn of pension liabilities and the polls suggest that the proles remain wholly unconvinced of our arguments for a New Mediaeval Scotland.
"Sir" the underling continued.
"What?!"
"It gets worse. Princess Nicola saw the latest IPSOS poll putting support for the Yes campaign at only 31% and she's gone completely do lally. She's wandering around barefoot in the grounds of Holyrood with daises in her hair muttering something about a natural majority of Scots being in favour of independence."
"Oh Christ!" I exclaim, "There's no press about are there? Not after the last time."
"No Sir"
I did indeed find Princess Nicola as my man servant had described. It was a sad sight indeed.
She wandered up to me and, as if lost in a trance, said: " Oh Great Prince Bravebelly, I don't believe the polls. I am convinced, from talking to people across the country, that there is a natural majority in Scotland for independence. What do I mean by that? I don't really know what I mean by that. I suppose I mean that people will vote Yes if we can all just imagine. Imagine that independence opens the door to a wealthier and fairer country."
I dripped words of comfort into her troubled ear. "But it doesn't love, I've told you that before. It's about emotion and resentment and, well, frankly, all about me. It not about economics. That bit doesn't work as well as what we've got within the UK."
She continued: " But Boss, I may be a dreamer but I'm not the only one. I believe that Scotland should be governed here
at home, from our own Parliament, and not from Westminster; that we
should hold the powers in our own hands to shape a nation that lives up
to our ambitions of fairness and prosperity; that we should have no one
else to blame if we fail to do so; and that we should have a new
relationship of equals with our friends across these islands. Imagine all the people, living life in peace. Why don't they join us? "
Yoko has clearly gone loco and I'm getting slightly bored with this toon loon. It was time for a wee dose of reality. Time for her to take off the rose tinted spectacles:
"Because they want to keep their jobs and their pensions to be honest. Now pull yourself together woman. We need a new strategy and we need it fast"
Yoko has clearly gone loco and I'm getting slightly bored with this toon loon. It was time for a wee dose of reality. Time for her to take off the rose tinted spectacles:
"Because they want to keep their jobs and their pensions to be honest. Now pull yourself together woman. We need a new strategy and we need it fast"
Saturday, 4 May 2013
LAYING THE GHOST
At last some good news.
My copy of "Scotland's Future: The Economics of Constitutional Change" was delivered to Bute House today and I managed to have a wee shufty in between rants down the phone to the timber laden Dear Joan.
Crivens. I was bored stiff after three pages of this stodge. I haven't been so bored since Donald Dewar's inauguration speech as Scotland's first, First Minister.........not that I'm bitter about Donald you understand.
Bitter about that lucky, Labour opportunist getting all the glory (and a statue) for bringing devolution to Scotland and my consequent resignation as party leader the following year. No, I'm not bitter at all. [Wobble]
So why am I so cheery? Well, because, whilst the content of "Scotland's Future" is well researched, even handed and highly intellectually credible, most Scots won't get past the first few pages. Most 16 and 17 year olds won't get past the front cover! Reading it is like eating hay - something the Unionist scaremongers claim we'll all be doing when the oil runs out.
Our modern desire for soundbites and spoon fed gobbets of easily understood information means that the problems, complexities and uncertainties surrounding my dream of a Free Caledonia will never trouble the synapses of 99% of Scots. The currency problems, the dire economic consequences, the fiscal dilemmas.
Take the chapter written by my old nemesis Professor John Kay entitled "Currency and Monetary Policy Options for an Independent Scotland".
* He points out that adopting the £ or the Euro would necessarily entail agreement of terms from the far more powerful partners to whom we would be wholly subservient, powerless and dependent.
* He correctly points out that financial markets, businesses and individuals would immediately destabilise my Skinto or any other currency change that presented risk or opportunity to them. In short, I'd be like Norman Lamont on Black Wednesday.
* He recalls the ugly memory of the Irish pound which some will remember traded at a discount to the UK £ making everything you bought in Ireland more expensive and the Irish pound unusable in the rest of the UK.
* He points out that Free Caledonia's £ 4bn share of the UK's foreign exchange reserves would be woefully inadequate to maintain a currency peg to the £ leaving us with a weakened currency at the mercy of the markets.
* He points out the absurdity of joining the Euro at a time when many, including the Germans, wish they could get out.
* He successfully argues that the best option for Scotland on currency would be the status quo.
All completely valid points but, as he himself admits, this referendum is not about the best economic outcome for Scotland. It's about politics and about my personal quest to settle matters with Donald Dewar's legacy by freeing my nation from English thrall. Raw and flawed emotion over sound common sense.
The fact that no one in Scotland is going to read this book is pure dead brilliant!
My copy of "Scotland's Future: The Economics of Constitutional Change" was delivered to Bute House today and I managed to have a wee shufty in between rants down the phone to the timber laden Dear Joan.
Crivens. I was bored stiff after three pages of this stodge. I haven't been so bored since Donald Dewar's inauguration speech as Scotland's first, First Minister.........not that I'm bitter about Donald you understand.
Bitter about that lucky, Labour opportunist getting all the glory (and a statue) for bringing devolution to Scotland and my consequent resignation as party leader the following year. No, I'm not bitter at all. [Wobble]
So why am I so cheery? Well, because, whilst the content of "Scotland's Future" is well researched, even handed and highly intellectually credible, most Scots won't get past the first few pages. Most 16 and 17 year olds won't get past the front cover! Reading it is like eating hay - something the Unionist scaremongers claim we'll all be doing when the oil runs out.
Our modern desire for soundbites and spoon fed gobbets of easily understood information means that the problems, complexities and uncertainties surrounding my dream of a Free Caledonia will never trouble the synapses of 99% of Scots. The currency problems, the dire economic consequences, the fiscal dilemmas.
Take the chapter written by my old nemesis Professor John Kay entitled "Currency and Monetary Policy Options for an Independent Scotland".
* He points out that adopting the £ or the Euro would necessarily entail agreement of terms from the far more powerful partners to whom we would be wholly subservient, powerless and dependent.
* He correctly points out that financial markets, businesses and individuals would immediately destabilise my Skinto or any other currency change that presented risk or opportunity to them. In short, I'd be like Norman Lamont on Black Wednesday.
* He recalls the ugly memory of the Irish pound which some will remember traded at a discount to the UK £ making everything you bought in Ireland more expensive and the Irish pound unusable in the rest of the UK.
* He points out that Free Caledonia's £ 4bn share of the UK's foreign exchange reserves would be woefully inadequate to maintain a currency peg to the £ leaving us with a weakened currency at the mercy of the markets.
* He points out the absurdity of joining the Euro at a time when many, including the Germans, wish they could get out.
* He successfully argues that the best option for Scotland on currency would be the status quo.
All completely valid points but, as he himself admits, this referendum is not about the best economic outcome for Scotland. It's about politics and about my personal quest to settle matters with Donald Dewar's legacy by freeing my nation from English thrall. Raw and flawed emotion over sound common sense.
The fact that no one in Scotland is going to read this book is pure dead brilliant!
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