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?
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
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!"
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