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!"