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."