Well hasn’t that been fun? The referendum on Scottish Independence which promised to be a score draw instead turned into a narrow away win for the ‘No’ faction. So no three points on the pools coupon. No big payout. Upon sober reflection perhaps a bullet has been dodged, but I rather feel significant opportunities have been missed.
Just think of the jobs that could have been created by the ‘Yes’ voters as they;
- Rebuilt Hadrians Wall to keep those English bastards out.
- Found real, meaningful jobs for the proposed glut of repatriated Ginger people (Like Chris Evans).
- Gone back to the growth industries of cross border cattle and sheep raiding
- Created a massive urban renewal programme when they found out there wasn’t enough oil left to keep them in the style to which they wished to become accustomed.
- Created a new ‘Auld Alliance’ with that other failing European socialist republic (France)
What the narrow ‘No” vote means is;
Alas, poor Alex Salmond will not be the first Minister of a newly independent Scotland (Shame).
David Camoron keeps his job (Heavy sigh).
The Queen will not have to put Balmoral on the market (Huzzah for Liz).
No inadvertent ‘Brexit’ caused by invalidated EU treaties (Bugger).
No doubt there will be many petty recriminations from disappointed ‘Yes’ voters against those who did not vote or who voted ‘No’ and perhaps many useful construction jobs will created by the resulting riots for Polish tradesmen who actually learned to solder a joint, lay a brick, cut a straight piece of wood, fix a pipe and actually turn up on time for a job.
However, let’s look on the bright side; at least Scottish MP’s may not have to drag their arses down to Wastemonster in future to bother voting on issues that only concern the Sassenachs. Which means, oh. Not so good. Scottish MP’s will have to take a cut in expenses (Shame, boo hiss). Oh dearie me. Tsk.
Okay, suppose the ‘Yes’ vote does have it, and Alex Salmond leads the Scots towards an oil-funded socialist utopia. Which has worked out really well for the Venezuelans hasn’t it?
Will this mean;
- The expulsion of any person with an accent deemed ‘Too English’ or ‘Not Scottish enough’. Trust me, this does happen. I have a relative who left Scotland in the early 00’s because he was sick of the prejudice against him (Graffiti on house, social exclusion, overt hostility) because his Dundee University educated accent sounded ‘Too English’
- The resumption of cross border cattle (or sheep) raiding as an (Even greater) economic growth area?
- Civil unrest when the Scots find out there’s not so much oil to fund their economy and all the real money goes South?
- Subsequent forcible repatriation north of the English / Scottish border for anyone who is Ginger?
Pre results musing.
If the Scots have voted ‘Yes’ to devolution and the United Kingdom is no longer the UK any more…..
Does this mean;
That all treaties signed on behalf of the UK since the Act of Union in 1707 may now become null and void because the UK will no longer be the same UK as it was when say, the Lisbon and Maastricht treaties etcetera were signed? Those treaties were signed for the UK as England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, not as England, Wales and Northern Ireland.
I know it’s a pretty fine hair to split but could these treaties be seen as truly binding should the Scots get independence?
Brexit by cock-up. Now that’s an interesting thought.
Now don’t ask me where I got this as it’s top secret. In a last minute bid to ‘Save the Union’ David Cameron’s office has sent the following to SNP leader Alex Salmond;
Here’s my final offer. If the Yes vote wins, please doesn’t secede from the Union, Scotland can;
- Keep its Crown Jewels
- Have those new powers we talked about and a bigger chunk of the oil revenues
Only one condition; You lot keep Gordon Brown. This is non-negotiable.
If the Scots do vote a resounding ‘Yes’ for independence from the UK;
- Does this mean Hadrians Wall will need rebuilding?
- Do the Scots or the English (or both) have to pay for the necessary works?
There’s a lot of causes out there. Some good, some not so good, and some so downright fucked up they’re over the insanity event horizon and accelerating past lightspeed. It’s easy to feel snowed under sometimes. Anyway, I’ve done contributing to other peoples causes. Those that were supposed to be good weren’t that good. Those not so good turned out to be stupid and the rest aren’t even worth mentioning. Nowadays it’s hard to find one without a vested interest behind it, so I won’t be looking any more.
Having just been through a double bereavement with all that entails, I’ve been re-evaluating what I want from my life. Where I’m going, what I might do when I get there sort of thing. Becoming the joint senior member of our little clan has come as a major culture shock. No excuses, no deferment, it’s my ball and I have to make the rules now. If they need making. Which more often than not they don’t. My work as a parent has, and continues to be largely done. I’ve morphed role from family guard dog and occasional shepherd to long distance shoulder to cry on, which is as it should be. No doubt grandchildren are somewhere on the horizon, but please, not just yet. What gets me most is the odd sensation that I now have no-one to defer to, which makes me mildly uncomfortable. Adrift and hollow. Much better off financially, but directionless.
So, that begs the question. What do I do now? The world beckons. I’ve a hankering to live in Paris for a month or two next year. Ride those wonderfully curvy Swiss motorways on something like a Triumph Rocket III. Meander through Southern Europe, park the monster 2.3 litre sports cruiser motorcycle outside a little Bar Tabac and let the local kids stare slack jawed at it. Dance the centre line a little along the coast road from Marseille to Genoa. Thence down to Rome, see Naples and live a little. Maybe down to watch Stromboli and Etna spit fire before heading up the coast road with Venice and Vienna in mind. Wander round Prague and Berlin with a side trip through Warsaw. Up through Denmark and across the big bridges into Sweden. Visit a cousin of mine who lives in Gothenburg. Catch a freighter to Immingham and grey, damp olde England. Pay my respects to the wider clan. Ride a container ship back to Canada and run Highway One from Halifax Nova Scotia to mile zero again. Perhaps even zipping south of the border to revisit New York and swing in a wide arc from New Jersey to Texas then North through Nevada. Indulge my wanderlust. Write about what happens as it happens. Perhaps. Then I’ll pitch up on the Pacific shore again and think about the other side of the ring of fire. China, Japan, South East Asia, Australia and New Zealand.
Of course these are all mere dreams and may never come to pass, but I’ve done some instalments of that trip at various times in my life and truly want to do them again. While it’s still possible to do so.