Dear Diary,

I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t taken on this job. Everybody is being mean to me while I’m just trying my best to fulfil the will of the people. If only I knew what that was. The numbers and facts are so confusing. I thought it would be easy. But it’s not. It’s so hard! Hard Brexit. That’s all I meant by that.

And now everyone is pushing me this way and that. I’m heading down a one-way alley and I think I might get a kicking at the bottom of it.  Tackety boots are looming and my kidneys are turning to mush. I can feel it in my water.

Everything I said before is coming back to haunt me. Quotes that made sense then being used against me now. As if a lady can’t change her mind. I mean, that’s a foregone thingy. We get to do that. Look at Ruthie. She does it all the time. And nobody picks her up on it. Except those pesky Nats. Always wanting to clarify what was said then with what’s being said now. Things change. Don’t they, Diary?

I mean, if I flip back through your pages, I know that there will be a few things that are difficult to explain. But that’s the nature of politics. We fabricate. Embroider a bit. Lie occasionally. Sometimes a lot. Everybody knows that. I don’t know why some people are making such a fuss about it. Even people on my own side. Infamy! They all have it in for me. Such a carry on!

I think the EU have their knives ready too and I’m going to be carved up as soon as I say Article 50. It’s not looking good, Diary. I feel like I’ve been prepped for a feast and I’m the main meal. It’s not meant to be like this. It was meant to be glorious. Like back in the day. You know, empire and all pulling together under difficult circumstances. Vera Lynn and a singsong. Everybody was meant to rally!

Maybe I should resign. Leave it to those cads that buggered off after the vote. Let them wipe up their own jizz.

What to do, Diary? Tell me. Please. I’m not kidding. I don’t know who to trust any more. Gideon’s gone and got another job and I think he might have it in for me too! Little shit that he is. Probably penning hate mail as I write. What will I do? I don’t know if I can cope with any more facts from my own people. Bad enough the Others getting at me across the floor – bastards, I owe Angus Robertson one for that screeching comment – but having to fend off your own people is too much. Maggie didn’t have this in the beginning. Everybody sucked up her jacksie. I’m being hung out to dry!

I wasn’t all that brill as a home secretary but I thought I could get away with this role. Everybody would support me. Lots of people to back me up and make me look good. But they don’t. Even when I tell them the colour of Brexit some people insist on being obtuse. I need to keep saying the same things over and over and over and over and over again to get them to understand. And still they make out that I’m not being clear. I mean, how clear do I have to be? I’ve practically drawn a picture and coloured it in. And they just don’t understand that the colour is so important. It has to be red, white and blue.

And now that awful woman, with the fishy name, is threatening to take the blue out of my picture. It’s beyond the pale. Just who does she think she is? Anyone would think that she was the leader of a country or something. Instead of the leader of that shower of separatists who want to split my precious. How dare she! I am the ring keeper. The guardian of the one that binds us all. It’s my job. My privilege. I have been chosen. Well not chosen, exactly. I volunteered and the rest were woeful. Chosen by default. Anyway, I’m it. And I know I can do this. I just need to keep repeating positive mantras, try not to say say ah and um too often and I might get away with it.

Diary, I think I need to go call on some friends and get the word out  here and there that the Scots are splitters. Poor splitters at that. Poor I tell you. Incapable. Such a drain on us. Unappreciative of the gracious bounty we bestow on them. Willing to jeopardise my our glorious Brexit. Unwilling to be used as collateral. I don’t even know why we keep them around. Well, obviously, I do, but that shall be our little secret, Diary. Yes, I know that our credit rating looks dodgy if they leave but they don’t know that, do they? Do they? They do. Oh, shit! Back soon, Diary. Wonder if Gordon can remember his lines.

 

Dear Tess,

Don’t take this personally but I can’t cope any more with your mental meanderings. Word to the wise. Stop. Don't write anything else down. Don't speak. Just stop. 

Don't look for me. To save you from further embarrassment, I've thrown myself onto a bonfire.

Good luck. You're gonna need it. 

Diary

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You Need Us – Stop Abusing Us, Mister

What do you call it when someone says mean things about you?

What do you call it when someone says mean things about you that aren’t true?

What do you call it when someone takes from you but tries to make you feel bad about it?

What do you call it when someone tries to get others on side by lying about you?

There might be many alternative names for each of the questions.

Or one word that sums the whole lot up.

Abuse.

Look up the definition.

Noun or verb. Take your pick.

Scotland is NOT subsidised by the rest of the UK.

Yet again this morning I’ve heard that from another politician.

In fact, the records for the last 30 years tell the complete opposite.

Scotland’s Balance Sheet

Labour forced to admit Scotland isn’t subsidised.

The figures used are provided by GERS  – the same figures the UK government uses but manipulates to tell one side of a story.

The information is there. It has been there for years. Try the sixties – pre-oil boom. It is known by those who slander our name. It is known here. It needs to be known elsewhere. And widely.

One sure way to irrevocably break the union that the political mainsteam and media are so fond of is to continue to perpetuate the myth that we here in Scotland are the ‘subsidy junkies’, so earnestly spouted by every politician with a vested interest in maintaining the staus quo.

I am sick of listening to the lies.

I wanted independence so that we could manage our own affairs and not be dependent on the UK government allocating us a share that is less than what we contribute. Not because I don’t want to share. But because Scotland needs to run its own affairs completely to effect real change for the future of our children. Waiting for English controlled government via a bi-party monopoly to do so we will wait forever. Based on population size that’s a fact.

Do you think it was for love of union that the politicians fought the No campaign with promises of devomax? No way. The thought of losing Scotland’s taxes was more to the point.

Do you think the reason they are running scared of any deal with SNP is for fear of breaking up the union? No. They are afraid to be held account to promises made and run the risk of losing much needed revenue to prevent a much greater UK deficit than if Scotland were not contributing to the coffers.

But will they admit that? No chance. That the UK government should be dependent on a paltry nation of just over five million. In a pig’s eye will they admit it.

So let’s divide and conquer. Bite the hand that feeds. Vilify. Abuse. Negate any right to a voice.

In the absence of independence at this stage I want full fiscal autonomy. Keep the Barnett Formula. Keep English votes for English laws. I have no problem with that AS LONG AS we keep what we raise here. Being dependent on a proportionate share via policies decided elsewhere is not my idea of autonomy of any kind.

And yes there will be ups and downs. We know that. The UK government knows that. Ask them. Selective representaion of numbers evades the fact that the UK proportion of deficit exceeds that of Scotland. It evades the fact that the proportionate UK contribution to GDP is less than Scotland’s contribution. But waxes lyrical about the Barnett Formula.

The fact that politicians and media are still purveying the lie that Scotland takes more than it gives leads to the divisiveness being created NOT by SNP or any other Scot but by those who should know better and do better. Or maybe they don’t read their own statements. I doubt it. Read, masticated, spat out. Nasty taste.

At the point of no return from such divisiveness is the scenario where the union will end. Not by referendum. But in any spirit still hanging by a thread. And by the hands of the ones who claim to support and defend it.

Get the facts on the table.

You need us.

If you don’t want us, fine. I’m good with that. We can go. And take with us what is ours. Our national pride and right to autonomy. But you can’t have it both ways. Abuse will be answered one way or another.

It is no accident that SNP has grown in stature and volume here. They represent us, our voices, our needs.

The mistake the government is making is in believing or suggesting that SNP are the bogeyman.

We are the bogeymen. People informed. Because we made ourselves be. We needed to be. There is no going back from what has been put into public domain. Economics is one factor.

But just one.

The right to fair representation is the force.

I’m not even an SNP member but I will vote for them until the time comes that I can vote Green.

In my ideal UK right now there would be a force for change wrought by the voices of those from the Green party and other parties/independents who have real social justice and environment on their mind. There would be enough representation the length and breadth of the four countries to take every seat in parliament, rid ourselves of eltist, self-servers and work for the good of the whole nation and the rest of the world.

I know I’m a dreamer.

But I’m not the only one.

It’s time to give politics back to the people. Or take it.

But I will take no more abuse.

And neither will my children.

Not from anyone.

Would any mother or father do less?

That’s all we’re doing.

Defending ourselves and kids from abusive power

Mask

Whose mask

Grips,

Viced on scalp

And brain,

In dungeon’s dark depression?

Who holds, controls,

Wields

The key

To your

Suppression or oppression?

 

Invisible

Intruder,

Grim

Warden

Of the night.

Whose twin,

Alter-self

Decries,

Denies

Light?

 

Empowered

Lies,

Fortifying self

At your expense?

 

Have you

The key,

The duplicate,

Self-freeing

Padlock broken?

Who is the

Master

Of your life?

Whose voice

Is spoken?