The average rape sentence in Scotland is seven years, so to get six years plus three years’ supervision for the technically lesser crime of sexual assaults means they must have been pretty grim ones.
So we know that Cameron Downing is a very bad man. Which does rather invite the question of why he was so popular in the SNP.
Some people (at the time of writing we have no idea how many) are marching in Edinburgh today, notionally in favour of Scottish independence although the event’s barely-concealed true purpose is to firmly establish Believe In Scotland as the official, SNP-approved “grassroots Yes movement”.
(It’s so grassroots that for just £1,800 you and some pals can hobnob with Humza Yousaf and, um, Janey Godley at their annual dinner at the Hilton later this month.)
For around 40 years of my life, I had an easy one-word answer to being asked if I was in favour of independence for Scotland, and that answer was “Yes”. If you’d pushed me to expand, I’d have said “Yes, obviously“.
Even though my dad was employed by the SNP leader of the time – in his non-SNP capacity as a business owner – politics wasn’t discussed in our house. (These were the 1970s, so there wasn’t a vast amount of discussion full stop.) But I was raised, basically by default, with the view that Scotland was a country.
Of course it was a country. It had its own dialect and an identifiable culture, both things personified to my young self by Oor Wullie and The Broons, and our weekly visits to my granny’s wooden bungalow in a wee ancient village near Cumbernauld that may as well have been Auchenshoogle (weirdly, sometimes “Auchentogle”).
It had national football and rugby teams. It had a flag. Why would it be any less of a country than Germany or Italy or Holland or Brazil or Argentina? (My knowledge of geography was primarily World Cup-based.)
So as soon as I had even the vaguest notion of the concept of politics – probably around the age of 7 or 8 – it seemed straightforwardly axiomatic to me that it should be independent. There was never even a thought process, it was just mad and unnatural to think otherwise, like believing the sea was orange. Countries run their own affairs, right? And that was it for the next 40-odd years.
(Post-2007, when I started to seriously examine the idea, the feeling only solidified.)
But since 2018 or so, for the first time in my life, my answer is different. If you ask me now whether I believe in Scottish independence, I’ll say “Yes, in principle“.
The SNP collected slightly over 1 million list votes in Thursday’s election, which nevertheless elected just two list MSPs because SNP voters care about power for the SNP rather than about independence, and chose to let dozens of Unionist MSPs get seats rather than other pro-indy parties.
But the bigger tragedy is that one of those two was Emma Roddick.
Just over a hundred years ago, the rights of women in the UK were still entirely decided by men. Women didn’t have the vote (a small minority would be given it in 1918, but most would have another decade to wait), there were no women in Parliament, and women basically had no say in anything that happened.
Record scratch and jump-cut to the present day.
That’s Kirsty Blackman, an SNP MP elected in 2015 who wouldn’t even have been allowed to stand for election a hundred years earlier, and who seems determined to take women’s rights back to that century.
At the weekend we all beheld the bizarre sight of two supposed investigative Scottish politics journalists sneering and trying to play down what appeared to be a genuinely major story about a live police inquiry into a possible £600,000 criminal fraud involving the party of government in Scotland.
Both of them work for the same rival outlet, so the most generous interpretation that could reasonably be put on their curious behaviour is that they were simply trying to focus attention instead on that outlet’s own big Sunday splash – also ostensibly a story of political fraud, albeit on a much smaller scale.
So let’s just clear that one up now to help them out.
We’ve just been sent this report from today’s meeting of the SNP’s National Executive Committee, which ended a short time ago. There’s no official confirmation yet but it’s come to us from several independent sources and we’re sure it’s true.
(“NS” and “JC” are of course Nicola Sturgeon and Joanna Cherry.)
Tonight somebody’s sent us a copy of the SNP’s official Social Media Policy, which is exactly the sort of awful corporate wonk-drivel you’d probably expect it to be.
Our favourite part was this masterpiece of unrememberable gibberish in the vein of the Scottish Government’s hopeless “FACTS” slogan (honestly, without going and looking can you remember what ANY of the letters represent?) for the coronavirus :
And here’s a tweet from earlier today from a prospective SNP candidate:
We’re not sure which of the letters that conforms to.
So we’ve just heard some news hot from the SNP’s controversial special NEC meeting which took place this afternoon.
We don’t yet know what happened regarding the supposed definition of transphobia – our source thinks that it may have been postponed due to not being able to get the required 2/3 vote for an emergency agenda item.
But we know that something even madder DID happen.
Ridiculously, more than eight hours after voting closed in an all-electronic election in which “counting” should have taken a maximum of one second, and at 11.30pm, the SNP have released the results of this year’s NEC elections.
There are some big stories.
Alyn Smith is OUT as Policy Development Convener, replaced by Chris Hanlon.
Rhiannon Spear is OUT as Women’s Convener, replaced by Caroline McAllister.
Fiona Robertson is OUT as Equalities Convener, replaced by Lynne Anderson.
All of these are dramatic changes for the better.
Joanna Cherry is IN. Neale Hanvey is IN. Roger Mullin is IN. Dorothy Jessiman is IN. Catriona McDonald is IN. Douglas Chapman is IN. All ditto.
SNP MP Joanna Cherry posted a series of tweets this morning.
She hasn’t asked us to, but they deserve some amplifying.
Wings Over Scotland is a (mainly) Scottish political media digest and monitor, which also offers its own commentary. (More)
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