If there’s one thing the Scottish Conservatives love to do, it’s lecture the SNP about vetting its candidates. Here’s Ruth Davidson on Michelle Thomson, for example:
And it’s not just her.
Because this just happened:
And that’s about as close to a guarantee as you’ll get, readers.
This is a Scotsman front page from nine months ago:
We don’t think many people would disagree with that.
From the STV debate, an alert reader spots the picture that sums up Scottish Labour.
Alert readers will have noticed that the Conservatives and most of the right-wing press have recently embarked on a hyperbolic campaign against the Scottish Government’s “named person” child-protection legislation. The latest assault is in today’s Daily Mail:
The shriekingly furious lead article thunders in outrage that “nearly two thirds of Scots have condemned the SNP’s state guardian scheme as an ‘unacceptable intrusion’ into family life”, which sounds like a pretty damning verdict.
It’s not until you look a little deeper that it all falls to pieces.
We had a little Twitter run-in last night with former Scottish Labour deputy leader and current unemployed halfwit Anas Sarwar, when he reported us to Police Scotland for making a joke about bank holiday mail deliveries, “people in England” and “especially” Scottish ones – which of course includes this site’s own editor, that being the gag.
We’d almost forgotten he existed. But the incident brought something back to mind.
To be fair to Mr Sarwar, he was at least partly right.
Here’s a column from Kenny Farquharson in today’s tablet edition of the Times, which hasn’t made it onto the website. We don’t know if it’s in the print version.
Let’s just linger over those words for a moment.
A message of hope for Good Friday from everyone’s favourite Labour activist:
“Dry your eyes. On your feet.”
Sometimes the world’s random turns throw up a charmed piece of timing. That was the first tweet that I read on 19th September 2014, sitting on the side of the bed, eyes burning, wondering what on Earth I could possibly do with a day for which I’d bought champagne, but which broke my heart before dawn.
I’d resisted Twitter for a while, then fallen in love with it, weirdly comfortable with the disembodied voices of strangers. Small phrases, 140 characters: at its best, little postcards that made me smile, laugh or think.
For whatever reason, that tweet cut through, its arrival perfect to give me a virtual shake. I’d tell the writer – if I knew who they were – that I managed to carry out half of their instruction to us hollow-eyed, political orphans that day, though I failed miserably for a while on the first bit.
Today we should have become independent. We’re not, and it’s not okay, but since I don’t think we can ignore the power that time and timing can possess, and since words are all I’ve got, I’d like to tell you a story.
Two front pages in the same newspaper, two weeks apart.
The top image is Scotland within the UK. The bottom one is an independent Scotland.
£5 billion better off with independence? We’d call that a no-brainer.
We hadn’t heard of the Joseph Rowntree Reform Trust until today. It turns out that it’s a sister organisation to the highly admirable Joseph Rowntree Foundation, which does great work highlighting and fighting issues around poverty and social injustice.
The Reform Trust, not so much.
Wings Over Scotland is a thing that exists.
