Wings Over Scotland

A strange phenomenon we’ve remarked upon a few times since the independence referendum is the inexplicable undying rage of a certain subset of Unionist voters.

Having won the vote, a casual observer might expect them to be happy, but instead they appear to exist in a constant state of fury.

(Our own best guess is that they were expecting to triumph by a crushing margin of two or three to one – some fretted that it might only be a 20-point victory – and then suffered the double blow of a much closer result that kept the Yes movement very much alive coupled with a massive surge in SNP membership and support.)

A demented anti-SNP tactical-voting campaign for this year’s general election – led by, among others, a frothing ultra-Loyalist-nutter-type by the name of Andrew Skinner – recorded one of the most spectacular failures in history as the Nats captured 56 out of 59 Scottish seats, only narrowly missing the other three, and the party’s poll ratings have continued to rise since then.

So this week, Mr Skinner decided to try for a more manageable target.

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To mark the day that we both appeared in the Herald’s “Power 100” list of “The leading Scots who shape our lives” – and she had another go at trolling us – we’d like to dedicate this wonderful tune sincerely to the popular children’s author JK Rowling:

We’ll try to understand her problems more sensitively in future.

Kezia Dugdale in the Scottish Daily Mail this morning:

“We’re not like the SNP. This isn’t a party of robots that are given a chip and told what to think.”

Twitter’s response is below.

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The Scotland Office is unexpectedly no more.

It’s had an unannounced rebranding as “The UK Government For Scotland”.

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Nation’s political journalists shocked.

More “news” at 1pm, 6pm, 10pm, 10.30pm, etc, etc, etc, etc.

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So today we read this:

And it was good.

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Let’s start off by losing some more friends. This site has no time for the Gaelic lobby. The obsolete language spoken by just 0.9% of Scotland’s population might be part of the nation’s “cultural heritage”, but so were burning witches and replacing Highlanders with sheep and we don’t do those any more either.

Being multilingual is an excellent thing, but the significant amount of time and effort taken to learn a literally-pointless second language (because everyone you can talk to in Gaelic already understood English) would be vastly better directed to picking up one that was actually of some use, and every extra fraction of a second spent scanning a road sign trying to find the bit you can read is a fraction of a second spent with your eyes off the road.

Non-primary native languages are a tool whose main utility in practice is at best the exclusion of outsiders, and at worst an expression of dodgy blood-and-soil ethnic nationalism. They’re a barrier to communication and an irritation to the vast majority of the population, who are made to feel like uncultured aliens in their own land.

But we’d still rather put up with Gaelic than complete idiots making our laws.

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We can’t help feeling there’s a simpler way of putting that.

Earlier today Gordon Brown gave a speech in London, on a subject and for reasons which are unclear. It was widely trailed in the press, however, as an intervention in the Labour leadership campaign, with the particular goal of stopping Jeremy Corbyn from winning. It was – naturally – broadcast live and in full by the BBC News channel.

Corbyn wasn’t mentioned by name so far as we noticed, but to tell the truth we drifted in and out of the rambling, 49-minute, 30-page monologue full of celebrity namedrops and unconnected anecdotes, hypnotised as we were by Brown’s relentless pacing up and down the room like a caged animal.

Nobody who isn’t getting paid should have to endure the entire grimness of it, so using the magic of technology we’ve compressed it all down to a mere fraction of its length (just 20%) for you, but without losing any of the tone, content or intellectual nuance.

We offer it to you as an elegy. It marks the day that Labour reanimated the walking corpse of the only person left in the party that it considers to have any gravitas – not to win an election, but to try to crush the first man in living memory to enthuse tens of thousands of new members to join a political party in the hope of restoring the values it was created to uphold.

It is the day the soul of the Labour Party finally died.

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We couldn’t help but smile at the related tunes.

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These pages from the 14 March 1998 issue of NME (just 10 months after the election of Tony Blair’s first Labour government) are a fascinating historical document.

They needed saving. So we found them and we saved them.

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