Wings Over Scotland

We thought this was overdue an update. It’s got about 16 new front pages on it, one whole new row and a handful of newly-rediscovered replacements. It really is worth taking a few minutes to peruse it properly (click on the pic to enlarge it) to get the full effect of eight wasted years of deja vu disappointment.

It’s not even The National’s fault. They’re a business, they’re simply trying to sell a few papers to a diminishing audience of endlessly gullible eejits. The real fault lies with the halfwitted SNP members who just keep on doggedly failing to learn a single lesson, and repeatedly vote to carry on doing what they know doesn’t work and never will.

Ach weel, as they used to say.

The SNP put out this party political broadcast (PPB) last night.

And alert readers might already have noticed something odd.

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Or not, as the case may be.

All aboard!

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Someone tweeted this today:

We were curious to find out what we’d said, but it seems to have been expunged from The National’s website. We eventually managed to track the email down in our vaults, though, so just as a bit of a change, here it is, as a reminder of a different time.

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To be honest it barely seems worth marking the ninth anniversary of the indyref. The day our nation – albeit narrowly – bottled out of becoming a real one again is nothing to be celebrated. The supposed party of independence has run away from the fight, concerned only with feathering its own nest, and its era of power looks to be drawing to a bitter and deserved close.

But there remains one grave and glaring grievance.

And no matter what anyone says, it’ll dog democracy and condemn Scottish politics to eternal stagnation until it’s addressed.

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Just slightly under four weeks ago, this site told you “It seems very much as though the strategy has reverted to ‘Beg the UK government for a Section 30, and when they refuse, wait a while then beg them again'”.

Once again, we’re dismayed to report that we called it right. Because last night SNP MSP Mairi McAllan, officially representing the party on Question Time, told a weary audience in Fort William that that was precisely the case.

And readers, if ever a policy has been tested in battle and found wanting, it’s that one.

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Because this one’s pretty tired.

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Until a few weeks ago Calum Steele was the chief of the Scottish Police Federation, so as due-credits go we particularly appreciate this one.

So let’s remind ourselves of a few things.

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Today is the last day of Nicola Sturgeon’s record-breaking reign as First Minister of Scotland. In a few hours we’ll know who is to succeed her in the role. She was only the second SNP occupant of Bute House, and the legacy she bequeaths compared to the one she inherited from Alex Salmond is a matter of measureable record.

So let’s see the final scores on the doors.

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The SNP having a fondness for lying about their membership wouldn’t have come as quite such a shock to the Scottish press if they paid a little more attention to this website. Because we were pointing it out two and a half years ago.

It was in October 2020 that we told you how the SNP’s 2019 accounts revealed the party’s true membership figures weren’t the claimed 126,000 but more like 87,000.

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Saw this on Twitter this morning. It’s pleasingly concise.

One day, even the diehards will see the pattern.

For what these are about, see here. This one’s from 23 August 2019.

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I’m going to talk about this story for a bit, and I’m sorry because I’m as sick of this subject as everyone else is but it’s really really important. Tune out for 10 minutes if you must.

I’ve never been a person who suffered from blackouts. In my younger days I would frequently drink Olympian amounts of booze and pass out in a heap (and/or pool of my own vomit) under a table, but when I woke up I always remembered how I got there. I also went under general anaesthetic a couple of times at the dentist when I was wee, and always remembered counting down from 10 with the mask on before I woke up. (“10…9…8…zzzzzzzz”)

In my entire half-century on this planet, there’s only one gap in my memory. (Like, I don’t remember what I had for dinner on 8 July 1987, but you know what I mean. I remembered it the next day, just not any more.)

It happened when I was about 14, playing rugby at school.

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