Wings Over Scotland

The following is a transcript from an interview with Scottish Labour “leader” Johann Lamont on BBC Radio Scotland’s “Good Morning Scotland” on Wednesday 25th April, concerning the relationship between Alex Salmond and Rupert Murdoch. (2h12m in.)

GARY ROBERTSON: Would you, if you were First Minister, be meeting Rupert Murdoch and others to talk about jobs in Scotland?

JOHANN LAMONT: Well, you would have to meet with people to talk about jobs and so on.

GARY ROBERTSON: So you would have had the same relationship, then?

JOHANN LAMONT: I would make this point: that we have all learned a lesson about dealing with Rupert Murdoch, and that is you sup with a long spoon.

The picture below comes from the Sun, in a 2011 feature entitled “Red Ed Is Dead“:

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We're sure that Labour, the Tories, the Lib Dems and the Unionist media en masse will once again line up to say that this is all just another bit of harmless fun banter and the sour-faced Nats really need to learn to take a joke. Right?

It's an extraordinary piece by Daily Telegraph leader writer Robert Colvile, following on from comments made by a former chairman of Conservative Future and current UKIP councillor, Tom Bursnall, and up-and-coming UKIP starlet Alexandra Swann, in which they suggested taking the vote away from the unemployed. Colvile's twist on the idea is that low-value members of the electorate be allowed to have a vote, but that richer people should get an extra one for every £10,000 in tax they pay.

(We're touched by the charmingly naive notion that rich people actually pay tax, and also by the choice of figures, which would imply that people earning £50,000 are no better in Colvile's eyes than filthy dole scroungers.)

Colvile's definition of low-value voters is "the unemployed, feckless and Scottish (I'm sorry if that's tautologous)", meaning that if a person is Scottish then it probably goes without saying that they're also unemployed and feckless. (Despite the fact that Scottish unemployment is lower than the rest of the UK, and Scottish employment is higher.) Yeah, we know – our sides are splitting too.

(The Telegraph, incidentally, has form on this. As recently as last year it ran another piece from a different writer also suggesting the unemployed shouldn't be allowed to vote, followed by an endorsement from the paper's deputy editor. It seems to be an idea that's gathering support.)

We look forward to the next rib-tickler. But for God's sake nobody suggest that any of this is "anti-Scottish", okay? We can't help but feel the Unionists would somehow manage to turn it into a call for Joan McAlpine to be sacked again.

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[EDIT 1.44pm: We discuss this in the comments but should probably add something above the line too for the sake of clarity. As our headline suggests, Mr Colvile's defence will likely be that his piece is intended as satire, based on the 1729 Jonathan Swift tract "A Modest Proposal…" and signified by the similar title. The words "modest proposal" also appear in the Ian Cowie piece from 2011. However, even if Colvile and Cowie, and the Telegraph's deputy editor Benedict Brogan also in 2011, were ALL attempting to satirise the absurdity of the idea – something about which we have very serious doubts, given the Telegraph's political ideology and the repetition of the "joke", which hangs entirely on people getting a pretty obscure reference which in Cowie's case is buried deep in the text – it would be a stupid and irresponsible act. The reactions in the comments on all the pieces show that to many Telegraph readers the notion is, unsurprisingly, not at all ludicrous. At the very, very best, the Telegraph's writers are shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theatre for a laugh, over and over again.]

Last week saw another deployment of Labour's secret weapon in the fight against the SNP and their dastardly independence plans. The device is a WMD (Weapon of MisDirection) which the party has unleashed several times. But the weapon has a persistent teething problem – it has a tendency to come straight back and hit the user in the rear when they least expect it, while rarely managing even a glancing blow off the intended target. (Which in this case is of course the SNP.)

We've seen the patented Attack Boomerang in action on many occasions (the most recent being the bizarrely ill-judged attack on the SNP's referendum consultation which rebounded particularly badly on the party's "deputy" Scottish leader Anas Sarwar, and forced even the BBC to reluctantly acknowledge Labour's embarrassment), but one of the strangest was Labour's bitter criticism of the SNP over the fact that it had persuaded Amazon, the internet retailing giant, to recently open a large centre in the Dunfermline area and provide thousands of new jobs.

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We couldn't help but note the Bill Walker story floating back to the top of the media agenda again this weekend like – well, you can finish that metaphor for yourself.

After an embarrassing week in which Labour had scoured Twitter and Facebook with a fine tooth comb trying to find obscure SNP councillors/candidates saying anything mildly contentious that they could fake some pious outrage about (of which this surely represented the pitiful, embarrassing nadir, as a fully-grown man tried pathetically to manufacture some kind of offence at a handful of primary-school-playground jokes that wouldn't have upset even the primmest Victorian maiden aunt), the beleagured party and its increasingly-desperate activists went back to some safer ground.

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In the light of the hoo-ha about the referendum consultation, we thought it was about time we submitted our own response. We couldn't really be bothered going through the whole palaver of the detailed questionnaire on the Scottish Government's website, though, so we thought we'd avail ourselves of the handy one-click form thoughtfully supplied by Scottish Labour for that very purpose.

Weirdly, despite asking for "your views" Labour had already typed out some views for us to have into the message box, but we weren't sure we wanted them to speak for us so we entered something else. And since we wanted to be sure it wasn't dismissed as a fake, we decided to use the name of someone trustworthy who knows that a name and email address provides foolproof identity verification and democratic accountability.

We clicked the Send button, and the rigorous monitoring process which the Scottish Labour deputy leader spoke of on The Sunday Politics Scotland yesterday duly authenticated our submission, and then asked us to get our friends to join in.

That's you, readers, so why not do your democratic duty and have a go too? (We had a practice run while pretending to be one of our friends, just to make sure it worked, and Labour's watertight security safeguards also ratified that submission, so you can rest assured that you shouldn't have any technical problems.) We owe it to Scotland.

If your fingers exert even the slightest amount of pressure on the pulse of the mobile-gaming zeitgeist, the image below is going to set your deja-vu-sense a-tingling.

If there's one thing you can't accuse App Store developers of, it's being slow to rip off a success story. In this case, the success story in question is the astonishing overnight smash-hit Draw Something, which exploded into the news so dramatically that notorious idea-pirates Zynga (the same company who shamelessly cloned Tiny Tower) actually opted to pay a rumoured $210m for the company who made it rather than just banging out their own hasty barefaced knock-off like they usually would.

The game in our picture is functionally all but identical to Draw Something, except with more features. You get extra drawing tools and lots more colours to play with, and there are extra game modes on top of the straightforward turn-based picture exchange of OMGPOP's No.1 phenomenon. (Which in fact barely qualifies as a "game" at all, but that's another feature entirely.) The funny thing, though, is that it ISN'T a knock-off.

It's a game that came out two months BEFORE Draw Something, is basically exactly the same but superior to it in almost every way, yet has conspicuously failed to earn so much money that its bewildered creators can do little but giggle all day at their insane good fortune. Why? Well, of course we can't say for absolute certain. But we'd be happy to wager a pretty substantial amount of money on the fact that some complete dogturd-brained demi-wit decided to lumber it with the name Charadium II.

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We were struck by a little parable in the Scotsman today, penned by our favourite teller of fireside morality tales Michael Kelly. (Who, as attentive readers will know, only fails to grace our “Zany Comedy Relief” links column due to the lack of any central hub address for his contributions to the paper.)

In what we could most charitably describe as a “there but for the grace of God” scenario, the man whose chairmanship of Celtic took it to within hours of the fate that’s currently befalling Rangers reiterated the tired old lie about how Scotland needs both of the Old Firm, but in the course of the article he also passed on an interesting fact we hadn’t previously known.

“Rangers were once before in financial difficulty. It was in the 1920’s when my grandfather, James Kelly (a former Scotland centre-half), was chairman of Celtic. Rangers had a temporary cash flow problem and their board came out to his house in Blantyre to explain the problem and seek help. Celtic gave them an unconditional short-term loan. The fact that Rangers felt able to ask and that Celtic willingly responded indicates that both clubs were aware of their inter-dependence.”

We couldn’t help but find the 1920s football situation strikingly analogous to the modern political one. Rangers and Celtic are supposedly the bitterest of rivals, and their fans treat each other like diametrically opposed poles, with honour and virtue the sole property of one side and bigotry and hatred found exclusively on the other. Yet when it comes to the crunch, the institutions themselves know which side their bread is buttered, and unhesitatingly come together in their mutual interest. Remind you of any two big political parties at all?

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Tom Harris MP on Twitter, 10th March 2012:

"To the homeless, the unemployed, the hungry, the vulnerable, I say this: the SNP will give you a Scottish passport!"

Oof! That's some biting satire from the Scottish Labour man there, suggesting the SNP will do nothing for these unfortunate people other than change their nationality! That's going to sting those pesky "Tartan Tory" Nats! Hurrah for the good comrades of the Red Flag who stand up for the poor and the dispossessed!

But wait a minute – who's this vile, compassionless Tory slimebag sort, being quoted approvingly in the Telegraph by arch-Tory columnist Alan Cochrane barely three months earlier for telling those same unemployed, homeless and vulnerable to go and get stuffed, because his party has nothing to offer them?

"We were set up as the party to represent the values of working people, working being the key word. We weren't set up as some sort of charity to help the poorest in society – the long-term unemployed, the benefit dependent, the drug addicted, the homeless."

What? It's Tom Harris of the Scottish Labour Party, you say? We're confused again.

(You’ll see what we did there in a moment.)

Speaking as someone with a certain amount of experience in the field of polemic – and with the death threats, internet hate campaigns and Daily Star doorsteppings to show for it – this writer is always a little disappointed when grown adults fail to grasp how the concept works. We must, I regret to say, begin with the dictionary definition:

polemic (noun)
a strong verbal or written attack on someone or something: his polemic against the cultural relativism of the Sixties [mass noun]: a writer of feminist polemic
(usually polemics) the practice of engaging in controversial debate or dispute: the history of science has become embroiled in religious polemics

Joan McAlpine MSP is rapidly proving herself a subtle master of the form. Writing a new column for the red-top tabloid Daily Record (read, and this isn’t a coincidence, predominantly by Labour voters), she’s immediately got the FUD camp fumingly a-flutter with her debut piece, an interesting analogy comparing the Union to a marriage in which the husband jealously controls the purse strings of the household.

At this point, readers, let us diverge for a moment to offer a professional tip derived from over 20 years of experience. The art of the polemic – at least when deploying it in the manner of the second definition above – is to say something that isn’t actually offensive, in a way that sounds as though it is. With luck, your “mark” will spot a trigger word and immediately embark on a furious kneejerk whinge, having not bothered to actually read the article in question properly or establish any context.

In such a manner can you, for example, gather 30,000 complaints about a comment nobody with even the most basic functioning brain could possibly have misinterpreted – indeed, which the perpetrator both immediately before and immediately afterwards specifically said did not in any way represent his real views.

And what’s the result? The wider public – which didn’t go looking for offence and was therefore able to rationally and calmly see that there was none to be had – just thinks the complainers are cretins and invariably develops a certain sympathy with the perpetrator, even if they weren’t necessarily favourably inclined towards them in general. Jeremy Clarkson gets paid a lot of money, and not by accident.

Most normal people – a grouping which excludes most of us politics nerds – are sick of the modern outrage culture (a relatively new phenomenon facilitated in large part by the internet), in which someone somewhere can be relied on to be offended by anything, and where barely-sentient idiots demand compensation and/or legal remedy for their hurt feelings or the fact that they were too stupid to realise that coffee is generally served hot and is best not poured directly into your lap. Nobody loves a moaner, and especially not a thick one trying to start a storm in an empty coffee cup.

We’ve never met Joan McAlpine, but we promise you that as a professional journalist she knows that fact very well. We’re not even going to bother discussing the specifics of her Record column, because this blog has a pretty bright readership and we wouldn’t insult their intelligence. Let’s just say we’re not expecting either the SNP or the Record to drag her over any hot coals any time soon, okay?

It doesn’t, of course. (We have it on good authority that the old-school-Tory broadsheet considers the Islamic-fundamentalist terrorist organisation to be “a bit soft“ on homosexuality.) But as a headline, our statement is every bit as valid as the ridiculous one the paper has rather embarrassingly chosen to run on its front page today.

“SNP backs ‘devo-plus’ for independence vote”, hollers the once-august organ, possibly causing more naive readers to imagine that the SNP might have backed ‘devo-plus‘ for the independence vote. The marginally more wary would perhaps have been further persuaded by an opening paragraph which reads “The SNP wants the devo-plus option, which would see Holyrood take control of most taxes, included on the referendum ballot as an alternative to full independence.”

But of course, no such thing – or anything remotely close to it – has actually happened. Dig a few lines deeper and what you find is that some unnamed, unquoted “Nationalists” (who may or may not be in the SNP) have allegedly said that if “a strong body of opinion lines up behind devo-plus” (whatever that actually means), the Scottish Government might agree to include it on the referendum ballot.

(Despite the fact that on last night’s Newsnight Scotland, the proponents of devo-plus, including Jeremy Purvis and Tavish Scott, said that they didn’t want the option included in the vote at all. They want it to replace the status quo as the “No” choice.)

So to recap: some people who weren’t prepared to give their names have supposedly made comments which the paper has interpreted to mean that if certain vague conditions are met in the future something else might happen, in theory, despite that thing not being desired or supported even by the people who invented it. Quite the scoop for the Scotsman’s ace reporters – and for the high journalistic standards of the Scottish media as a whole – there, I’m sure we’d all agree.

Word has reached us that today Willie Rennie, the leader of the Scottish Liberal Democrats, has allowed himself to be photographed holding an oversized pledge card he’s signed, promising to back equal marriage rights for homosexuals.

We’re sure that he’ll uphold the proud traditions of Lib Dems signing oversized pledge cards, and that equal marriage rights for gays are now definitely a done deal as a result. Because if there’s one thing we all know for sure in this uncertain world, it’s that once a Lib Dem has signed an oversized pledge card, there’s no going back.

Seriously, did nobody tell him or something?

It’s almost like they don’t even know they’re doing it, the poor loves.

“The First Minister was selective in his definition of a ‘gauleiter’ in the Holyrood chamber on Thursday.”

That’s Ruth Davidson, quoted disapproving of the FM’s shady behaviour in a Scottish Conservatives press release today. And it’s a strong point – there’s nothing worse than using definitions selectively to support your own case, right? But wait, what’s this?

“Alex Salmond described it as the kind of decision made by a tin-pot dictatorship populated by ‘gauleiters’ – which, according to the Chambers dictionary is a Nazi official.”

That’s the very same press release, just a few lines earlier. And unless we’re very much mistaken, what it’s doing is… you guessed it, readers. It’s selectively quoting from the dictionary definition of a “gauleiter”. Oops! Our wife’s going to kill us, etc.

But in fact, it’s rather worse than just selective – as the Collins definition quite clearly notes, “Gauleiter” in a Nazi context must have a capital “G”, because all German nouns are capitalised. If you write the word all in lower-case (as the Tory press release attributes to the FM) you’re explicitly citing the non-Nazi definition, which means that according to the Tories themselves, Salmond’s usage is correct and theirs is wrong.

And the Chambers definition they refer to makes things worse still – it explicitly refers to the Nazi definition as “historical”, meaning the current usage of the word is indeed to describe a petty bureaucrat. It also states that the former definition is only applicable to the period “under the Nazi regime”, which as far as we’re aware ended in 1945. (Germany has no Gauleiters nowadays.) In other words, unless you’re directly referring to specific events that took place in Germany under Adolf Hitler, the ONLY legitimate current definition of the word “gauleiter” is the one the First Minister used.

We’re sure the Scottish Conservatives would be embarrassed at this shocking display of both rank hypocrisy and basic grammatical ignorance, except that looking at what they’re doing to the unemployed, the disabled, and the sick at the moment, we’re forced to conclude that the Tories have no shame at all.