Wings Over Scotland

The entire mainstream Scottish media has picked up this afternoon on our intriguing scoop from yesterday about Peter Murrell lending the SNP £108,000 last year.

(The official SNP line is that it was for “cash flow reasons after the 2021 election”, although that doesn’t explain why less than half the money has been paid back more than 18 months later. Surely the party’s had enough cash flowing back in since then?)

And it’s enlightening to see how Scotland’s “proper” journalists handle such things.

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Left: February 2020. Right: November 2022.

Or possibly the other way round, we’re not sure. All we know is that we’re always surging upwards and forwards but somehow never actually getting anywhere.

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This legendary soliloquy never rang more true than on 23 November 2022.

Let’s be methodical about it.

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A week ago, readers, I had not the slightest interest in bringing Wings Over Scotland back full-time. I had my Twitter account again and was having fun and I was happy with that. It scratched the itch of being able to engage with politics (and people) without the depressing business of wading in it for work.

Having enjoyed a summer of long sunny walks feeding the swans and refreshing lager shandies in riverside pubs, I was preparing to hunker down over the cold dark winter and finally get some much-delayed writing for the Wings memoir done.

And then I witnessed the quite extraordinary sight of an elected member of Parliament, in the shape of the SNP’s pico-witted ambulant brain vacuum Karen Adam, publicly gloating about having managed to shut down the voice of someone critical of her party.

At the same time, an extremely minor blogger (the word “rival” would be to over-dignify them) re-opened hostilities in his campaign of self-declared “open warfare” against this site, with a rapid succession of posts (just a few of dozens) forming such a demented scattershot tirade that to patiently debunk all of it would have taken until Christmas.

And I’ll be honest, folks, it all pushed my buttons a wee bit. It really shouldn’t have, but it was properly outrageous and I’m occasionally human, so I thought “Sod it, if I’m going to have to put up with all this crap anyway I might as well make it worthwhile”.

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The response to yesterday’s post was pretty unanimous. So let’s find out for real.

Wings Over Scotland has been produced for free for the last three and a half years. Our last operational fundraiser was in May 2019. Then again, we’ve been retired for nearly half that time, with only occasional new posts.

But Scottish politics has never been in a more dire state than it is now, with the SNP stolen from its members by a tiny cabal not interested in independence but only in power for its own sake and the “queering” of Scottish society, while the opposition is a worthless ragbag of hapless incompetents and the media is a national embarrassment.

And since Wings stood back from the fray 18 months ago, absolutely nothing has stepped up to take its place. So if you want the job doing, it looks like we’ll have to do it ourselves again.

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Good heavens, readers. We’re afraid we’ve rather been forced into yet another post this month on our decreasingly-dormant website.

As many of you have already noticed, just a week after being unsuspended by Twitter (to surprisingly unanimous approval in the media from friends and enemies alike, and from some startlingly unexpected sources), early this afternoon the @WingsScotland account was kicked out again. According to the only email Twitter have sent us the reason for the sanction was “ban evasion”, which is perplexing since they’d just lifted the ban and there was nothing to evade.

But the plot subsequently thickened as a procession of SNP types claimed to be responsible, all triumphantly waving completely different supposed offences, none of which we’ve heard anything about.

Naturally we’ve enquired of Twitter what’s going on, and will update you as necessary. But to be honest with you, folks, if the SNP are this desperate to silence our voice, maybe it’s time we thought about returning for good.

Is it time to blow three-and-a-half years of dust off the old Fundraise-O-Tron and get back to work properly? Or should we stay in peaceful retirement and just stick a post up once in a while when we feel like it? What say you, chums?

All cleared up in slightly under three years.

How long this situation will last is unknown – New Improved Elon Musk Twitter is still stuffed with all the same activist moderators it was before, and we don’t doubt that the SNP’s purple-haired sturmjugend will even as we speak be engaged in an obsessive frenzy of malicious reporting and complaining to try to have us shut down once again.

Hopefully they won’t succeed, and hopefully some other unjustly-banned accounts such as those of Graham Linehan, Dennis Kavanagh, Holly Lawford-Smith, Meghan Murphy, Claire Graham, Maya Forstater (currently locked out) and far too many more to list, mostly feminist women, all suspended for basic statements of human biology, will soon be restored too.

But rest assured that in the meantime we’ll be having as much fun as possible.

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Someone had to remind us that today is Wings Over Scotland’s 11th birthday.

In a grim indictment of Scotland’s once-vaunted political new media, a site that’s been officially closed since May 2021 is still far and away the most-read in the country, despite that readership now being mostly angry overgrown children squabbling with each other in the comments. People would apparently still, by a vast margin, rather read that than endure the tedium of Bella Caledonia or Believe In Scotland.

We’ve said pretty much all that there is to be said about that miserable state of affairs already, so we won’t repeat ourselves. God help the independence movement.

The National has an “EXCLUSIVE” story today.

We think you’re meant to be outraged.

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An incomplete list of TV channels showing the royal funeral today follows.

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At least try to keep your story straight, lads.

(Properly oldschool batshit-mad Telegraph article here, by this guy. Trailer here.)

One might almost imagine that once every Parliament, a drawing of lots is conducted at The Times’ offices in Scotland and the loser is obliged to write this column, on pain of a ceremonial debagging and a jolly good paddling with an old cricket bat from all the other chaps in the newsroom.

Perhaps the fear is playing tricks with Alex Massie’s memory.

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