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Get Knitted

I found this on a scrap of paper in the back of a book borrowed from the local library:

 

Extract from ‘Essays’ by Angus McTavish

 

On the need for Political Reformation

Right, as someone living in Scotland, here’s what rips my knitting: London elites who make mistake capitalism for policies that help the country; who have a blindness to anywhere outside the South East; who seem confident that the Scots and English can be convinced they are different peoples like, say, the Belgians and the Luxembourgers [1] and who are solely interested in looking after their pals[2].  Add in to this mix, a Scottish Parliament thirsting to extend its own powers, and there seems to be only one course of action.

England!  Why not come and join us?   Minus London of course.

The two countries would, er. . . ‘knit’ together because, though it sticks in the craw to admit it, outside of theLondoncircle, people on both sides of the border are made largely from the same pattern .  “Eh?  How so?” I hear you mumble.  Well, just look at the telly – any night on BBC Three it’s possible to tune into documentaries recording the antics of teens who have buckled themselves with booze in an sti –blown Mediterranean ‘Gin Lane’, provoking parental hand-wringing for the cameras.  “Hullowerr, welcome to parenthood!”  as Rab C. Nesbitt would say.  These scenes are not new, nor are they particularly Scottish, despite the stereotypes we all know and love – the crap that gets dumped on people in theU.K.smells the same wherever they are, and people deal with it in exactly the same way. And nobody seems to notice that there is a possibility that the course can be changed through solidarity, because we seem to be too bothered about our minimal differences.

Take last week, for example, my new sweater vest was rent asunder – amidst gnashing of teeth! – on the very needles on which it took form, as on the telly a grim-faced B.B.C. correspondent informed the nation that the deserted shopping arcades of North Manchester ‘were more like the grim landscapes of Detroit.’

“Detroit? Detroit?  Bullshit!” was my measured response.  What? Was a comparison to the deserted landscapes of Methil not ‘glamorous’ enough, not ‘gritty’ enough?  Or was it convenient to forget thatScotlandis getting shafted as well, along with the millions of ordinary people in it?  Many of whom could be easily convinced to help do something to prevent something like our economy becoming dangerously unbalanced yet again.  Let’s face it, though the language of the B.B.C. is usually unimpeachable in its objectivity, they are very careless in what ‘news’ they leave out.

Notably, that fine public body was very lax in reporting the N.H.S. ‘reforms’.  Hardly anyone in England, it seems, is aware of what these reforms are.   In terms that the fine youth of the islands would understand what has actually happened is this, in the words of an S3 pupil:  “Ye’re at a party, n yir pal was sent out with the kitty to the shop and he spent the lot on Tennent’s, even though folk wanted other drink because it was stronger and cheaper but he’s spent the lot so ye’ve got to drink that because there’s no other option.  Oh and yir pal who went for the drink is a shareholder in Tennent’s.  He wouldna be ma pal for long.  Pure pish likes”  It was political racketeering.  Yet I would be willing to wager the shirt (woollen) from my back that if Health was devolved, Westminsterwould not have been able to pull it off.  Why not?  The NHS was a free service – you’ve heard about how copper wire was invented haven’t you?[3]

So come on, people from Cardigan to Jersey, forget the differences that Westminster is keen to peddle – David Cameron doing so by omitting to disprove the SNP rhetoric – join together and create a parliament that leaves out the London elites and lives in the real world, we Scots will help – I wonder what a parliament building would look like in Carlisle.  We will one again have aFair Isle.


[1] Let’s face it Dave Cameron is pretending

[2] LOL

[3] In 1872 inPaisley a Rab McGlinchie and  Rev. McTaggart spotted a penny a the same time and bent to pick it up.  Six hours later, they were found yards from the spot, unconscious from exhaustion, each end of the wire gripped between their bleeding fingers.


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