PLAGUE LINER IN CROMARTY FIRTH

HMS SUDDEN DEATH OFF INVERGORDON
(HONEST, INVERGORDON)
1 DEAD, 150 SICK, 200 FEARED WELL.


A spokesjock for NHS Highlands said We cannae be doin’ wi’ this shit, half a they passenges gone doon wi’ the bug and only the one a them’s toast. We’ll have tae get the other half offa yon Barge a Death and get them in Raigmore Hospital so’s they all can catch diseases, otherwise it isnae fair, we are a centre of excellence when it comes tae killing patients wi’ basically nothing wrong with them; we’ll soon have them all toasted, the noo, d’ye ken.

Alec Lard, the chief of the Jock Tribesmen said This is just another example of why I should be Emperor of an Independent Wife-beaters Republic of Scotland and I blame Gordon Brown who is just a big fairy, unlike myself who keeps his very-old-lady wife in the attic and brings her oot, the noo, at election times. Unlike Brown I was a brilliant economist which is why I didn’t see the recession coming until it was here and Scotland was a basket case, it is judgement such as mine which we need if we are ever to break free of the shackles ….blah blah blah. (sings, in smug voice, Everyday, its-a gettin' closer...) Useless fat bastard.

In the light of the Plague Emergency, the Jock Herald, owned by Uncle Sam, printed its usual, daily lamentatious editorial. What does it mean to be jock? No, really, what does it mean? Are we a young nation burnishing itself for glory as a proud, independent state, proudly first among equals, such as Nyasaland and Tierra del Fuego, jockus primus inter pares, or are we, as young Mr stanislav avers, merely Scotland, best part of England. Our team of crack writers, Mr Ian McSmirk, the politicians' fluffer, discusses what it means to be Jock, on pages ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen and fourteen, all over BBC Scotland and in our sister publication, The Jock Sunday Herald. Which is like a tartan Observer. Only worse.