A cunning SNP plot to defeat England by infecting its inhabitants from the Border to Westminster and back again has come to light today.
Questioned on Radio Scotland today, the SNP whip denied any involvement.
No, I dinna know where the SNP members are at any time. Okay, I'm supposed to be whipping them, but it doesna involve laying hands on the damn wee devils. I'm responsible, d'ye ken? I travel tae Westminster, whilst socially distancin', eatin ma pies and growlin' at people to keep them awa', hen, get into ma office an' keep ma heed down.
Wee Gnasher was reported as very angry. Nae, I have nae power to compel the culprit to resign. I'm only the First Minister of Strong, Successful Scotland.
10 comments:
Thus are the pious humbled. Always a fine thing to see. Nice one, Mrs I.
Honest Not Invent arrived today. Its been well said by others, but this really is a superb achievement by you both (and him) and in every sense a labour of love, done with astonishing speed. A truly cheering thing amid the loss of much else; but that was always the point.
Thank you, mr bungalow bill. You'll let us all know if you enjoy it (I know you will) - I'm counting the number of times red wine gets spurted at the monitor, coffee gets expelled onto keyboards and ambulances are called.
There really is something about these sanctimonious, pious, pie-faced Scot Nats that renders dancing on their embarassment absolutely irresistable. Ferrier has had it as far as Gnasher is concerned - we can only hope that major damage has been inflicted.
I regret the missing comma and apostrophe in my post above; the sort of sloppiness that lost us the Empire and which led us to Dominic Cummings. Precious to mention it but I feel a certain duty. You know how it is.
You're right, meantime, about Gnasher. Despite her endless words, she's dead in the soul. Period.
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Endless grievance, endless moaning, endless conceit. Gnasher is losing her grip, I reckon. She's fecked on Jan 1st. Tied she'll be to the Tommies forever.
Antics across the Pond! I wonder, does Donald think that he has done enough with 3 SCOTUS judges and he can use his covid to step back unbeaten and let somebody else take the shouting for a change. Crikey never mind the Court, let Amy run for President! Nancy Pelosi would explode like the Muppet she is.
No apostrophe jihadists here, mr bungalow bill. Always good to hear from you, with or without commas and apostrophes. Ad for Gnasher - she may have taken a bit of a hit over the Ferrier debacle, as she and Ian Pieman have lost some control of their stooges, but her persona popularity is still riding sky high as her performance in the coronabriefings is rated as very credible and statesmanlike, unlike Alas, Poor Boris.
Fucking hell, Mrs I, statesmanlike? Yes, that would be right.
Mr Mongoose, you speak truth. Amy thinks human life is rather a good idea, on the whole. Let her be anathema.
Aye, the mask slips a wee bit further. Although Fat Eck probably has as much to lose if the truth ever comes out, the Nats still have a tight lid on the Jockpress, with any dissent immediately stamped on. This very subject formed my last exchange with Mr Smith.
My copy came last week and I’ve barely read a word, I’m still somewhat stunned to have this physical evidence of him. Almost like a fucking holy relic or something.
Better bring your own redemption when you come,
To the barricades of heaven where I’m from.
Regards,
tnp
We live in strange times, indeed. If The Donald crokes, then what will happen to TrumpGolfScotland?
My hardback will take 20 days to arrive down under, but will take pride of place.
mr tnp references a rather wonderful Jackson Browne song. Here's a link:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Lyigdoi1SQ
We exist in liminal space, we ishmaelites, like angels, with our discourses divorced from the actuality of physical life - eating pies, for instance. I'll take your Jackson Browne and raise you Wordsworth:
"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home."
Anyway, mr tnp, 'twas mr verge was midwife to your holy relic. Brush away those trailing clouds of glory, and get reading. And please let the commentariat have your review.
Things are looking a little doomy for the Donald. Air-ambulanced to hospital, with a fever and cough. No expense will be spared on his recovery, but he is a man in his seventies, not a force of nature and croaking is a possibility. Without him, American politics will certainly be less amusing.
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