The Sunday Ishmael 30/10/2022

 

 "There is no reason to believe that there was any direct cause for concern." Alistair Carmichael, Liberal Democrat MP for Orkney and Shetland since 2001 and Elder in the Church of Scotland

 "People in the isles are understandably uneasy about the presence of a Russian vessel around the isles, particularly when there is heightened concern about attacks on infrastructure." Carmichael added.

"Even so, we should not be alarmist. I hope that the Royal Navy will have been fully aware and ready to respond if it were necessary."

 

Yes, I hope so, too. 

'Twas the Danish Navy that we owe our thanks to, however.

You remember Big Al  Carmichael?

Carmichael - spluttering bulbous lies and wormy pledges

On 4 April 2015, during the general election campaign Carmichael was involved in the leaking of a memo from the Scotland Office about comments allegedly made by the French ambassador Sylvie Bermann about Nicola Sturgeon, claiming that Sturgeon had privately stated she would "rather see David Cameron remain as PM", in contrast to her publicly stated opposition to a Conservative government. Both the French Ambassador and Gnasher denied the memo. Big Al said he had nothing to do with the leak in a Channel 4 interview. A Cabinet Office enquiry found phone records proving Big Al's SPAD, Euan Roddin, had contacted The Telegraph on the 1st April. Thus revealed as a liar, Big Al accepted that the memo was incorrect, he had authorised the leaking of the memo to the media and apologised. Why did this matter? Because it was an attempt to discredit Gnasher in order to bolster his popularity in the Isles and defeat his SNP opponent. Four electors from Orkney and Shetland lodged an election petition on 29 May 2015, attempting to unseat Carmichael and force a by-election. On 2 June 2015, the Parliamentary Standards Commissioner began an investigation into his conduct. On 9 December 2015, it was decided it had not been proven beyond reasonable doubt that he had committed an "illegal practice" and he was allowed to retain his seat. His application for his £150,000 costs was rejected in February 2016. 

mr ishmael had an encounter with the bloated Carmichael once - 

 

ME FIRST. HOW THE LIBDEMS WORK FOR THEIR CONSTITUENTS

 

I caught a delayed flight from Orkney to Aberdeen, last Monday morning.  In front of me sat  Big Al Carmichael, 

 

currently the local MP, now facing a legal challenge to his election  in May last.  Carmichael, by his own admission, lied when he insisted that he had not leaked  misleading information about Nicola Sturgeon, MSP,  but maintains, lamely, that this was a political lie, not a real one and so he should not be unseated.

A couple of rows behind me sat Lord Jim Wallace, 

formerly LibDem holder of the seat which Carmichael now considers his own property.  As an MSP and deputy leader of the Labour-LibDem Holyrood Coalition, Wallace was a disastrous justice minister, memorably, for her hurt feelings, paying a Scottish police sergeant three-quarters of a million pounds of my money. Wallace had presided over a bungled forensic criminal investigation which attempted to rewrite the laws of science, implicating the officer in wrongdoing of which she was entirely innocent, as well as subjecting Scottish criminal justice to worldwide derision.  (see Shirley McKie, wikipedia) 

When his  Holyrood coalition fell to the Tribesmen, Wallace's brain-numbing, grinning incompetence saw him rewarded with a seat in the Lords 
 
and yet another paid ministerial position, this time  in  the Clegg-Cameron axis. By local standards, indeed by any standards, Wallace is fabulously wealthy, grandly enriched by the taxpayer.  Now that he has helped put LibDemmery  in the political swillbin, along with the NF and the BNP,  Wallace only manages to claim from us three hundred pounds a day, for showing-up at the Lords, and then doing as he pleases.  With his fees in mind, Wallace was obviously anxious not to be delayed on his Monday flight-to-work.

And so, too, was Carmichael, for no sooner was  he aboard than he was reminding the  stewardess of his importance, 

 

of how he had to make his connection, it was vitally important that he get off first, as befitted his stature as a disgraced politician.  Catching himself in full arrogant flow Al added that it wasn't just him,  there were other passengers, too, with connections to make;  he meant his mate, Lord Wallace.  Carmichael continued  throughout the flight to remind the stewardess of his personal eminence.
   I couldn't quite hear all of it, so I don't know if he asked her to kick the pilot's arse but I wouldn't be in the least surprised to learn that he had.   
Now, it is well known locally that many of the morning flights from Orkney to Aberdeen carry NHS patients, bound for the city's Royal Infirmary and given the size of the tiny aircraft they are clearly visible;  some appointments are routine, some, like mine, are for specialist treatment and some are for those in serious distress and discomfort; all, given the stresses on NHS Grampian and Scottish NHS generally, are time-dependent, at least as important, anyone would think, as the diary appointments of a non-ministerial, disgraced MP and a superannuated parasite. 
 
Some of the passengers looked as if  their lives could depend upon their appointments;  they were the sort of people to whom anyone, absolutely anyone,  would say, No, please, you go first. 
 Not our democratic representatives, not Carmichael and Wallace.

We must ask you to remain seated, squeaked the stewardess over the speaker, while we help other passengers make their connections.  Thank you for your patience. 

Wallace came barging down the aisle, eyes fixed on his feet, brushing past the inconvenient sick and the impudent lame - his neighbours and former constituents -  as though they didn't exist;  Carmichael, at the front, lumbered off the plane without a sideways glance at his seriously ill constituents.   I felt lucky that neither had felt the need to horsewhip us.

A few minutes elapsed while calls were made from the cockpit and the cabin to check on the progress of our statesmen and then the paying passengers and the sick patients  were allowed to alight.

I missed my appointment by just five minutes and I don't know what happened to everyone else, maybe their clinicians juggled things a bit, just as long as it didn't impede Wallace's progress towards his money or Carmichael's  urgent attendance at whatever it is which his party of eight MPs  finds urgent.

We few, we precious few, we band of brothers

During round one of the Neverendum, Carmichael's inept handling of his role as Scottish Secretary resulted in the demise of his party in the following General Election. Campaigning for the Union, Carmichael proved to be a Scottish Tory lawyer revealing his true colours.  North of the border, his shaky and deeply unsettled constituency - his majority was almost eliminated -  is now  the only Scottish seat in LibDem hands, so he is probably as welcome among LibDem Westminster survivors as is Ed Miliband at Labour HQ. 
I did ask the stewardess or whatever they are called, cabin crew members, if I could get off before Mr Carmichael, as I had a medical appointment and I was as delayed as he was; she just laughed, as though I was joking; I believe that the New Serviles are trained to react thus to any citizen-suspect who opens his gob. I felt that if I remonstrated further I would be met at Aberdeen by minimum-wage security-serviles who might easily and joyfully kill me. Flight delays are a fact of life, here, and many disciplines can juggle things, although others cannot, surgeons, for instance, may have disappeared into theatre by the time some patients arrive and may not be available for consultation for weeks or months. But all of that is beside the point, the crux of my complaint is that even if everybody else on the plane had been in need of immediate, life-saving surgery, Carmichael and Wallace would still have asserted their imagined primacy and everybody would've gone along with it.
 I shall not easily forget the naked, brutal self-interest of this pair of political cocksuckers and I cordially invite Brother Corbyn to add them to his growing list of candidates for the Big Shiny Guillotine of State. 
The people of Orkney, of course,  should pelt them with rotting turnips.

 ..............................................................

 

In June 2009, Carmichael was involved in a successful campaign against the book by Max Scratchmann, Chucking it All: How Downsizing to a Windswept Scottish Island Did Absolutely Nothing to Improve My Life.  Carmichael's complaints to the publisher led them to cancel publication. mr ishmael bought the book before it disappeared into the book pulping machine - and we read it with glee. An account of Scratchmann's experience downshifting from Manchester to Orkney, it debunked the Quality of Life Orkney myth - and was bloody funny, not least when the author mistakes a big hare for a little kangaroo, and describes the surreal experience of shopping in the Big Tesco in Inverness in the early hours of the morning. His air of amazed wonder instantly identified him as Fromm Orkney - back then, Orkney had no Tesco, no late night shopping, no aisle after aisle of utterly desirable food, (vegetables that grow above the ground!) clothes and perfumed ironing water.  

The Good Reads review says: With its remorseless true-life account of downshifting to a remote Scottish island, Chucking it All uncovers the frightening realities of relocating to “a magical island lost in the mists of time” as you follow the warts-and-all adventures of urban misanthrope, Max Scratchmann, as he valiantly tries to forge a new life in windswept Orkney, and grumbles his way through unending winters with eighteen-hour nights, nocturnal visits from drunken farmers and booty calls from desperate divorcees. From struggling to fit in as a temporary postman in a wilderness where houses don’t display numbers or names, to attending drunken country ceilidhs with the island singles’ club, or finding himself up to the neck in local politics while performing in the village pantomime, Chucking It All is an urbanite’s nightmare and one of the most hilarious books that you will read this year. Irreverent, sarcastic and bitingly caustic, Chucking It All still manages to be a grudgingly affectionate portrait of rural life through the eyes of a cynical outsider, and is one of the truest accounts of “living the dream” ever published.

I liked it, too, but Big Al Carmichael said it was "hurtful and vindictive", and attacked a number of "clearly identifiable" residents of the islands. 

Anyway, not the most reliable judge of a book nor of appropriate electioneering tactics, I'm not placing too much credence  on Big Al, proven and admitted liar, when he tells us not to worry about they pesky Rooskies and their cable cutters and spy ships.

What was very odd, on the Laura Whatsername show this morning, was the complete  absence of any reporting or analysis of the October attacks on infrastructure and the presence in British waters of an enemy surveillance vessel. Whoops, silly me. Of course, we're not at war. So, instead, Laura devoted the majority of her show to Spit Gove and his apologia for Su-Ellen and her Hilary-Clintonesque way with an e-mail. Nothing to see here, move along, she's said sorry hasn't she? 

Caption Contest

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All that remained were the footprints, slowly filling with water.