The Judge RANTS!
Date: 19/09/14
Scunnered
You had one job to do, didn't you Scotland? Just one job.
And that job was not to be 'brave', or 'bold', or 'courageous'. It was just to be normal; to be what the people of every other country are - to want to control their own destiny as a society; to want to make that society one which they would be happy to live in, and content to bring their children into.
And when it came to it, you were simply too much a bunch of fucking pussies to do it. Weren't you? WEREN'T YOU?
You allowed yourselves to made fearful of your own futures, fearful of your own hopes, fearful of your own fucking shadows. Didn't you? I SAID 'DIDN'T YOU?'! Yes, made fearful by people and organisations who never have and never will have your best interests close to what passes for their hearts.
So, good luck with facing the sneering, contorted faces of the politicians who knew you better than you knew yourselves, and who knew how easy it was going to be to get you back into your baskets; good luck with having to watch, totally powerless because you removed all power from your own hands, whilst the over-regarded and over-rewarded media pundits smarm their way back to London to carry on patronising you (or, worse still, dismissing you outright); and good luck with the dawning realisation that you have just voted to turn your proud old nation into a mere region - for ever.
And what have you done to the rest of us on this island, you fearty fannies? You were the best hope of peaceful change to a system which has blighted the lives of millions and will determinedly, gleefully go on doing so. The ancien régime will go on becoming even more arrogant, even more overbearing, even more heedless of the suffering they cause, because they now know that there is nothing left that can stop them short of armed revolt in the streets (which is not, let us face the cruel facts, going to happen, and which would be put down by force with the warm approval of all of those poisonous elements in our body politic who have managed to persuade you to strangle your own bairns' hopes at birth). You - possibly out of some twisted, malign, misbegotten definition of 'solidarity' - have not only emboldened them, but you have permanently handed power over to Them to do to Us what you had the chance to stop them from doing to You.
Oh yes, some of you will fight on, or so you claim. But it'll bring nothing but a hollow laugh and derisive chuckles from around the world from people who simply cannot comprehend how you could have been so dense, so cowardly as to pass up a chance that millions have actually fought and died for for their own lands.
So you'll carry on voting in your hundreds of thousands for the Labour Party, who have sold you, your progeny yea even until the second or third generations and their inheritance for their place at the Westminster trough; you'll carry on sitting there on your hurdies watching the Great Imperial Austerity Bake-Off, beamed in at you by broadcasting organisations who are lying to you, who know that they are lying to you, who know that you know that they're lying to you, AND DON'T NEED TO FUCKING CARE ANYMORE that you know.
In short, you'll only end up doing what London's subject peoples can always be relied upon to do; fight against each other like rats in a sack. Well, you refused to climb out of the sack, so it's probably better that the rest of the world leaves you to it.
And if any of you so much as dares start to sing Flower Of Scotland from this day on...
Addendum (later that day): It's gone eleven at night, at the end of one of the most dispiriting of days. I've never felt so depressed by a political event in my whole life. Perhaps I invested too much of my own emotional capital in something that wasn't really all that much to do with me; but there are those who have given two years or more of their lives to the cause of democracy and an end to hopelessness - not just people like Stuart Campbell and Paul Kavanagh, but the thousands upon thousands of people who trudged the streets, knocked on doors, manned stalls and just generally spread the word which was never going to be spread by corporate media which must now been seen as open enemies to any democractic and progressive politics on this wretched little island.
I have watched them, cheered them on, and dared - for just a few months of my life - to hope. I have felt every small triumph, every hard knock, every crest and trough. They've become like friends to me.
And their reward? To be shat on by two million of their fellow residents of Scotland who think that foodbanks, 'Work Capability Assessments' and ongoing, grinding poverty for a full quarter of their country's children is a price worth paying for their sense of comfort and entitlement. The breakdown that I've seen suggests very strongly that the heaviest weight of 'No' voters was in the over-55 age groups. Indeed, they it was who swung this referendum. I hope that they enjoy explaining to their grandchildren in the next few years that their lives in their own country are shite because Granny was scared that she would have all her money taken off her by the 'nasty Nats' (it must be true; that nice, widely-respected Mr. Brown told her it would - at least four times).
The other 'reward' that 'Yes' supporters have had today is the sight of a tanked-up mob of hardline Unionists rioting in central Glasgow, waving the Union Rag, singing Rule Britannia and making Hitler salutes in front of a fucking war memorial. 'Better Together', eh?
And the promises of 'Devo Max', or 'Devo Mocks', or 'Devo [inaudible mumble]'? They've already started to crumble within eighteen hours of the result being announced. As we knew that they would be.
These are grim times, my friends. I'm off to bed...if my anger will let me sleep, of course.
