It's the day efter the nicht afore and ma heid's still mince.
Am a goin' daft's ae Millandman wi a breid board short a fu' loaf?
Yon Telegraph pittin' oor Nicola oot afore a'body, wha wid 've thocht thon yon wid eever happenstance?
Ye ken, 'Michty me' disnae cut thon mustard nor 'help ma boab' neither whin yon wee lassie wis sent intae thon Lion's den, lik aa feminist Samuel, an lik the man cam oot unscathed, na ane hair oan her heid oot o place, wi thon Westmeenstir bogles frothin' at the mou, grinding thir gums wi fury as they kent the cat wis oot thon bag. Yon SNP wernae thon Diel incarnate, skirlin the pipes tae mak the carlins birl an' screamin tae bring curses on a'body in England, bit fowk wi a bit aa sense, Scottis canniness an a care for aa the fowk; na jist them wi fat purses, jingling wi goud and siller lik thon Westmeenster bogles' pals.
Quhit dae thon Lun'on bradsheets mak o this breengin' affair?
Weel thir aa riddy talkin' it doon an' tryin to mak oot quhit happen'd didnae happen, it wis aa somthin' deeferent, ye ken, an na quhit a'body saw wi' thir ane een. Bit thon quine wha hud a stairheid rammy wi Cameron wis gie'n her chance tae say her piece, efter she wis given the boot frae the ha', on Sky an ither news speak. Quhit she hud tae say wis tae the point an' pointed up aa thon tosh an' nonsense the lik aa Cameron hud bin spoutin forth oan. Her speel wis the nummer o' sudger's an ithers aa their ilk left oan thon streets wi nae roof o'er thir heids efter facing shot an shell on the cuntrie's behest. Fowk wi thir brains turned tae mince by quhit the saw an did fir yon government, fowk wha efter battle couldnae face quhit we ithers lik tae ca' normal life cos they fund it repellent an' dishonest. Wha's brains wir richt skelly efter bein dumped by the fowk they thocht wid look efter them. Cameron an' his military covenant, says she, jist mair pish an wind, na fit tae wipe yer erse oan; lik a wheen o' ither promises thit pass thon man's lips an bla awa tae be heard o' nae mair.
Thin there's the fowk aroont England wha heard wi thir ane lugs quhit oor Nicola hud tae speel an' frae her ane lip's an aa. Mony Englis fowk hud the scales ta'en fram thir een an' saw quhit we Scottis hud seen fir mony a year, lang syne; the heid o a political party talkin' sense, pittin' fowk an' na greed front an' centre. Forbye mony Englis tak'd tae Twitter tae say hoo they wantit tae vote SNP bit couldnae cos they wirnae in Scotland, thirs na SNP stannin' in England an hoo sad thit wis fir them, fir they didnae hae a chance tae vote fir a proper social democratic party.
Thon BBC's still poorin oot thir poison aboot oor Nicola, tryin's tae tell us aa thit black is the new white. They cannae thole thit fowk across the UK sa' quhit the SNP wis actually aboot an' oan a different channel an aa. Thir fair seek tae thir ane stomach an tryin thir sleekit ways tae mak oot it wis jist ae load aa ould blether's frae Nicola an' thir man Murphy is still goan tae tak aa afore him. Its enough tae mak ye greet, sae it is, as thon BBC maks a richt muckle clamjamwhamphrey whilst as giud as hingin' thirsels frae ae lampost a'nent Pacific Quay.
Thirs a richt stramash doon in Lun'on, thon Britis Establisment is fair bowkin whilst wunnerin' quhit tae dae next an' hoo thir goan tae exorcise Nicola frae the minds a aw thon thole Englis fowk wha heard an' saw her speel. I heard said thir ha'en a lookit James Saxth's book oan witchcraft tae see iffen thit could gie them a guide tae find some Deil's mark oan Nicola sae they can pit her and her familiar, Salmond, tae the fire. Thits hoo much thir noo shitten thir breeks.
Guid Friday? .... aye it micht jist be fir aince.
Am a goin' daft's ae Millandman wi a breid board short a fu' loaf?
Yon Telegraph pittin' oor Nicola oot afore a'body, wha wid 've thocht thon yon wid eever happenstance?
Ye ken, 'Michty me' disnae cut thon mustard nor 'help ma boab' neither whin yon wee lassie wis sent intae thon Lion's den, lik aa feminist Samuel, an lik the man cam oot unscathed, na ane hair oan her heid oot o place, wi thon Westmeenstir bogles frothin' at the mou, grinding thir gums wi fury as they kent the cat wis oot thon bag. Yon SNP wernae thon Diel incarnate, skirlin the pipes tae mak the carlins birl an' screamin tae bring curses on a'body in England, bit fowk wi a bit aa sense, Scottis canniness an a care for aa the fowk; na jist them wi fat purses, jingling wi goud and siller lik thon Westmeenster bogles' pals.
Quhit dae thon Lun'on bradsheets mak o this breengin' affair?
Weel thir aa riddy talkin' it doon an' tryin to mak oot quhit happen'd didnae happen, it wis aa somthin' deeferent, ye ken, an na quhit a'body saw wi' thir ane een. Bit thon quine wha hud a stairheid rammy wi Cameron wis gie'n her chance tae say her piece, efter she wis given the boot frae the ha', on Sky an ither news speak. Quhit she hud tae say wis tae the point an' pointed up aa thon tosh an' nonsense the lik aa Cameron hud bin spoutin forth oan. Her speel wis the nummer o' sudger's an ithers aa their ilk left oan thon streets wi nae roof o'er thir heids efter facing shot an shell on the cuntrie's behest. Fowk wi thir brains turned tae mince by quhit the saw an did fir yon government, fowk wha efter battle couldnae face quhit we ithers lik tae ca' normal life cos they fund it repellent an' dishonest. Wha's brains wir richt skelly efter bein dumped by the fowk they thocht wid look efter them. Cameron an' his military covenant, says she, jist mair pish an wind, na fit tae wipe yer erse oan; lik a wheen o' ither promises thit pass thon man's lips an bla awa tae be heard o' nae mair.
Thin there's the fowk aroont England wha heard wi thir ane lugs quhit oor Nicola hud tae speel an' frae her ane lip's an aa. Mony Englis fowk hud the scales ta'en fram thir een an' saw quhit we Scottis hud seen fir mony a year, lang syne; the heid o a political party talkin' sense, pittin' fowk an' na greed front an' centre. Forbye mony Englis tak'd tae Twitter tae say hoo they wantit tae vote SNP bit couldnae cos they wirnae in Scotland, thirs na SNP stannin' in England an hoo sad thit wis fir them, fir they didnae hae a chance tae vote fir a proper social democratic party.
Thon BBC's still poorin oot thir poison aboot oor Nicola, tryin's tae tell us aa thit black is the new white. They cannae thole thit fowk across the UK sa' quhit the SNP wis actually aboot an' oan a different channel an aa. Thir fair seek tae thir ane stomach an tryin thir sleekit ways tae mak oot it wis jist ae load aa ould blether's frae Nicola an' thir man Murphy is still goan tae tak aa afore him. Its enough tae mak ye greet, sae it is, as thon BBC maks a richt muckle clamjamwhamphrey whilst as giud as hingin' thirsels frae ae lampost a'nent Pacific Quay.
Thirs a richt stramash doon in Lun'on, thon Britis Establisment is fair bowkin whilst wunnerin' quhit tae dae next an' hoo thir goan tae exorcise Nicola frae the minds a aw thon thole Englis fowk wha heard an' saw her speel. I heard said thir ha'en a lookit James Saxth's book oan witchcraft tae see iffen thit could gie them a guide tae find some Deil's mark oan Nicola sae they can pit her and her familiar, Salmond, tae the fire. Thits hoo much thir noo shitten thir breeks.
Guid Friday? .... aye it micht jist be fir aince.
It wis Daniel no Samuel. An Ah'm no surprised tae see thon wee turnaboot frae The Telegraph his revertit back tae the usual lees and contempt fir the facts.
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