Thursday, 3 March 2016

Three Little Pigs ....

In a land, far, far away; there once lived three little pigs, Hogfather Dewar, Widdler Wallace and Mumper Forsyth. For as long as they could remember they had lived their lives in the great Westminster hog farm, snouts in the trough occasionally saying the word 'Scotland' every four or five years for no apparent reason they ever understood but it kept their noses in the trough. At the end of every day they returned to their comfy personalised sties made of straw, shit and sand and pish and wind; named Too Poor, Too Stupid and Too Wee, respectively.

Life was fine because they had the bad wolf of home rule and the big bad wolf of independence firmly under lock and key, hidden away in the depths of the deep dark woods. No one knows how, but the bad wolf of home rule escaped and began to roam wild across Scotland, howling their scary cry, to the three pigs of 'Almost freedom'. Committees of the old, bold with their hands in the Three Pigs pocket's were raised and sought out how best to get the bad wolf of Home Rule back in its cage, stopping its scary rampage in Scotland as more and more Scots took up its ancient howl of 'Home Rule' and worse, some Scots were increasingly heard crying the big bad wolf's howl, 'Independence'.

The failure of the Three Pigs best friend's talking shops to come up with any ideas was thought of as 'good politics' until the new Head Boar, Blair, got a bit of a roasting over the lack of democracy in the UK, especially in the regions, and if he wanted some nice EU jobs when he was done in the Westminster Pig Farm, he better toe the line if this particular little piggy wanted to go to market.

One day while his nose was in the trough, Hogfather Dewar felt a trotter on the shoulder and was summoned before the Head Boar. The Head Boar asked if Hogfather had found away to put the bad wolf of Scotch home rule back in its cage and if not when? As it was causing his other Boars a deal of irritable bowel trouble at the thought of all that oil and gas revenue plus Labour's UK majority heading for the pork butchers to end up as a selection of chitterlings, trotters, sausages and hams.

Hogfather decided maybe the best way was to give into the Scots and create a sort of home rule that was not really home rule and rigged to ensure he, Widdler and Mumper could keep their noses in the trough with the warm feeling they had done something for the Scots, for once. Hogfather was surprised at the other two's lack of excitement as Widdler said "Maybes aye" and Mumper said "No, never, not by the hairs on my chinny, chin-chin".

In spite of the lack of enthusiasm from the other two pigs Hogfather went ahead, set up yet another committee of his Scotch pals and people no normal person in Scotland had ever heard of, to rubber stamp his idea and went ahead anyway knowing Widdler would see the error of his ways when the new trough came along in Edinburgh, anyway he was under orders from the Head Boar to get it sorted. So the two remaining pigs, as Mumpers house of pish and wind had been blown down by the electorate of Kinross, leaving him reliant 'on the bru' until some Conservative Boar found him a pauper's place in the House of Lords, to rest his weary head went ahead with the Holyrood trough.

So it came to pass the Fairy Godmother of Saxe-Coburg waved her magic wand and Scotland was given its 'powers lite' home rule rigged to ensure the supporters of the Big Bad Wolf would never get anywhere near the keys to the big bad wolf's paddock so Hogfather and Widdler's noses would remain in the trough sine die.

This whole scam might have worked but the Hogfather contracted swine disease and suddenly died, leaving Widdler all on his own, reliant on an inbred litter of the Hogfather's piglets, all fighting each other to get on the biggest teat or deepest part of the trough, for support, while their sow from Westminster tried to eat them.

In the background the howls of the wolves of 'Home Rule' and 'Independence' grew ever louder and closer in the Scottish woods around their expensive, new stye at Holyrood. Widdler and his new pal Snorker McConnell tried their best at huffing and puffing to stop their houses collapsing around them but in 2007 Labour's house of straw was blown in and the Libdems house of shite and sand followed Mumpers house of pish and wind down the river.

The wolves were now in the building and were not going away, no matter how much, how often or how loudly the subsequent Hogfather and Widdler blood line litters cried 'Wolf' to the people of Scotland. A lesson, to this day, our latter day little piggies seem unable to learn or understand as on a full moon every four or five years, in May, their numbers decline ever further - not through being eaten by the wolves they decry and fear but by a simple pencil mark, made by the people of Scotland.

It seems Scots are quite happy with the re-introduction of wolves in Scotland.

1 comment:

  1. I'll take the wolfen any day, in tooth and claw.