Tuesday, 18 December 2018

It's "Bah-Humbug" time

At this time of year when the vast majority of folk are "Fou tae kitty's bow" with drink, food and bonhomie you possibly wonder about those folks who do not seem to be that bothered or are indeed "Bah-Humbugers"; folk for good reason who hate this time of year. More likely you do not give a shit - given food, drink and bonhomie.

For those with depressive illnesses, the enforced season to be happy takes a massive toll on their coping energy levels, reducing their own abilities to keep the black dog of depression under control. You see, it takes folk with depressive illness a lot of effort and energy to be "normal" at the best of times and when the festive "normal" rises to new levels of enforced happiness, it becomes just too much for many and tips them over the edge into "Bah-Humbug" territory. A territory where being alone is far preferable to being cajoled into being "happy", by folk, in disbelief asking,  "Why can't you just cheer up, it's Christmas?" every half an hour. Worse are those well meaning folk who think a few drams are all you need to sort you out. Sorry, all you well meaning drink pushers, if you are depressed, alcohol makes things far worse, not better.

The coping strategy becomes one of seeking isolation where ever possible just to give you a chance of surviving the "Season to be jolly" with out a full blown collapse. You become selective of those Christmas events either social or familial you attend, carefully planning your escape route for when it gets too much, as on most occasions it will. No one understands your need to become a Christmas introvert, you are called anti-social or worse. Comments which really help you on your way down the slippery slip to a full blown collapse.

I am lucky, my close family understand my need to be alone with a book on Christmas Day and make sure I know I can just bail out when it gets too much. I enjoy seeing my grandchildren opening their presents, I will help build the Lego or whatever toy needs building, I will sit on the floor with them and play Christmas games like "Smelly Wellies" but there comes a point where Granddad needs his space, time on his own to recharge his batteries. Kid's naturally understand this, they need the same space themselves -  it is adults who have forgotten this in their rush to be "happy", for a few short days.

This year I am on my own for Christmas, I do not feel isolated, I will talk to my son and his family in Japan by Skype, probably in a two or three way conversation with my daughter and family in Northern Ireland and my ex-wife in Oban. Then take the dog for a long walk and come home to duck breast and trimmings. Later I will have a small dram of the new malt my ex-wife has sent me, Ailsa Bay, and settle down to a serial watching of Star Wars.

Selfish, you say, most certainly, but also the best way to keep myself in mental balance.

To my fellow "Bah-Humbugers" I send you a big dose of empathy, to the the vast majority, "Season's Greetings" and to all a "Guid an hansome New Year an lang may yer lum reek."

Tuesday, 11 December 2018


In the House of the 'Living Dead' at Westminster the red and blue zombie tribes circle each other around the carcase of the UK Parliamentary Union, seeking to find the best advantage for their own self interest. They poke the carcase from time to time just in case there is still life left in it; but there it sits inert, dead, decaying, stinking away in a pool of its own shit and pish.

They appear surprised the UK Parliamentary Union carcase is dead, they can not comprehend why that can be, "Well", they grunt to each other, "We only took small bites out of it when it was alive, it can't be our fault its dead." There, in nutshell, you have the problem with the zombies at Westminster, they can not understand they have only left the bare bones. The red and blue zombies continue to circle the carcase in an ineffective game of pin the Brexit blame on the donkey. Sadly they forget they have eaten that as well and only have themselves to pin it on. Yet it does not stop them from trying.

There are some brave folks trying to stop the rampant zombieism at Westminster but what can they do against such a tide of dead men and women walking, stumbling around saying "Brexit" in ever decreasing circles until the zombies start disappearing up each others arseholes until you can not tell which is of the red zombie tribe and which are blue zombies.

The UK media is still trying to spin the lies these zombies offer the best hope for Britain (aka England) while ignoring bits are falling off both the prime minister and the leader of the opposition leaving a trail of digits and useless internal organs in their wake. The May zombie's ears must have fallen off, it is the only explanation for her extreme deafness over the issue of Brexit renegotiation. The EU 27 have made it very clear the deal on the table is Hobson's Choice; take it or leave it. There is no other option.

Some where else in the zombie circle Corbozombie zigs and zags, then forgets whether he had zagged or zigged as he dreams of becoming Prime Zombie. It will never happen of course because he goes to pieces like a chocolate hand grenade when the slightest of pressure is applied.

This is how UK democracy has died, eaten to a shell by the red and blue zombies of Westminister.

Next, they will be after you - wait, they have already started; as the austerity so beloved of the zombies has already killed twice as many UK citizens as Hitler managed in the 1940 / 41 Blitz according to the zombies own figures.

I ask: just how long before the zombies move on Scotland, the SNP can only keep them away for so long. Time for Scots to take preventative action and isolate ourselves from Westminster's zombie politics.

Tuesday, 4 December 2018

Catch 2.2

Lord Major-Major had a problem, his problem was this; two of his squadrons were asking permission to bomb each other in a deal with UKIP. The argument was this was a cost effective way to continue the Tory Party Civil War over Europe and kept UKIP on the side-lines.

His subordinate and aide Colonel Grey sat sipping the rather second rate Cyprus sherry his Lordship was so fond of while trying not to hear the rattle of three dried peas being manipulated in his Lordship's left hand.

Lord Major-Major leaned forward as if to speak, opened his mouth like a gaping fish then, just as suddenly, closed and leaned back again in his chair. His lordship closed his eyes and sighed leaned forward and engaged Colonel Grey's eyes.

"So the "Tory: Utter Bastards" group want my support over Ms May's deal so they can bomb the "Utter Bastard Tories" and vice-versa for the "no deal" group. Hhmmm!  A tricky one, Grey, don't you think?"

"As both are utter bastards, sir, I don't see the problem?"

"It is a matter of degree, Grey, of degree! My problem is, I know they are all utter bastards after what they did to me. Yet I have the integrity of the Conservative Party to consider."

"Bit of an oxymoron there, sir, Conservative Party and integrity in the same sentence."

"What? Oh! Very droll, Grey, vey droll. I need to think how to keep overall party unity so there are some survivors to keep our mighty UK Parliamentary Union under our singular control as the natural party of government."

"Don't think the Jocks see the Conservatives as the natural party of Government, given the popularity of the SNP over the other side of Hadrian's Wall. Not even the Corbynator can claim Scotland as a Labour fiefdom any longer. Time to get real. sir, we need to shorten our battle lines and let the Jocks go before they walk any way."

"I can not allow that to happen because if I do both the "Tory: Utter Bastards" and the "Utter Bastard Tories" will turn on me and claim it is all my fault because I undermined May or the idiot savant Boris Johnson's by breaking our glorious United Kingdom with my dithering. Apart from that; if the Jock's take away, with them, physical and fiscal control of the oil, the gas and the electricity supply we are truly screwed. London's lights go off with out Jock electricity. The hike in petrol prices alone in the SE will make Paris' current rioting look like a picnic, chuck in the hike in gas and electricity costs in England and the SE in particular ... see what I mean?"

"Surely someone in the Conservative Party's leadership saw this coming, the warning was there in 2014, squeeze the Jocks any further and they will say "Stuff the UK for a game of soldiers". The less polite Jocks will be slightly more robust in their comment, especially now the Conservative Party have actually done all the things to Scotland they said would not happen, if they stayed in the UK Union."

"But Grey, the Jock's know their place - under the English thumb. Why would they get in a fuss, never have before in 300 odd years, after all they said "NO" in 2014. My problem is not the Jocks. they are always whining, it is the Conservative Party is too big and important to go bust; if it does, it will be a disaster for Queen and Country. Who will protect the Windsor tax dodgers and bludgers? Who will preserve our tax havens? The City of London Ponzi scams? All the other things that make us British! I can not allow this to happen, it will not happen on my watch."

A lackey enters bearing gifts, Grey opens the message envelops and reads:

"First message reads, "The Tory Government has just been found guilty of contempt of Parliament and must release all legal advice it has received on Brexit". The second message reads "The Jock's have won their advisory case in the European Court of Justice on the ability to stop Brexit dead in the water by a simple vote of the UK Parliament."

"Utter bastards!"