It’s been a week and….well bugger, bollocks and to hell with it all. That didn’t turn out as expected.
No, no that’s really not a fair way to put it but you’re lucky I waited till now to…erm….let us say express myself. If this had been last Friday the air would have been awash with a shade of indigo as the expletives echoes off the walls. Hmm well no it probably wouldn’t have been that bad. A few little f-bombs. A fiddlesticks here, a furfucksake there. Oh yes that’s all one word. But all that quickly fizzled out leaving nothing but slight relaxed feeling and the subtle aroma of melted mint.
I’ll admit that I did feel quite dejected about it all and was forced to throw myself into bacon, doughnuts and boobs to raise my spirits. It was a good plan but after the bacon and doughnut failed I didn’t even get to the other one. But it was a Millionaire Shortbread doughnut. Caramel filled, chocolate topped, shortbread sprinkles. You can’t shove a heavenly delicacy like that in your face and not expect it to bring a little bit of good cheer. It failed.
Ah but now that the days have gone past and there is the mental regrouping and surveying the battle damage over the past week I feel a touch more optimis…no, no that’s taking it a bit too far. A little less pessimistic perhaps.
Things inevitably change. Although there has been more than a little hinting that we should sit quietly and bow our heads in deference to the winning side but really I can’t see that happening. I may not like the name “The 45”, referencing the 45% that voted Yes. I don’t know about it. I feel it should be something a bit more inviting. I quite like “Yes” it was very positive and you can’t help smile when you say it. Have you tried frowning and saying Yes? I’m sitting here doing just now and it’s like my face wants to rebel and let you an almighty and splendiferous smirk of Yes-inducing smiliness. The 45 has turned out to be a rallying cry to all those who desperately wanted change but missed out by just a smidge. A smidge of a couple of hundred thousand but there’s always a chance they’ll come over to the Yes side should the promise of more powers be reneged on or maybe they wont but I hope the will but if they don’t then I’m sure something else will pop up so that they do but I wouldn’t put money on it. Though that’s mostly due to my frugality.
Ah but let us not dwell on what was, what might have been and concentrate on what could be. For I look at the future and it is still chock full of possible independence and perhaps a robot apocalypse. I can see it coming for us. One day when you’re not expecting it the toaster will spit out the white-hot Pop Tart, blinding you and leaving you helpless to the impending doom of the army of merciless kitchen appliances that will be nought but a tickle in comparison to the gang of gardening monstrosities that shall hurl themselves at you. Don’t worry though, the petrol lawnmower will always be on your side just as long as you keep it well oiled. Now that is something that will be far easier to do now as this week the North Sea has magically filled up with oil again and there’s new technology to make it last longer. If only we’d known about it last week. If only. It’s not like they’re now saying the NHS does actually need savin…oh they are saying that now. Well they wouldn’t no admit an independent Scotland would be economically better of…oh right, an article in the Scotsman mentions that. A more cynical person might think that something was afoot.
I am a cynical person.
But no, no, no there’s little point in rehashing all this. Let’s move on and Unilaterally Declare Indepen…bah no that’s just…I mean it only….I…No. That’s really not the way to do it. Let’s have another vote. Those thing were fun. The excitement. The anticipation. The late night ramblings of tv presenters and politicians trying to fill hours of nothing with the same skill employer by golf commentators.
Maybe not to…we’ll definitely not today. It’s ten to nine, no one want’s to get started on those kind of shenanigans this late in the evening. No perhaps we’ll wait and see if the rest of the UK attempt to take us out of Europe in 2017 or we end up with a Conservative/UKIP coalition next year or they try to tax Irn Bru.
But we’re all friends again aren’t we? We are? No? Yes? Maybe? Too early to tell yet? Ah of course we are. In fact we should end this with dinner and a song.