"BREAKING: Now "YesScotland" website is selling drugs to
your children. Probably."
What is this man on?
I mean, in the rough and tumble of the political playground you expect a grazed knee or a wee hooligan to grab a girls pigtails, maybe someone to kick your ball away, but there are limits. Aren't there? Or was the rule book completely tossed away the day the SNP came to power?
Now, I don't expect to agree with every politician. I will disagree with many of them but I will respect them if they are sincere and fight their corners with coherent words. But I can't respect Tom Harris. I often wonder if he's trying to carve out a place for himself in the comedy niche that surely exists at Westminster. Actually, it's probably pretty full up at the moment, so maybe he's trying to invent a new club for politicians who are quite beyond the pale and have nothing positive to contribute. I despair for Scotland. Tom is enough to make you weep with utter embarrassment.
On another subject, the remoteness of the Highlands was brought home to me this morning. On a rare day off I walked to my local newspaper shop in Drumnadrochit only to find that there were no papers on the shelf. Why? A head on smash on the A9, which very sadly resulted in the deaths of 2 drivers. One of the vehicles was taking the daily papers up to Inverness. So no papers here today. The resulting blockage of the A9 also resulted in some produce not being available in supermarkets. An upgrade to the A9 is long overdue, actually it is a national scandal that the road is single track in many stretches. If there was a positive argument for Independence then an upgrade to Scotland's transport system would win many a Yes vote. Politicians take note. Except Tom Harris, he would probably make some bad taste joke at the expense of the people living up here.
And onto my last topic of the day. I went out to hang up my washing today, it's a washing kind of day, sunny, light breeze and I couldn't move for bunting. Red, white and blue, street parties in the village, cries of God Save the Queen, the National Anthem straining from hundreds of throats.
Actually, I'm talking complete rubbish. An Enid Blyton view of Drumnadrochit perhaps, but very far from the truth. I personally couldn't care a jot about the jubilee. It hasn't escaped my notice that there is an awful lot of coverage on the TV and radio. So while we are all struggling to make a living, pay the bills and wondering when someone from the Leveson enquiry will be carted off to the Tower, let's remember the pomp and circumstance that is currently being rolled out to remind us all what a thoroughly grateful bunch of subjects we all are. Or, if you are me, you are able to spit out the rubbish that they attempt to ram down my throat. I've got better things to think about.