Outrage! aka Scottish Independence Round 2

As we all know, there is an Arrse rule that directs that multiple threads should be started on each topic. Accordingly, we need something in the Naafi where we can more appropriately unleash the devastating power of wit and sarcasm that is starting to (naughtily) appear in the Scottish Independence thread over in the sensible and serious area of Current Affairs.
Two recent events have helped shape my opinion. Firstly, a couple of Arrsers started speculating that I might be a mad/nutty/scary/elderly scientist, due to my well-considered and well-researched posting over on the flooding thread – where I proved conclusively that global climate change is all the fault of the ecologists and their renewal/sustainable energy initiative.
Secondly, Jim30 posted an excellent item (on the "serious" Scottish Independence thread) about the perils of being boiled in a pot due to an ill-considered touristic venture into the wildlands of iScotland – set in the future, once the Scotznatz had driven the country back into the primitive age.

So, thanks to my scientific powers, I’m off to invent a timemachine. Once I’ve done that, I’ll go and tour iScotland and report back on what I see.
Actually I have already invented the timemachine. I did it in 2017 and so am able to dance the 2-step with the space/time continuum with impunity. For those who need to know, next Wednesday’s winning lottery numbers were 4, 12, 16, 22, 35 and 41. Hope it helps with the mortgage!*


Now, be warned, I’m no articulate and literate author. I’m unable to write literature such as you would read from the likes of Sheakespear, TS Elliott, Molliere, Sven Hassel, Douglas Reeman or Cernunnos - or even that chap who wrote about a clever sniffer dog "Wagtail": but here’s the account of the trip that I made in 2034, suitably illustrated with photos that I took, then published on the internet using other people’s identities to cover my traces. I will say - it's better written and considerably more interesting and TRUE than ACAB's book.




Travelogue commences:


It’s been quite a while since the UK of GB&NI was fractured by the success of the Scottish independence vote in 2014. Quite rapidly, the differences became apparent and the fortunes of the 2 countries developed according to their political creeds. The rebuilt Hadrian ’s Wall and EU-dictated Schengen-compatible border posts means that little interaction occurs. The time taken to apply for iScotland visas (issued only from the pan-EU visa office in Malta) is also quite tedious for most people. (Obviously I time-skipped the requisite 13 years into the future, got the visa stamp, then hopped back to 2034). It’s quite useful, this time machine – I don’t have to wait for the kettle to boil either!


My first interaction with the Alban authorities came at the Coldstream border post. I expressed surprise at the manning levels but was eventually informed by the shift boss’s boss’s boss that this was a result of the political course initiated by the SNP in 2015, when they ordained that there should be specific and separate teachers for each of the reading & writing skills. It seems that this was driven by a desire to get people off the dole, and it worked, but the unintended consequence was that the unions demanded ring-fencing of the disciplines and therefore standards fell due to the fact that those who could write weren’t allowed to speak and those who could speak weren’t allowed to write about it. Now, only a small minority of the population were able to both read and write. Hence the need for numerous border control officers, each armed with only that limited skillset. Charming people, they offered me a fritter-like snack – based on chocolate and nougat. It made me feel a bit queasy! None of them were prepare to admit to anything about possibly boiling Jim30 in a cooking pot.
After I had shown them how to hold a pen and how to stamp my passport – I was on my way. Travel was slow, as the roads had been turned into curling tracks – something required, so it seems, in order to comply with the working time directive (whatever that is). Undeterred, I continued towards Edinburgh and what I hoped might be a meeting with the Great Leader.

Photo of Alban border guards:

borderguards.jpg


Along the way, I stopped overnight at a delightful inn. Travel is not advised at night, due to the packs of Wolves that roam extensively. The inn-keeper explained that they had been introduced upon the orders of the Euro-commissar for ecology and naturalised bio-diversity. Their numbers had got out of control, as culling was not permitted without a permit – and the pan-EU permit issuing office (in Italy) had been on strike for a not-inconsiderable time.
Charming people, the inn-keeper offered me each of his children and his wife, should I wish to avail myself of the opportunity. He did mention that expanding the gene-pool locally was in his advantage, as he would obtain state hand-outs for any ethnically diverse offspring. None of them were prepare to admit to anything about possibly boiling Jim30 in a cooking pot.

Phot of the charming Inn-keeper's charming family:

nativewomen.jpg


The following day I reached the southern suburbs of Edinburgh. Posters of the Great Leader abounded. He clearly enjoyed massive popularist support. Enthusiastic and helpful public servants pointed me on my way to Holyrood. It seemed a little odd to see so many of them, at every junction, but it transpired that they were a vital tool for government revenue-raisers. Their morale seemed quite high, even though their language skills were lacking.

Phot of the friendly govt revenue collectors (the expression is due to the blinding sun light):

5046288-traffic-warden.jpg

Phot of a billboard showing the Great Leader:

greatleader.jpg


Holyrood palace was impressive and clearly well-suited to the needs of the Great Leader. I wasn’t sure about some of the decoration, but was informed by an aide that loving citizens kept coming and renewing the paintwork and graffiti – even though it embarrassed the Great Leader.

Phot of the Presidential palace:

Holyrood_Palace_dsc06059.jpg


I was offered a refreshing glass of IrnBru, when I finally was ushered in for my meeting with the Great Leader. He was actually much shorter in life than it looked on the posters. He told me that it was something to do with distorted perspective and quite embarrassing to him, as he didn’t personally see any need to “large himself up” as he put it. It seems that was a lie put about by Bully-boy Tory scaremongers from Westminstershire village who were jealous of his achievements since independence and the ease with which he had subjugated his people under the yoke of Angela Merkel. He showed me, as proof of the success of Alba (a non-autonomous region within the EU), the regional reserve (what we would call a National reserve, but the word “National” has been expunged since 2020 on the orders of the EU commissar for regional subservience.


The photograph shows the Great Leader holding the regional reserve.

scottish economy.jpg

He was nonplussed, albeit briefly, when I asked him if the card was just an access device – it seems that it was the actual reserve! When I suggested that it was possibly quite small, for an EU-subservient-region with such a wealth of resources as Alba’s, he retorted that retained wealth was theft and, anyway, if it wasn’t the EU’s fault for bleeding Alba until the pips squeaked then it was Billy-pants-on-fire-Sturgeon’s fault. Great Leader could not be held responsible for all aspects of Alban failure, after all. He’d been let down by his people (and the Tory bully-boys of Westminstershire village who should have stopped the referendum before it started).

Not surprisingly, he wasn’t prepared to admit to anything about possibly boiling Jim30 in a cooking pot. After all, his food was flown in daily from Poland – which held the coveted EU-regional-monopoly for production of greasy gristle pies.

He didn’t offer shag either (thankfully, as his sweaty complexion would repel even Ishtar), as he stated that he needed to retain his genes in as tight a community as possible due to the enormity of his destiny as “Father of the people of Alba”.


He did provide me with a Presidential escort for the next stage of my journey, onward towards the highlands, an offer for which I was grateful as it so happens. He even found the time to personally accompany me as far as the First bridge. It was an act of political genius, he informed me, to rename the Forth bridge such – as it showed further evidence (if such evidence was needed) that there was nothing 4[SUP]th[/SUP]-rate, 3[SUP]rd[/SUP]-rate or 2[SUP]nd[/SUP]-rate about the EU’s most recent fiefdom.

Phot of the First Bridge of the First-world-EU-subservient-region-of-Alba (which those embarrassing acolytes have daubed with statements of their love for the Great Leader):

12.ForthBridgeFirthofForthScotland.jpg


Travelogue ends (for now, as Mummy has called me down for Tea)




*** With respect to the winning lottery numbers – sozz about the low payout of £2,50 per ticket. It seems that there were an unprecedented number of winning entries next week! Time travel is not without its little contradictions and inconsistencies!
 
I really cannot justify spending more time on this right now, amusing though the satire, the casual racism and the bully-boy scaremongering is to me. Should there be sufficient interest shown, I’ll possibly get on to describing what happened when I spent a week in the highlands with a mystic, whether I found Jim30’s bones or even supped some Jim30-broth.
Could I reach the Western isles and determine if Whisky were still distilled? Did I get kidnapped and held for ransom in Castle Aagh!? Are Shetland and Orkney part of the Great Leader’s empire? (definition of empire subject to moderation by the EU-commissar for incorrect usage of terminology).
 
Very good. Can we count on your 'yes' vote then?!


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ACAB

LE
Edited coz Crepello said it was tongue in cheek and threatened to beat the **** out of me.

Those ******* Lottery numbers had better come up though!
 
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Tell me in 2017 is C5 still a ****

Do you want me to tell you now, or to wait until 2017 to tell you?

One of the laws of the space/time continuum is that while facts and history can be written & rewritten - opinions are subject to a greater authority and remain the property of the owner.*

Therefore, I suspect that you know the answer to your "question" already.



* this "statement, though not currently endorsed, has been approved by the EU-commissar for factual evidence (in 2056) and should therefore be considered "factual". In an ironic instance of karma, the afore-mentioned EU commissar will be (or is, if you're reading this in 2056) Info Ops' illegitimate love child (the product of unholy union with that fat ugly dorris who will shoot briefly to fame a couple of years ago in Simon Cowell's blockbuster "Bearded Ladies got talent".)

Cry free doom. The farce is strong again this evening, C5.
 
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Very good. Can we count on your 'yes' vote then?!


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It is my duty to inform you that, in finest Arrse sock-puppet tradition, you not only got my vote (yes, I know C5 I'm not eligible 'cos I'm an eeengleesh pigdog tory bully-boy from Westimstershire village - but this is just silliness & lightheartedness) but also the votes of my 67654567654876587 alter-egos.

Cry free doom. The farce is strong again this evening, Connor.
 
Can anyone précis the original post as I couldn't be arsed reading it but am yet curiously interested as to whether my Spidey senses were right in assuming that it was utter pish.
 
Can anyone précis the original post as I couldn't be arsed reading it but am yet curiously interested as to whether my Spidey senses were right in assuming that it was utter pish.

Your Spidey senses were correct. It is utter pish: irreverent, satirical and definitely immature pish. You'd be better off wasting considerably less time with the "Catering for 35..." thread, wich is over on another forum.

:)
 
Can anyone précis the original post as I couldn't be arsed reading it but am yet curiously interested as to whether my Spidey senses were right in assuming that it was utter pish.

In summary?

images


mince.jpg
 
Can any anybody tell me what the SNPs plan B is for the currency? Non of our resident cyberNats can tell me what I'll be paid in.
 
Pay me in coconuts. As long as Tesco take them...

Sent from my C6903 using ARRSE mobile app
 
For some inexplicable reason that picture makes me think of The Snail!

There's much more meat in that picture than on Dale.
 
Can any anybody tell me what the SNPs plan B is for the currency? Non of our resident cyberNats can tell me what I'll be paid in.

Aye, 10 Stovies to the Banock, 10 Banocks to the Skink
 
S

swampmonster

Guest
Can any anybody tell me what the SNPs plan B is for the currency? Non of our resident cyberNats can tell me what I'll be paid in.

Cans of out of date Super Lager....a bloke down the pub with blue wode on told me so it must be true.. 😉

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Can any anybody tell me what the SNPs plan B is for the currency? Non of our resident cyberNats can tell me what I'll be paid in.

Pieces of silver. :wink:
 

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