Expenses scandal continues

Mr Angus phoned this morning to say that he had received an unwarranted and unnecessary letter from Sir Thomas Legg asking for more information about his expenses.

I have to ask Rhona to hit Kenny a few times to stop him laughing as I can hardly hear Mr Angus, who is phoning from the Union Jack club.

Mr Angus has been asked to explain a few of his claims:

• Exceeding the annual Toblerone limit of four bars
• Mini bar £145.76 at the Hilton, Soho
• Fourteen receipts in the name of Mr & Mrs Smith at the Union Jack Club
  
• One set pink-furry handcuffs (essential for when Mr Angus went to the US to train the Las Vegas PD!)
• Gold-plated fireplace for the flat in London
• 4 gallons red diesel
• 1 pair wellies and a boiler suit from Lewis Crofters
• Miscellaneous medical products from Dirty Mac's peep-show and adult equipment emporium
• 1 dance studio (complete) delivered to Tangasdale, Barra but apparently installed in the flat in London
• 1 pair of sheep shears from Co-Chomunn Iochair
• "Hot, wet and bouncy" DVD (volumes 1-327)
• 14 pairs silk boxers (medium)
• 14 gallon tub of whipping cream
• 4 ceiling mirrors - London
• Air filter for a Massey Ferguson
• Twenty bunches of flowers delivered to Tangasdale
• Twenty "I am very, very sorry" cards sent with above
• Two bottles baby oil - jumbo size

Mr Angus is very distraught, not least as Mrs Jane has been going through his travel claims and wants to know why he keeps missing the plane to Barra and has to stay over in Glasgow.

Mr Angus tells me to phone Mrs Jane when I get home and placate her with confirmation that these were all urgent SNP meetings that he was attending.

Apparently she mustn't rock the boat, as confidentially Mr Angus is being lined up to become the SNP
Scottish Government cultural attaché in the United States after the election results are announced, with special portfolio for young women.  How can he manage that and be an MP, I wonder?

I promise to phone Mrs Jane tonight, after I have got myself into my flannelette Fimbles pyjamas and have a cup of decaf anti-oxidant tannin-free camomile and rhubarb infusion.

I cannot tell anyone else about Mr Angus' good news, but I wonder how he will break it to Kenny and Rh
ona that they are moving to Washington AC?  I slide out the door without anyone noticing and slip into the warm and welcoming Alex, my lovely car, for the two hour journey home to Vatisker and the pressing need to tell lies to Mrs Jane.

Ally Bassett MacRahy

After I voted - as instructed - for that mass-murder to be released on the grounds that (a) he was innocent, and (b) it would embarrass Labour, he has the temerity to question Scottish Justice and by implication Mr Alex and Mr Kenny, and The Project.

Worst of all, he has not published his allegations in Gaelic in accordance with the Gaelic Language Plans (Release of murderers to other Jurisdictions) Act 2009.

There are many people in the Western Isles and beyond who want, nay deserve, the right to ignore this website in a language of their own choosing.

I have written to Mr Kenny demanding that Mr MacRahy's parole is revoked and that he is brought back from Liverpool to Barlinnie, so that we can them release him again on compassionate grounds, after giving him a good talking to, to show just how munificent and wonderful the SNP really are.

Kenny is still unwell since the announcement about the rocket range, and the odour of guga and Tennants in the office is starting to subside. At least upstairs, as the gasses seem to be heavier than air.

Mr Angus is missing, having missed his connections in London (twice) and he is not answering messages left at the Union Jack Club; even when Rhona pretends that he has won a years supply of Toblerones.

Rocket range saved!

Doom and gloom in the Stornoway office, which makes me glad to be back in civilisation in Edinburgh and away from the tedious expectations of representation from constituents.

Mr Angus phoned first thing this morning from the new SNP Embassy building he has just organised in the Spearmint Rhino building in Washington to tell me that there was bad news.

It looks like Labour have done the dirty on us and are planning to keep the Range open.

Mr Angus is almost in tears and he can hardly managed to order another Toblerone and raid the minibar on expenses, whilst giving a $10 note to one of the staff, who he says can hardly afford enough to buy clothes to wear.

I am furious and I will be urgently trying to speak to Mr Alex and Mr John later this week to find if there is any way that this deception by Labour can be reversed, as there are two jobs in the Western Isles that are more important than any others.

I program my phone to block all calls from Uist, only to remember I did this a month ago.

My very personal assistant brings me a cup of rosemary and nettle tea and another boxes of silk hankies, and gently dabs my eyes. "Is there anything I can do for you? Anything?", he asks in his softest most comforting voice. I look straight into his deep limpid eyes, and a smile crosses my face: "Yes, see if Alex Orr is free tonight."

Rocket range

I have just discovered that QinetiQ have been advertising for someone to run the range from England. This is the proof that we have been waiting for that the range is to close!

Mr Angus is ecstatic. He phoned me from Las Vegas where he was meeting with some young business women to discuss the possibility of them building a casino in Balivanich, although they seem to be more interested in providing the ancillary services. Mr Angus is flying back to Washington - for the traditional SNP fund-raising Scottish ceilidh and ribs bbq, washed down with bottles of lo-cal diet decaf McCoors no-alcohol lite - before they notice his absence.

He has instructed a press release to be issued on his behalf and has told me to put the champagne on ice for his return in October, as the closure is going to guarantee his re-election forever.

After careful thought I have issued the following balanced statement, which I think captures the sombre mood of the people of Uist:

Not since the battle of Culloden has the death of so many islanders been on the hands of an English Government.

A veritable Passchendaele of devastation is being planned by Labour in Uist with the planned closure of the rocket range and the mass drowning of the workers to avoid relocation costs or redundancy payments.

In my hand I hold the evidence that it is planned to level the site and bulldoze St Kilda into the sea, in breach of all the UN resolutions.

Despite literally months of work by Mr John over the past few weeks, which included sending someone to meetings, and speaking to me twice, the SNP Government has been ignored by Labour who have singularly failed to make the telephone calls to tell Mr John or Mr Angus that the SNP are right and that the range is saved.

Mr Angus has worked tirelessly, ignoring the interference of the Taskforce (myself excepted) and despite having his phone being on constantly, he has not been phoned by the Minister, the Secretary of State, anyone at the Range or by the Taskforce (well not more than 10 times, but they aren't helping his re-election campaign much).

With deep disappointment, I look forward to blaming Labour for Uist sinking slowly into the sea.

Kenny walks into the office at this moment, cracking open a bottle of Old Rapier 2 month old whisky ("Have a dram before you are fired") and finishing a 1 litre bottle of Deady Lightning cider. "Success", he cried - dodging the paper punch that Rhona passed to him at high speed as he tripped over the waste basket and his face connected with Rhona's knee jerk - "Our [expletive deleted] jobs are safe for another [expletive deleted] election or two!" Rubbing the blood from his nose with a copy of the Gazette, he passed round the now nearly empty bottle and a celebratory bag of Cross Stores celebrated oven-roasted hamster crisps, with paprika.

As Kenny slowly lapsed into a coma a gentle smile played across our faces as we realised the truth of his slurred words.

College graduation

I have been invited to the graduation ceremony at the University of the Highland and Islands at Lews Castle College. I am delighted to attend to show the students just what a real degree like the ones I have can help them achieve, if they are ever able to attend a real university.

I drive to the College, taking the speed humps at not more that 5mph, and I lead the procession of cars - all tooting their horns in celebration - into the car park, where I park carefully at the third attempt.

Carrying my degree certificates inconspicuously in their golden frames above my head, I sit in the audience to watch the first degrees being issued. Actually, due to necessary budget re-prioritisations caused by Labour incompetence and delivered in a wonderful fashion by Mr John in all his budgets, the core budget for the proposed UHI has been increased in a negative manner by about 5% and the award of full University status has been advanced through a process of re-evaluation of the process involving an extension of the timeframe for award from three years to infinity and beyond.

It is important to remind the students that their degrees are not as good or as valuable as mine, as this will only serve to encourage them to try harder.

After the ceremony, I am surrounded by a group of male hairdressing students who are all desperate to share grooming tips with me, and invite me to a private party later. I explain repeatedly about my degrees, but all they are interested in is giggling and asking about my hair gel.

Mr Angus has better luck, arranging to show some female students his awards later, and he has arranged private tuition with two or three of them for later that evening.

No-one seems that interested in talking about my PhD, as they all want to have a good time, so I leave at the earliest opportunity and head off to Tesco for a bottle of red wine and a meal for one. After dinner, I climb into my In the Night Garden pyjamas, re-affix my degree certificates to wall, ensure the 200w spotlights focus on them, open the bottle of red wine, and try to connect with Mr Orr on the webcam.

Press release: Celtic Festival "A Success"

Embargoed until 9pm 17 July.

The 2009 Hebridean Celtic Festival has been described as another outstanding success by Dr Alasdair Allan.

“This is the third Festival delivered under an SNP Government – something that Labour refused to do in office – and I it is the best yet.

“The lesson to be learned from this event is that an independent Scotland could show the world that we can nurture, produce and export world-beating artistes such as Africa Umbongo, the Vancouver Barbershop Quartet, Nova Scotia’s Flying Maraccas Sisters and the lilting Cajun sounds of Swedish thrash-metal combo ÜberDěathFuЖ, who sang in Swedish Gaelic.

“I spent the week in the Big Top (Kenny, check this is right) shaking my funky thang to the beats and getting down with the kids (Kenny!).

“It was heartening to see the youth of Lewis coming together - sharing their herbal cigarettes, anti-malarial tablets and bottles of Old McGregors 3-year-old Loch Portain Sump Oil “One dram will have you sailing” at the back of the tent behind the healthy-eating burger stalls, and just out of sight of the bouncers and the Police.

“The continued success of the festival was in no small measure to the good word I put in to Mr Alex about how good it was, and to the involvement of Mr Angus in providing musical support to the artistes.

“Mr Angus was able to explain to an audience of young female performers how he wrote his first symphony aged 3 before retiring from performing aged 10, having filled Carnegie Hall for a record 419 nights in a row.

“Mr Angus was utterly dedicated to the cause, working late into the night and all the way into the early morning; offering to show all the young females his fingering technique, and he was last seen trying to arrange private lessons in a local hotel room.

“The organisers and attendees should remember that the continuing success of the Festival is entirely dependant upon voting correctly at coming elections, and we have their names and details on file.

Visiting Constituents

Kenny can barely contain his excitement, spluttering through a mackerel jalfresi that I’ve been invited to meet my most remote constituent:

“Dear Dr Allan” it quite precisely began,

I am your most remote constituent and I would be grateful if you would come and see me. I have enclosed a ticket and a timetable to make it even easier for you.

I am currently working in a herring research lab in South Georgia, and if you catch the plane to Buenos Aires from Balivanich International, you will arrive just in time for us to have a meeting just before I finish my six-month shift.

Unfortunately, I cannot afford a return ticket, but you can wait here until the next plane returns with me. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Donald J MacSween (no relation)

Sadly the invitation clashes with my visit to St Kilda, and I have been reading up on the islands in my I-Spy Book of Uninhabitable Places. The islands are named after the town in Australia where the first settlers set sail in wooden Coracles in the 1300’s. When they landed on the Scottish islands they knew that they had found paradise, only with limited food supplies, horrendous weather and no human contact.

One of their number blessed the islands, and at that moment the SNP symbol appeared in the sky pointing them towards safety and Salmond Bay, where they landed and were attacked by giant rats. Within literally decades the settlers had killed and eaten the rats and driven out all the snakes, except for the deadly Qinetiq Asp.

There are five islands: Hoist, Seachd: The Inaccessible Pinnacle, The Old Man of Lochnagar, Tristan de Cunha and Fraggle Rock. It is on the latter that we will stay, living in the wild, with only our wits and our basic supplies to keep us alive. Like the former residents (who were murdered by Labour for voting SNP in the 1945 elections) we will have to scale the dangerous and perilous cliffs of Mordor to get our every provision in a precarious battle for survival.

At the base of the precipice lies our encampment, blown by the wind from three directions, and sheltered from the North. The high winds often catch unwary sheep and blow them down the North face reaching up to 100 miles per hour before they crash into buildings, people and even the sea. The sheep seem to enjoy the experience – one of Kenny’s favourite phrases – and can be seen making their way to the most exposed ridge in some kind of ovine extreme sport.

Huddled around open fires to keep warm, when we are not in the Holiday Inn, Village Bay, the smell of the cooking from the Military Base and the bar in the Puff Inn will mean that we will undoubtedly climb into the Land Rover for the trip to the top.

I will be travelling with the National Trust for Scotland who are there to try to drive out the remaining Qinetiq’s asp, representing as they do, the *British* Army and our job is to sympathetically beat these snakes to death and cast them into the sea. Obviously this might have an impact on some of my voters, so I am going in disguise myself in a low-profile mission about which I will make sure that there is no publicity.

Prior to leaving, Kenny has booked me into the British Legion, Balivanich, or as I prefer to call it, the Dark Island Hotel.

Kenny has thoughtfully provided some basic supplies from The Star of Skigersta Indo-Chino take-away including Rogan Josh Greylag Goose, Sweet’n’sour Guga, Hedgehog Tandoori and a portion of Red-throated Diver Chow Mein.

With any luck, by the time I return the hated *British* Army will be expelled from the islands forever, with no effect on my majority.

Uist job losses

I have lodged the following motion in Parliament to make sure that responsibility for the closure of the rocket range in Uist is clearly identified.

Today's news that the Labour Westminster Government have decided to cause the collapse of the economy of Uist by closing the Rangehead facility in West Garnish and throwing 215 employees into the sea over the next 4 years is a body blow for a community that is barely recovering from having a Labour MP and MSP until they were rescued from the depth of despair by Mr Angus and I.

Clearly the First Minister and Enterprise Minister and the Finance Minister and the Housing Minister and everyone else are too busy rescuing the Scottish economy from the ravages of the global campaign to destroy our wonderful successes in keeping jobs in Scotland and blaming someone else for our mistakes.

I hope that the Parliament will unite to demand that the Labour Westminster Government are decapitated and their heads nailed to top of the fence around Camp West, Benbecula, to show the public just what voting Labour can bring.

Together, the Parliament must demand that the Government insist that Westminster force Gordon Brown and his Labour acolytes to crawl on their knees from London to Uist and apologise in person to each and every inhabitant of the islands and bring an emergency rescue package [details of which I have no idea about] in used Scottish £10 notes to ensure that Mr Alex and the rest of the Government do not have to do anything constructive.

In the meantime, the rockets should be moved to be aimed at England until such time as someone finds some money to get me out of trouble.

Signatures: A Allan, A Alan, Alastair MacAllan, Alan MacAlastair, MacAllan 12-year-old, Numpty McToady, MacAlastair MacAllan, Brainless Moron, Alex Orrifice.

A phone call from Uist from Clr Manford tells me I am on the subject of adoration and approval in the islands when he tells me that the best place for me is as far away from Uist as possible, as many constituents want to explain why they don't want to see me there for a very long time.

Another successful day, and so to bed to watch Newsnight in bed in my brand new retro Rhubarb and Custard romper suit.

Sunday sailings

The Lords Day Observance Society have not been very helpful in trying to force me and Mr Angus to restate our views on the vexed issue of Sunday sailings of the CalMac ferry which I am told runs over the sea between Stornoway and Ullapool.

Kenny has told Mr Angus and I that under no circumstances must we offend the Free Church, as that would mean that Mr Maroot would be likely to remove his essential financial support for the local branch, and without that £500 per year we would be in serious trouble!

After much discussion with Donnie Gazette we have come up with a coherent policy that he has written for us that makes sure that the public know exactly where we stand in this vital issue. I have issued this press statement far and wide, but especially to the late John MacLeod who has demeaned his position as an independent journalist by not taking the view that Mr Angus and I tell him to take. I have instructed Kenny to write to Mr Alex suggesting that the Daily Mail be purged for the list of approved newspapers in an Independent Scotland and the John MacLeod be immediately placed on the list of banned writers that an independent commission, which has yet to be appointed, add to the first version of the persona non grata.

My statement is a masterpiece of clarity that should make it entirely clear where I stand.

I am someone who strongly supports the rights of the individual.

I would personally never use a Sunday ferry, as I believe that Sunday is a very special day on which we should not do any work, other than when I am engaged on SNP business on the mainland or campaigning for the SNP or otherwise instructed to do something by Mr Alex. Also my plane fares are paid by the Parliament and I would be foolish to spend seven hours [Kenny is this right?] on the boat when I can fly to Edinburgh in one hour on expenses.

It is not right that Sunday ferries are imposed on any section of the community who may, or may not, be willing, or not accepting, of a decision or otherwise after due consultation and public involvement of the community in reaching a view that should be accepted by the company.

Further, without public representation on the matter, the position is not clear and I urge California MacBrian to review the failure to provide the consultation in Gaelic.

This matter is not a political decision and my view is therefore not relevant to the decision that is being made by Balamory MacBrain, as instructed by Mr Stewart.

I have written to Mr Stewart making it clear that if he had any say in the matter then I hope he will listen to my constituents views that the decision to implement Sunday sailings has been a political decision taken by the Labour Party in the Comhairle with the sole purpose of trying to undermine my credibility as a leader of the community opinion.

Other than that, I will make no comment on a decision has nothing to do me.

Phew! That has got me off the hook, and the local party will be delighted with my clear and logical stance.

Kenny has issued the press release and unplugged his phone, directing all calls to me. The first of which comes from a sobbing John MacLeod muttering Gaelic obscenities and curses in equal order at my lack of backbone and decisiveness. How dare he!

I had asked Mr Alex to expel John MacLeod with immediate effect, but I needn't have bothered as he later returned his membership card attached to four white feathers. Still attached to a whole, fresh chicken.

Kenny broke the joyous news, ate the chicken, feathers and all, and he celebrated another success by opening a tin of lobster and goose broth which he washed down with pint glass of low alcohol Vin de Swainbost Chenin Rouge (24% proof) and 6 Regal.

Home to bed and my collection of the speeches of Mr Alex and the Transformers box set.

Expenses. Grrrrr

The fascist Tory rag, the Daily Mail, has some utterly untrue and scurrilous allegations about me and my expenses that are so deeply disturbing that I break into tears at the sight of them.

Graeme, my Very Personal Assistant, mopped my tears with some of the special cherry and lilac balm tissues that were sent to me by the committee of the Scottish Transvestites for RET and Gaelic Cheques (Lewis Branch) following my brilliant speech at their AGM, which was attended by the entire branch membership of one, and constituted my major public engagement for the year.

Mr Angus phoned to commiserate, and deny any responsibility in passing the original papers to the Daily Mail or to next week's Scotland on Sunday, and offered to send some Toblerones and a bottle of white wine he had been gifted by the fees office.

I have written to all members to set out my innocence in this matter, and I left the office in a deep dark mood, leaving Kenny chewing on some honey roast Otter jerky and fielding the phone calls from irate branch members who had been stupid enough to believe what they read.

I have sent the members the following email which they will believe:

You may have read in the Daily Mail that I have claimed outrageous expenses for many costs that I should have paid personally, and if you read the Daily Mail you should contact the office to return your membership and apply for rethink training immediately.

These stories are lies and have no truth in them whatsoever, as they didn't listen to what I said in mitigation when they caught me out showed me what I have claimed for.

- Contrary to the lies put out to hide the fact that Gordon Brown was personally responsible for the murder of millions of children in Iran or Iraq or Iceland, I did not claim for weapons of mass destruction being located in Scotland.

- I did not claim for the wreath or the poppies or the poppy in my lapel that I borrowed from Brian MacPherson when I attended the Remembrance Sunday event in Benbecula.

- Nor did I claim for the shoe leather, chaffing to my trousers, or the vast cost of hair gel required to keep my quiff stable in the high winds.

- The claim for the wreath was entirely within the permissible claims allowed by the Parliament and I have no intention of returning the money, so there.

- I did not claim for my travel to the event, beyond the usual travel expenses involving a 100% reimbursement of all costs incurred, including hotels.

- I will not return the cost of the wreaths as I did nothing wrong, except in the unlikely event that Mr Alex will tell me to do so. So there.

- I did not claim for the 'Go faster stripes' on the side of my Nissan Micra sportscar, which have increased the top speed from 29 mph to 31 mph, (with a tail wind) but not that I would go that fast anyway.

- I explained to the Daily Mail that I had not been involved in any 'Toblerone action' in any hotels in London, but they didn't report this.

- I am making a donation equivalent to the cost of the wreath (£17.40) to show my understanding of the complexity of the situation as instructed by Mr Alex in a brief bollocking down the telephone

- I have not made any dodgy claims as I earn so much money that you just wouldn't believe and that you are just not as clever as me to earn and I don't need the money (unlike others who have claimed for hotels, wine and chocolates!)

- If anyone asks you about this, I am saintly, innocent and it is all scurrilous gossip by newspapers with nothing better to do than print facts about the SNP when they should be printing lies about Labour

- I am more than happy to talk to anyone who has any 'issues' with this, as long as they accept that I am in the right.

If you need any more information, please contact Kenny who will stall you for a few days until your anger dies down.

Lots of love and death to Labour

Alasdair

Expenses - put to rest

Mr Angus and I were delighted when Donnie Gazette sent through the objective and unbiased article that he was writing for this week's Gazette, and we thanked Cathie his wife for bringing it to the Branch meeting that she Chairs.

After a thorough, in-depth and detailed investigation by the fearless Gazette, they are going to publish the truth about Mr Angus' expenses claims. I have carefully read the article and consider myself entirely satisfied with the conclusions.

MP lead the campaign against excessive expenses.

In a turbulent week for the House of Commons, Angus MacNeil spoke exclusively to the Gazette about the outrageous claims about his expenses being made by a Skye based newspaper (The West Highland Free Telegraph).

"I have led the battle to change the system by setting down 317 early day motions over the past two weeks and supporting over 700 abstentions by the SNP from voting over the past five years on any substantive proposals. This discredited Labour Government has cut pensions from pensioners in order to pay MPs expenses for badger stuffing, third homes allowances for cojoined-twin MPs, dungeon polishing and private inter-planetary spaceships for Tony Blair whilst we in the SNP have been consistently exploiting opposing the system."

Addressing the utterly unfounded allegations he was facing, Mr MacNeil explained in a completely open, honest, believable and trustworthy fashion that the croft he bought in central London came with only a small area of ground on which he kept only a small flock of sheep, and didn't receive much subsidy. The needs of the sheep explained a lot of his absence from the Commons, which is why he wanted to move to remote voting in the Commons.

The hotel expenses arose as a result of an accident involving a bottle of whisky and an early flight the next day, and he had drunk only a mouthful of each of the white wine, vodka, Tia Maria, whisky, Pepsi, another white wine, another vodka and Pepsi, a large Malibu and Coke and some other things he found in the fridge only because he thought it was compulsory to empty the minibar in the Union Jack Club.

He wanted to emphasise that no women were present during this visit, despite the errors in the hotel register. And that on other visits he had not claimed for either of them on expenses.

The Toblerone was a present to Alex Salmond who was feeling peckish between his £400 per month food allowances, even though he was not in London at the time.

Mr MacNeil dismissed any talk about who was bunked up with him in the bunk beds, joking "Lembit had the Cheeky Girls, so all's fair....".

Tonight bonfires were being lit throughout the constituency celebrating Mr MacNeil's asceticism, moderate habits and humility. Seven of the bonfires were outside properties he owns and were the scenes of adulation, weeping, gnashing of teeth and drunken attempts to get teenage girls back into hotel rooms. Jackets were compulsory and could not be removed.

An independent opinion poll conducted at 31 Bayhead gave Mr MacNeil of 20% of the popular vote, well ahead of Labour on 99% below, and the bookies have now eased the odds on his re-election to 100-1 on. Allegedly.

The Gazette firmly believes that Mr MacNeil is overdue for sainthood and has written to the Pope in these terms [this bit for the Uist edition only].

It's good to see journalistic standards maintained when the press is under so much pressure to be party political.

Expenses claims

Mr Angus is worked up about the publication of his expenses claims and has asked Kenny and I to check them carefully for anything that might be politically damaging.

I was outraged that the Telegraph sought to embarrass Mr Alex by publishing details of his wholly justified claims. Mr Alex is the most value for money politician that we have ever had in this country, as I tell him every time I have the great fortune to see him. I try to put a note reminding him of his greatness on his desk every day I go to the Parliament, but for some unknown reason Miss Nicola has taken to clearing his desk of my note, the apple and the card with my name and contact details before Mr Alex comes into the building to sweep the floor with the other parties.

Kenny has brought the summary list of expenses that might need review and explanation. I agree to take the first six pages, and he takes the next six to try to identify those that might be really difficult.

Kenny sits in the corner chewing on a slice of couscous and jojoba dumpling from the new Port of Ness Delicatessen and sucking hard on his teeth at everything that might cause problems. The noise soon becomes unbearable, especially when Kenny crunches the gluten-free dandelion and herring rock cakes.

We have identified the following key items that Mr Angus needs to sort out:

• Eradication of moles on the croft (6 claims) £978
• Bouncy castle, with the logo "Bouncing for Scotland" £2,881
• Jockey shorts by Agent Provocateur (1 leather, 1 PVC) £222
• Cleaner (Ms Juanita Geestring) £150 per week while Parliament is sitting
• Six towels from Harrods (Barra branch) £2,163
• The entire Teine collection on CD, vinyl and cassette (signed copies) £24
  
• Two nights in Hotel D'Humping, Paris, in the name of Mr & Mrs Smith €954
• A bill from Annie's Bar, House of Commons, for 6 beers, two large malt whiskies, three tequila sunrises, three Gin & Tonics, two Malibu & Cokes and one Midori & Orange (in the name of Mr MacNeil & secretaries) £7.50
• One inflatable pink sheep
• One Ikea triple bed (last one broke) £644 + delivery
• One tarasgeir £22
  
• One tractor - Massey Ferguson with dropped axles, spoiler and racing stripes in green £6,445
• Valentine day flowers sent to six different addresses (details redacted) - three claims £100
• One Crunchy 45p
  
• Harrods gourmet hamper (birthday present for Kenny) comprising glazed nightingale breasts; six-pack of roast suckling hamster; guga kebabs; compote of venison and marinaded otter; assorted camel cheeses; sweet and sour goose scratchings; caviar pot noodle; 200 embassy regal; terrine of seagull and mole; and a mussel sushi cheesecake £178
• Ann Summers, details illegible £331
• Haircut at Hair4Vanity, Chelsea £195
• Suit by Gervais Gaytrouser of Saville Row £766
• Delivery of one load of peat from Castlebay to London £1155 plus ferry fares
• New office in Tangasdale for Parliamentary assistant (J MacNeil) £250,000
• Crumpets, assorted, £200 per week

But who is going to tell Mrs Jane? Kenny has temporarily developed a speech disorder, and I have to go to Tesco immediately to avoid Voldemort and his family, so it looks like Rhona will have to make the call.

I have phoned Donnie Gazette and get him to write a suitable press release in case the Free Press try to put some kind of bad spin on this affair. He is suggesting "MP does his bit to revitalise the economy after Labour destroy it, killing millions of pensioners."

Swine flu

Never in the annals of human history has a Scottish Government dealt with a major global calamity, caused by Labour, in such an efficient and constructive manner.

The news that Miss Nicola is to send advice to all Scottish homes in both *nglish and Gaelic is clearly the best way to deal with the death and destruction brought upon the planet by successive Labour Governments.

I have seen the *nglish version of the leaflet, which reads as follows:

• Swine flu is nasty and can cause coughs, fevers and death
• Do not cough over anyone
• If coughed upon, gently punch the offender and then bathe the infected areas in one part DDT, one part Lemsip and seven parts neat bleach
• Rub the skin gently with steel wool until fresh blood can be seen
  
• Stay indoors and whitewash your windows from the inside
• Tune in to Radio Alex (Free by 92 FM) and await further instructions
• Do not eat your immediate family unless you have run out of frozen food
• We're all doomed
• Vote SNP

As an immediate step, I have locked Kenny in his car for his own good and impounded his supplies of food, which have been sent for incineration. These include pigs trotters in salmon jelly, a box of suckling pig samosas, pork itchings, barbecued sow and eagle sandwiches on rye bread with marie rose sauce (special offer in Ness Stores as the sell by date was last March), and two bottles of lemon, bean and bacon smoothies from the SWRI (Skigersta Women's Roofing and Insulation Co.).

My very personal assistant Graeme has been clad in a mask and a boiler suit. Much as it makes him look very attractive and shows off his best features, I ask him to get changed into some protective clothing to take the contents of the fridge to the dump in an unmarked van, to show my commitment to civil protection.

With Kenny firmly superglued in the car, the office is running smoothly again, and I resolve to keep him there until the scare is over; which is probably after the election in 2011.

The use of Gaelic

I was utterly appalled at the refusal of the Royal Bank of Scotland to accept cheques written in Gaelic, and I have written in very strong terms to Mr Alex, in Gaelic with a translation in Braid Scots and *nglish, complaining about the situation.

One of my constituents and party member and esteemed Gaelic students, a Mr George Michael Drummond was in a shop in Stornoway trying to buy a new rakish hat, a saving set, Harraidh Potter agus an Orchloch, some rubber accessories and a new bath plug when his cheque was refused by the Labour philistine in the Bank.

I have seen the cheque which reads:
Paidh: Nazir Brathair, Tri fichead quid agus 20p.

How could any Bank that tries to call itself Scottish refuse such a clear instruction?

The pathetic excuse from the Gordon Brown instructed press officer was that all staff have to be able to read the cheque to know how much it is for and that the correct payee is being credited.

Have you ever heard anything as stupid as that. Gaelic is not here to be understood by everyone, but to provide a way for the intellectually superior to demonstrate their unique abilities to communicate in more than one language.

Would the Bank refuse a cheque written in French, or Welsh or Urdu? It is their responsibility to ensure that ALL their staff are properly trained in Gaelic so that customers can write cheques without fear of staff being too stupid to understand another language.

I am so angry that I have had to come home to change my trousers.

Kenny has suggested that perhaps I should be pressing Mr Alex to ensure that Gaelic has equal status in Scotland, but I firmly demolish his argument by pointing out that Mr Alex has too many other things to be worrying about at the moment, such as the attempt by Gordon Brown to reduce the Scottish Budget from £300,000,000 to £750 meaning the likely self-immolation in despair of civil servants such as Kenny. He duly falls silent, marvelling at my rhetoric.

Press release about Arnish reopening

We should all be proud of the immense amount of work undertake by Mr Alex, Mr Angus and I in delivering over 600 new jobs to the new yard in Arnish.

Mr Angus and I fought long and hard to stop the previous factory succeeding as it would have resulted in the islands being entirely covered with those horrible Labour-inspired wind turbines which would have brought death, plague and disaster to the islands on a scale not seen since the Vikings beached their longboats in Achmore and proceeded to place fishfarms in every loch, importing migrant workers from the East (i.e. Point) to put good Lewis people out of jobs.

The resulting unemployment, mortgage arrears, despondency, marital strife and emigration were a small price to pay for the protection of the local way of life (i.e. my election) and for the protection of the wildlife of the islands.

As a consequence, Mr Angus and I are wholly responsible for the highly ongoing successful breeding programme of the black-backed gull and for the preservation of the endangered – and highly secretive – flying stoat of Melbost Borve. This rare nocturnal creature is the only marsupial on the islands, if you exclude Kenny’s cousin, Kirsty Morag Jojoba MacLeod, who lives in a converted bothan in Upper Dibidale as a result of an unfortunate encounter with a Koala, two wallabies and later a duck-billed platypus during a visit to her Uncle Angie Alex “Crocodile” MacLeod in Edinburgh zoo.

Mr Angus and I were pleased to be able to break the news of Bo-Fib re-opening the yard ahead of the ridiculous embargo placed on it by HIE, as we had been so involved in the process of receiving calls from HIE to tell us what was happening. It is ludicrous that HIE seem so upset by our press statements, as Mr Angus has already designed the next technological leap for the towers that Bo-Fat have promised to built at Arnish out of spare tractor parts and creels, guaranteeing at least a generation’s employment for the entire island. And I have that on good authority from the MD of Butt-Fit when I told him about Mr Angus’ designs.

People: rejoice at Mr Alex, Mr Angus and I and our ability to deliver all these jobs, and remember that being a branch outlet for a big yard may mean that the employment is sporadic, but at least you are not selling your soul to the Labour Party and the Council by having constant employment building wind towers.

Promotion

The other Mr Angus, who sits in the other Parliament - oh, why does this all have to be so confusing - has phoned to tell me that I am to be promoted to trainee apprentice junior Minister for inter-galactic activities, space Gaelic and inter-planetary activities. This will entitle me to sit outside the meetings of important people and possibly be allowed to carry their bags to and from the important meetings.

Apparently, the other Mr Angus is going to announce that RAF Lossiemouth, which is in his Constituency is to be designated the new worldwide space launch pad for virgins and that the first flights will take place next year, unless the evil Mr Brown once again lets loose the hordes of pestilence infected Labour MPs to plunder the Scottish Government safes and steal all our money. In which case the scheme will be funded by Laird Trump of Tong building a universe-class golf course on the moon, for which planning permission has already been granted, but only after he applies, not withstanding the objections of SNH, the RSPB and China. He has already promised that (Harris Golf Club) Open will be staged there in 2010, or after he finishes building the 14,000 houses, executive villas, and tax-avoiding penthouses; subject only to the Bank of Scotland, Stornoway, advancing an interest-free 250% mortgage on the deemed notional value of the finished development before he starts.

Anyway, the other Mr Angus tells me that as I am the most obvious person to meet the criteria for launching virgins, I am to be ready for the full announcement next week and I must be ready to rename all the seas on the moon, all the atmospheric conditions and all the asteroids in Gaelic, and I am to do nothing but vote as instructed until the full announcement is made.

I am so proud to be on the very first flight of the very first spacecraft to funded using the Scottish Futures Trust, and no-one should pay any attention to the fact that the dog and the chimpanzee both withdrew from the project due to concerns about safety.

I cannot tell anyone what is happening, but I will make sure that my legacy lives on by defining authoritatively all 37,369 known asteroids in Gaelic! This will keep me quiet and busy for some time, but such is the price of achievement! I put on my Thunderbirds slippers to celebrate.

Steps up the political ladder: 1 (soon, soon!)
Asteroids named an diugh: 2
Constituents seen: None (I'm too busy)

No fairies in this house!

I have just finished putting up the Christmas tree, and just in time as I was given the present from Mr Alex as I tried to leave Edinburgh with explicit instructions that it was to go on the tree immediately.

Inside the present is a Santa, with the face of Mr Alex, along with a Christmas card that I have to send back to Mr Alex. The Santa is wonderful, with a swivelling head, eyes that seem to look at you constantly, but it could do with much more padding around the waist if it is to look realistic.

I place the Santa on the top of the tree, as there are no fairies in this house, and I would swear that the eyes follow me about. I have opened the card and there is a tab to show exactly where I am to sign. The wonderful Christmas festive message is clear....

Merry Christmas
I hereby authorise you to read my emails, listen to my telephone calls,
open my post, read my private files, bug my home, office and car
And a Happy New Year
and take such other steps as are necessary to ensure that I
do exactly as I am told
Ane Folk, Ane Scotia, Ane Alex

Sign here

As I sign the card and put a stamp on it, the Santa seems to let out a laugh, but nothing for me to worry about! I tramp along the road to see Gordon Diesel to post the letter and buy a variety pack of Kellogg's single serving breakfast cereals. For me, there is nothing more exciting than putting my hand in the cupboard in the morning and not knowing if I will have Coco Pops or Ricicles for breakfast. They are in stock; which is just as well, or Mr Angus and I would have to speak to the Minister and dmeand that somone else arrange a Summit to discuss the matter!

And so to bed, with a small glass of ribena and a good book - the Horrid Henry Omnibus. Note to self, must complain about this not being available in Gaelic.

Constituents spoken to: 1 (Gordon Diesel, but he doesn't really count)
Christmas cards written: 7 (Mr Alex, Ms Nicola, Mr John, Mr Angus, Mr Jim, Mr Bruce and special Alex)
Expenses claims submitted: £7,645.34 for the last quarter

Postmen

I am away from work for almost six weeks, so I had to come to Lewis for at least some of the time.

When I get to the office, Kenny has his head down avoiding my gaze, which told me with my innate political sense, gained from years of doing exactly what Mr Alex told me to do, that something was wrong.

Rhona pulled me aside and told me that I had a full diary for the next few weeks, as it was important that the electorate was able to recognise me when I stand for reselection by the Branch. "Some of the members don't think you spend enough time doing enough for the Constituency, and want you to be seen to do things that help the voters", she said, handing me a list of appointments I have to keep.

I sat down beside Kenny, both of us facing the wall which allows us to pass notes and whisper without Rhona knowing.

"Don't listen to her", said Kenny, taking a bite from his salt mutton panini on rye, with mayo, and moving his slice of cormorant and potato tart slightly to the left as it was starting to permanently stain the desk, "The Branch are much less happy than she lets on, and she won't forget your failure over the Marybank factory. Fancy a fag?"

As we sat in the car he outlined today's appointments, uncreasing the list by lightly pressing it between a chinese takeaway tin and his collie, "Your first mission, should you choose to accept it," he said expectorating gently into the back seat to the Mission Impossible theme, "Is to bring joy and glad to the postmen of the island."

It was with great anticipation that I went to the sorting office - would I see Padraig Post there? Would Jess be in his van? Is Mrs Goggins really that helpful? I know they speak Gaelic as I have often seen them on BBC2 early in the morning as I am sitting waiting for my daily instructions from Mr Alex.

I am taken around by Padraig's assistant, a very helpful Mr MacArthur, who I know very well having met him for the first time today, who kept telling me that Padraig and Jess would be back any moment. Sadly Mrs Goggins was having a day off, but the postmen encouraged me to write her a note which they promised would have pride of place in her office, when she returned.

Padraig and Jess never did appear, as it turned out he was on the St Kilda run, and after six hours of walking around the mail room I drove home to watch another documentary about their busy lives, and dream of what could have been.

I put on my glow in the dark Scooby Doo pyjamas, checked for instructions from Mr Alex, and went to bed looking forward to another productive and exciting day tomorrow.

Constituents met: 14 postmen, but not Padraig
Press releases issued: 1
Blessings of Mr Alex bestowed upon the public: 1

Fuel consultation

With fuel prices rising rapidly, and the public unable to afford to drive or heat their houses I have finally relented and agreed to try to do something about it.

Mr Angus had previously suggested a fuel regulator, which I think was something to do with restricting the flow of profits from the public to the oil companies, but he was never able to explain to me how this would work and I couldn't understand the detailed economics that he explained to me.

I have today launched a consultation which I am going to send to every house in the Western Isles to try to understand the priorities of the public as regards fuel. Kenny facetiously suggested that I could talk to some members of the public, but I dismissed that idea as being plain silly and not as good as a press release.

As the consultation is being paid for by public money, it must be objective, fair, impartial and non-political. I have already cleared the answers with the Minister, as I don't want to get any results that might cause Mr Alex any problems.

Kenny, Rhona and I spent literally minutes on the questions, and I am working on a Gaelic translation which will be issued next year.

Q1. Given that the Labour Party are causing the massive rise in fuel prices, causing wholescale genocide of the poor, the elderly and drivers, not seen since the days of Stalin, do you think I should do something? yes/no

Q2. Any idea what I should do? (max 15 words, and no bad language)

Q3. The SNP propose to reduce the price of everything, but especially oil, without it costing anybody a single penny. Do you agree that Mr Alex is doing a fantastic job? yes/definitely/absolutely

Q4. Would you like this questionnaire in Gaelic? tha/yes

Q5. I promise to raise this matter in Parliament, in strident tones, but with limited expectation of success, as the Minister has already told me that there is no chance of anything happening. Do you support the SNP policy of widespread consultation with the public on matters that aren't going to be affected by the consultation, as a symbol of the commitment to symbolism that a new Scotland will have when it symbolically discusses matters outwith its control? yes/of course/probably

Q6. Do you recognise me? yes/no/who are you?

I have passed the questionnaire to my press officer, Donnie Gazette, who has already written a brilliant article for the local paper extolling the merits and significance of the results that we will get in the next few weeks, and outling the decisive action I am going to take by raising this with the Minister, taking account of the answer he has already told me I am going to get.

I head home, satisfied at having completed such a major political coup and having outwitted Labour yet again.

Gaelic words spoken: 139
Price of petrol: is it £1.75 a pint?
Constituents met: 1

Protecting jobs

The crisis in the salmon processing industry has caused Mr Angus and I to spring into action only ten days after the problem came to our notice. (Phoning around, Kenny found Mr Angus in a Thai restaurant interviewing a young lady for the post of assistant under-MP)

I met with the workers yesterday, which the Gazette reported under the headline "Fearful staff meet with MSP", and I didn't really mean to scare them that much with my detailed and careful advice on the matter.

I explained that I had written to the Minister, in Gaelic, to ensure that he was aware that I thought that closing the factory was a bad idea. I made it very clear to him that all the workers were born and bred in the islands and were fluent Gaelic speakers to a man or woman, and that if the factory closed they would be out of a job. I emphasised that it is important that no foreigners are involved in either the operation or management of the company, and that it was created by local Gaelic speakers.

My thirty second speech was met with the traditional throwing of knives and fish guts, most of which just missed me, as the workers showed their support for my position.

I then opened up for questions from the floor, and the first one was from a Labour activist who asked if I intended to lobby the Minister directly, and seek public sector support to ensure that the factory would continue. Speaking slowly, so he would understand, I explained that one only lobbied SNP Ministers when they had given you permission and intended to support you. Under the circumstances i.e. that the jobs were going to the Ministers constituency, it was not within my remit to lobby the Minister.

Calling halt to the extensive questioning at that point, I collected Kenny from the canteen where he was enjoying a plate salmon tartare, and a salmon caviar roll, which I reminded him was disrespectful to Mr Alex, and we exited the building before the bucket of salmon blood and guts could be pushed to the car in a celebratory drenching, to show their support for my position.

After dropping Kenny off at the office, I drove home, slightly faster than usual in case I was followed (25mph), and phoned Mr Angus to advise him to avoid the factory at all costs.

Letters written to Minister: 1
Phone calls from Minister telling me to 'butt out': 3
Smell of fish from my clothes: extensive and pervasive

Lighthouse California

Rhona cornered Kenny and I in the office, and made us sit in the corner whilst she explained some political realities to us.

Her husband, Billy "Bunter" MacDonald, works at the Lighthouse California factory and the owners are going to close it. What were Mr Angus and I going to do about this outrageous action?

Billy is apparently second in charge of the assistants clipboard for noting down messages received on the telephone and as such is very self-important, and mustn't be sacked.

Kenny spoke up, taking out his strip of kipper jerky and laying it aside for later consumption, and explained that he had already issued a press release on behalf of Mr Angus announcing that Mr Angus had rescued the factory and all the employees from penury and certain unemployment, and that Mr Angus would be meeting with management to explain to them just how to run the factory profitably.

Kenny had not been able to tell Rhona or me about this had he had not been able to reach Mr Angus to tell him what to say. Apparently Mr Angus was incommunicado in either a Cambodian paddy field, or a Thai massage parlour, Kenny wasn't sure which as Mr Angus hadn't been clear about his plans.

I promised Rhona that I would personally meet with the staff, if she could show me where the factory was, and explain that Mr Angus, ably assisted by I, would make sure no bad publicity came out of this whole sorry matter. I reminded her that the secure future of the factory had already been forecast by The Eagles, when they wrote "You can clock on, but you will never leave."

I will await detailed instructions from Mr Angus on what to do, but I seriously thinking about writing to someone about this.

Kipper jerky eaten: Nil
Threats from Rhona: 7
Thai knocking shops phoned by Kenny: 17

Car rally

I spent all day at the Stornoway car rally watching the racers drive at very high speed, making sharp turns and reversing into very tight places.

I was amazed at how fast they can go, and I must confess I got very dizzy at the excitement and sense of danger as they whizzed through the crowds oblivious to the risk to their own lives.

I went to renew my ticket, 20p for 1 hour was so very reasonable, and I asked the man standing beside the ticket machine just how long it was going to carry on for. "All day", he said, "This is Percival Square car park!"

Constituents spoken to: 1
People who recognised me: none
Highest speed reached in 'Dorothy', my trusty green Micra: 14 mph (I managed second gear!)

Outrageous comments

Voldemort has done it this time!

Kenny phoned to say that he was alleging that a politician on the island was gay, and that to protect my reputation he had arranged for the entire SNP branch (Murdo MacLeod, Donald Murdo MacLeod, Angus MacLeod, Leod MacLeod, Angus B MacNeil Murdo MacLean, Mary MacLeod, Mary Murdo MacLeod, Angusina MacLeod, Donaldina Angusina MacLeod, Murdina Donaldina MacLean and Timotheous MacLeod Jnr) to post comments denying that I was in any way gay!

I was so angry that I wept copiously into my silk Cinderella dressing gown.

I am not attracted to men in any way whatsoever. Nor am I attracted to women for that matter, except senile old women who like to hold me their bosom when I visit the retirement homes to explain in Gaelic why Mr Alex will ensure that the major socio-economic and demographic changes that he will personally ensure will happen will ensure that the children they can barely remember having will return to carry them on commodes of gold to the new palaces that the SNP will build for them on the shores of Loch Achmore, where the fleet of steamers bringing the exiles home will dock. Such a speech is usually appreciated with a rousing round of nose picking, loud appreciative farting and at least one resident passing out and losing their teeth.

Nor am I attracted in any way to mammals. Nor to marsupials. Nor to invertebrates. And certainly not to fish; fresh water or sea living.

Voldemort must now pay for making Kenny suspect me, and I have phoned HQ to get them to do anything and everything about it in a way that I can disown.

Thereafter, I will continue to lead a life of only slight sanctimonious piety as a veritable monk amongst the fallen, gazing onto the unwashed and unappreciative hordes as they vote me back in with ever increasing majorities, surrounded by a coterie of lightly oiled dusky young male party workers, specially flown in from Brazil to help me around the house by looking after my every whim.

Such lovely thoughts to take to bed. I just hope Alex and his 'girlfriend' are thinking of me too.

Pyjamas worn: Blue Dangermouse ones
Bottles of baby oil bought: 7
Constituents spoken to: None

Fisherman's AGM

Mr Angus told me that I had to go to Lochmaddy, which is in North Uist, for the Annual General Meeting of the Western Isles Fisherman's Association.

I had hoped that Captain Birdseye would be there, as I wanted to thank him for making some excellent fish-fingers which I often eat daily with ketchup and precisely 25 frozen peas, to ensure my five a day intake of vegetables. I send Mr Alex a monthly report on my diet, to show that I take the business of politics very seriously, and provide him with details and diagrams of my bowel motions, which record and chart weekly for size, density, colour and smell. Surprisingly, none of my colleagues seem to do this, which will certainly mark me out when the next reshuffle takes place and I will have a chance of becoming assistant apprentice junior under-secretary assistant with special responsibility for Gaelic books.

I was met at the door by the Chairman who asked who I was, and when I explained he reassuringly told me that I would fit in perfectly as I was an 'odd fish', which is most definitely a compliment coming from a fisherman.

I listened carefully to the detailed debates on prawns, nets, seaweed and how to catch kippers for a mere 4 hours, nudging Mr Angus occasionally to keep him awake. I took plenty of notes for both Mr Angus and I, but looking back at the notes I have absolutely no idea what they were talking about. I will ask Kenny to write a press release as he knows more about this than I do.

At the end of the meeting I had to speak so I told all the fishermen about Mr Alex's plan to personally ensure that all the fish were allowed to be caught only by local boats and that he was working literally 24 hours a day 7 days a week to ensure that the prawns were no smaller than 1 stone each. They were stunned by my revelations, and as I read the speech that was carefully written for me by Kenny, they were rapt and open-mouthed as I recited the landings for 1996 by species, port and weight and compared then to the landings for 2006 clearly showing that the Labour Party had been wholly responsible for the reduction in fish in the sea as clearly shown by the statistics for megrim landed at Northbay, namely; in 1996 2 megrim were landed by FV "Bottom Wind" CY99 weighing a total of 17lbs whilst in 2006 only 1 megrim was landed by the local boat "Seniorita Esperanza MacNeil" CY99 weighing a total of 15lbs. This clearly shows that Jack McConnell and Alasdair Morrison had deliberately destroyed the fishing leaving fishermen impoverished, children without food on the table and mothers destitute and having to sell their bodies and babies to passing tourists on the pier at Castlebay in order to fund a passage, steerage class, to Glasgow where they would have to work in domestic service for fifty years as part of the new Highland Clearances.

I was able to reassure them that landings this year included 17 boxes of fresh smoked mackerel straight to the Co-op, up from 16 the year before, indicating that the SNP would deliver on it's policy of 'fish for everyone, whether they like it or not.'

Then Mr Angus regaled the audience with stories of catching crabs. The first story was of his youth in Barra, when he built the first million-pound trawler ever seen on the west coast out of old fish boxes and bits of machinery lying around the croft, and how he used to dive without oxygen for hours at a time hand picking the crabs for shipping to the finest restaurants in the world. The second story had something to do with Amsterdam, a German woman, and liberal doses of ointment.

Shortly after, Mr Angus had to go away as he had something 'hooked', and left with a young lady he met in the bar who presumably was driving him to his next appointment.

I had to catch the ferry, and headed for Lewis. As I sat on the ferry I entertained all the fishermen with my stories, certainly they were laughing at everything I said. As we docked, one of the skippers said "I hear you like bottom fishing when you are in Edinburgh. Do you often get bites on your worm?", which just goes to show how little attention he paid to my stories.

As the last bus had already gone, I stood on the main road and thumbed a lift back to Stornoway, waving to all the fishermen as they drove past, whilst I stood in the drizzle waiting for a car to come along. I was back in Back within three hours, after another successful day.

Fishermen spoken to: 23
Lifts thumbed: 2
Speeches read without many mistakes: 1

Tesco

Kenny is just back from the new supermarket that has opened in Stornoway. Apparently they are called 'Tesco' and they have stores everywhere like Inverness, Wick and as far afield as Perth.

Kenny has long been a stalwart of the Cross Stores, who do his staple foods such as 40 Embassy, McCain Oven Ready Hedgehog rings, seagull drumstick skewers, Paralytic Piper whisky and red diesel.

Rhona had instructed him to go to the Tesco to buy supplies for the office and he hands over the 27-pack of extra-value extra-thin toilet roll, a jar of Tesco value Barra coffee - grown with the finest Arabica beans on the west facing slopes of the island - Tesco value sugar (reduced in price due to being slightly damp), a box of 240 tea-bags, a bottle of mint julep Domestos, and 72 'Blu-loo' tablets. Rhona hands over the £1.72 from petty cash, and I keep the receipt to claim against my expenses. The copy receipt is put onto Mr Angus' desk for him to claim also.

Conspiratorially, Kenny pulls me out to the car by my sleeve, where I sit in a fug of Embassy smoke and on a pile of dog-ends that are some two feet deep. Kenny always changes his car when the dog-ends reach to the roof.

He opens a second Tesco bag and he eyes open with wonder as he shows me his purchases. He drools slightly, but that is normal, so I pay attention to what he has bought, and even I am taken aback at the range of produce the new shop has.

• Roast badger and wildcat cheese baguette
• Hooper swan bhajis
• Pickled herring in chilli flavoured Castrol GTX
• Polar bear jerky
• Larks tongues (bags of 20)
  
• Thin cut dolphin slices
  
• Silverside of Polar Bear
  
• Penguin wings in aspic

He drags me to the back of the car and opens the boot to show me a 5 gallon value pack of Tesco "Old Bombay" whisky. "£7.50", he muttered, "Now go tell the headmistress that I have a migraine and I've gone home early. This little lot", he said stroking the drum and grinning lasciviously at the food, "will probably see me through the weekend." With that he pressed a package into my hands, closed the boot and sped off leaving nothing but the faint air of Embassy and a mountain of fag ash to show that he had ever been there.

As I went back to the office to type up his press releases and do his filing, I looked into the package and I forgave him for the toxic fumes and spittle on my lapels. It is just so long since I had the circular slices of ham with a smiling face made out of contrasting processed ham. What a wonderful day. I shall have a tin of alphabetti spaghetti with it to celebrate.

Time to wash smell of smoke off me: 2 hours
Highest speed on the way home: 27 mph (well I was excited)
Message spelt with alphabetti spaghetti: Alex Salmond is the best Kenni is veri nice Rona is a

Glasgow East

Mr Angus and I were instructed to abandon any pretence of being busy and to attend the by-election in Glasgow. Apparently this was called after a Labour MP became ill due to Parliament looking at his expenses. The election is being held in Parkhead, which Mr Angus says is as good as a visit to the Vatican for him.

Mr Angus and I have been given different responsibilities during this election campaign, as requested by Mr Angus, so that I am looking after the young men and he looks after the young women.

We have each been given different canvassing responsibilities in different areas. Each morning Mr Angus sets off with a couple of young ladies and comes back much later, exhausted after all the work he has done.

Each morning I pick up my special canvassing papers and set out alone on a high priority task specially given to me by HQ to make best used of my skills, ability and personality. Yesterday I was canvassing in Bearsden, today it was a four hour hitch to Gretna, and tomorrow I am scheduled to cover Aberdeen. Despite repeated questioning, HQ refuse to divulge the reasons for my travel to outlying parts of the constituency, except to say that they are too Top Secret for even me to know about.

I have met the candidate, Mason John, and I break the ice by telling him how useless the SNP Councillors are in the Western Isles and hoping that he doesn't have to ever work with any Councillors. I expound my view that Councillors should not be expected to have any chance to ever become elected politicians as none of them have any knowledge of the real world of hard work, in PR or journalism, or being a special junior assistant to a backbench MSP. It was shortly after this that I was allocated the special task.

I have worn out two pairs of shoes, or more precisely the left shoe of both pairs, but as they were identical pairs I am now campaigning with two right shoes on, which makes turning corners easier.

I have been recognised by many people this week, some of them were even not MSPs, and I am looking forward to getting home and writing their names into my special diary and adding them to my Christmas card list.

Doors canvassed: 1,968
Doors answered: 1 (campaign headquarters!)
Names on Christmas card list: 3

Computers handed back

Rhona has taken complete charge of the office and we have been without computers for some time as she has taken the issues of computer security very very seriously.

Shortly after replacing Mr Angus' assistant who shame remain nameless (Rhona) she decided that all the email messages that she had sent and received and the pictures on the computer were 'inappropriate' and they had to be removed. Neither Kenny nor I were allowed near Rhona's computer during the entire process, but the constant stream of tutting, gasps and other disapproving sounds indicated that the contents of the hard drive were not as they should be. After three days, Rhona announced that she would have to clean the inbox and outbox on Mr Angus' computers and hired specialists to remove all traces of the photographs.

Mr Angus was up in arms at this suggestion, instructing me to tell Rhona that he was not allowing it to happen, especially not the removal of the photos as he had nowhere else to store them and if he had to take them home and Mrs Jane found them, then there would be trouble.

After a quick call to Mr Alex by Rhona who explained the nature and content of the hard drives, and the briefest of conversations between Mr Alex and Mr Angus, his computers were collected by security men the following morning, sealed, and transported away. A call from London indicated that his computers there had also been impounded. Later that day, Rhona also changed our passwords - pending 'cleansing' - and awaited further instructions.

After merely three weeks the specialists had managed to virtually purge almost every incriminating item of evidence, and Rhona was instructed to start on our computers. I was lucky, as apart from a few accidental page views of some sites I came across purely by accident and returned to only a few times, there was nothing on my computer, as all the good stuff is at home.

Later that day, Rhona froze Kenny with a strong glare and sought an explanation of why he was downloading dirty pictures onto a Government computer. Kenny swore profusely and went outside for five cigarettes, returning 10 minutes later to explain that they were research in case any further accusations were made against Mr Angus. Rhona pursed her lips into a tight line and banged her fist so hard on the desk that the photocopier flew off. Kenny slipped out for another 10 cigarettes, which he smoked simultaneously and was back five minutes later to confess that he was the one who subscribed online to "Sheep and shepherd", "Suits ewe, Sir", "Tractor fancier", the politics section of the Guardian and "Sheep - young and shorn".

As we were both made to sit in the corner for the rest of the week, in total disgrace, I declined his offer of a portion of aniseed lapwing scratchings, which were apparently on special offer this week at Cross Stores. Mr Angus phoned to tell us that we had collectively responsibility for the material on his computer, and he was going to explain to Mr Alex just why we shouldn't be punished too harshly for downloading all the wrong things onto his computer.

I am in despair, as this is a black mark and it probably means I won't get promoted to assistant to the apprentice to the trainee junior minister for Gaelic things.

Naughty pictures seen: 1
Time spent in corner: 28 hours (with daily toilet breaks)
Constituents spoken to: None

Visit to Barra

Now that school Parliament is out for the 14 weeks of summer it is good to be able to relax and do what I want around my house, or go somewhere civilised like the mainland, or visit places where people know me, like my office.

So when Mr Angus told me to come to Barra straight away to see the appalling state of the hospital, I was more than happy to jump into my car and drive slowly, but carefully, to the airport - allowing 45 minutes for check-in and another 45 minutes for the 8 mile drive - to fly to the Island of Barra, which is even further away than Uist.

Ms Nicola was coming to the Island of Barra to rename the hospital as St Salmond's by the Sea and to criticise the Labour Party for failing to do anything about the appalling state of the hospital which has been allowed to go to rack and ruin over the past number of years. Or so Mr Angus told me as we formed the guard of honour at the airport, waiting for the plane to land.

As the plane landed I ran out onto the runway, which was covered in sand, and threw myself prostrate so that Ms Nicola could stand on me to avoid getting her Jimmy Chu shoes dirty, which she obviously appreciated as she wiped her feet on me more than once.

We climbed into the stretch tractor for the journey to the Ospadal (that's hospital in Gaelic!), narrowly avoiding running over Cllr Donald Manford, the supposed leader of the SNP Group on the Council who was astonished to see us there. "Perhaps we will be successful on the return journey" said Mr Angus, who invented the tractor when he was a boy, before showing the driver how to change gear.

Mr Angus was explaining to Ms Nicola about how the wicked and evil Labour Party had paid no attention to the hospital over the past few years, whilst trying to read the directions to the hospital that Mrs Jane had written out for him. The street of Barra had been swept clean of seaweed, sheep poo and anyone who might want to meet the Minister, or might recognise Mr Angus or even I.

As the tractor negotiated the pedestrians forming an orderly but unsteady queue outside the off-licence, Neil Neil MacNeil, Neil MacNeil MacNeil, John Iain MacNeil, Iain John MacNeil, Travis MacNeil, Oighrig MacNeil, Peigi Donald O'Neil MacNeil, Seumas Chavez and Philomena MacNeil Mugabe, Ms Nicola laid out her priorities for the meeting and the visit.

In no particular order they were

• No promises about anything
• Make the right noises at the right time
• Maximum photo opportunities
• Be seen to be interested in even the most tedious detail
• I was to carry her bags at all times
• Under no circumstances were critics to be allowed within 100m (at which point her civil servant smiled, and lifted his jacket to show a gun "for defence only")
• and finally, something to do with health care

Briskly pushing aside the patients and staff who were blocking the way for the photographer we managed to get enough photos to justify the ministerial visit, before we handed out the press release announcing the success of the visit and left after a visit that seemed to last hours, but took only 10 minutes including 9 for photos.

Mr Angus took us all back to the airport by the scenic route, which seemed to be the same route as we had taken the first time, and then Ms Nicola was gone. Mr Angus and I went back to see those who wanted to make representations to Ms Nicola with her apologies. Mr Angus sent me into the room and went off to see Harlot MacNeil "on constituency business". Thankfully no-one recognised me and I was able to get out after standing in a corner for barely three hours.

Press releases issued: 43 (42 by Ms Nicola and 1 by Mr Angus)
Protesters met by me: 17
People who recognised me : 1 (Mr Angus!)

Fuel policy

I am a hero for bringing up the cost of fuel as instructed by Mr Alex, Mr Angus and Mr John!

Even Mr Angus is issuing press releases supporting my motion to the Parliament and reminding everyone that he has been raising the issue without any success for many a long year; and that if it weren't for him none of this inaction would have happened.

My triumphal motion reads as follows (translated from the Gaelic):

Since the popular election of Mr Alex by the unanimous vote of the now free people of Scotland and the overthrown of the socialist-fascist regime of Joke McConnell, the NuLab dictatorship in Westminster have attempted to further impoverish the Scots by deliberately levelling excessive taxes on the petrol than we mine. This house notes that in a fair society, all Scots would be entitled to drive their cars as far and as often as they wanted without having to pay for fuel, due to the munificence of the impending Emperor Salmond, and that the proceeds from the gifting of the oil to the voters would be invested wisely in a fund to ensure that the continuing success of Mr Alex is recognised on a global, and indeed inter-planetary, basis by all humans, animals and others alike. Fuel regulator details to be worked out later. France give discounts to rural areas, we want the same, as long as it is paid for by Westminster, not Holyrood. Stornoway Gazette please copy in detail, press release to follow.

I have already had almost 10 signatures supporting my motion which means that there may be some people in the chamber when I speak. I have already written my speech, keeping it topical and factual, from the copy given to me by HQ from the press release they issued when they decided I would front this for the SNP.

Kenny phones to ask if this will reduce his red diesel costs for his tractor; and will it reduce the pinking of the engine in his car if he adds marine gas oil and Spry Crisp & Dry to the petrol? So many questions, so little time! I tell him to ask Rhona, as she knows everything, but he tells me that she is busy deleting personal letters and emails from an ex-employees computer, and may be a few days yet.

Motions moved this week: 1
Laxatives taken: 2 (no effect yet)
Ex-employees seen in Parliament: 1

School closures

With potential school closures in the constituency being a political hot potato ever since Miss Fiona allowed me to carry her bags around the schools, it is very important that I am seen to be objective, unbiased and outside the proposal so I can objectively make unbiased suggestions to Miss Fiona about how she can get even with the Comhairle for embarrassing her - and me! - on her last and only visit.

To that end I have been busy helping Gordon 'Diesel' MacLennan, my former employer, with his campaign of vilification and abuse towards the Comhairle, and put my staff at his disposal, after checking with Mr Angus that this was acceptable to him.

Gordon, myself and Rhona's mum and my former landlady Margaret Martin have been busy with preparing the giant posters for placing in dangerous places on the roads and trying to embarrass senior councillors at their places of business. Not only do I have to keep my involvement secret, but Margarita is a teacher at one of the schools being proposed for closure and cannot be seen to attack her employers. Thankfully, neither of us have any self-interest in the matter; Margarita due to her old age and impending retirement, and me due to the fact that no teachers responded to my request to rise up, bear arms, and overthrow the Council after my letters in September 2007.

With Kenny otherwise occupied washing the fleece of Baaabaaara the ewe, it was up to the three of us to prepare all the signs.

Gordon used all his skill to cut the dies for the posters using oxyacetylene torches on plate sheet, before joining the dies all together to spell out the message. With letters 18 inches high, glistening against the pristine white paper on the A-Board it was a sight to behold.

Margarita then took on the teachers role of checking the spelling, balancing the words, and removing the obscenities, before telling Gordon that the F, C & K in "Shut" were wrong.

Then it was my turn to unwrap the special non-toxic crayons that came with the Teletubbies magazine last week and holding the enormous Beano eraser - featuring Billy Whizz - I set to work colouring in all the letters. What a task they had set me! After only three weekends and a new copy of the Teletubies with crayons that Gordon had kept at the back of the newsagents, instead of returning for a refund, in case of emergencies like this, I was ready. Thankfully the moment hadn't passed, and as the signs were pulled into place I smiled to myself and headed to the plane to go back to civilisation.

I was almost discovered at the airport, when the Convener's wife asked about my lipstick, but a quick visit to the toilets (the Gents!) to remove the red crayon and I was away free, ready to help advise Miss Fiona on her objective policy of annihilation of the Comhairle education chiefs.

Crayons chewed: 6
Red crayons fully used: 17
Number of times drawn outside the lines: 332 (but thanks to Bill the Whizz, no-one will know)

Fishing policy

I have today proclaimed my total support for the new SNP policy to support fishermen, as told to by HQ, and I intend to ensure that all the fishermen in the Western Isles appreciate the hard work and deep though that Mr Alex has put into his seven-point plan announced by Mr Richard:

1. The SNP Government will immediately think about considering to set-up a task force to do something about the fishing industry (details to follow, much later)
2. Subsidies for essential equipment for fishing boats operating from harbours in the constituencies of Mr Alex and Mr Richard (to be extended to other ports in 2020)
3. The SNP will meet with and blame Westminister for fuel prices remaining too high, without the need to propose methods to alleviate this
4. Talk to Europe about potential industry subsidies, despite these being illegal under European law (see 3 above)
5. Mr Alex to invent a new engine that will make fishing boats more fuel efficient
6. SNP Government to legislate for fish to breed and grow faster, quicker and smarter by reducing the number of fish in a shoal from an average of 4,300 to not more than 4,000 by 2030 by the use of early-intervention techniques (to be developed)
7. All log books to be kept in Gaelic or Doric to discourage foreign boats raping the seabed encourage an international approach to the problem.

What a triumph this will be when I announce the proposals at the pier in Achmore tomorrow.

Gaelic words spoken: 17
Fish eaten: None, to preserve stocks
HQ press releases rehashed this week: 7

Attn newsdesks

Press release from Dr Alasdair Allan PhD MA DDT (SNP MSP for the Western Isles)

POST OFFICE CLOSURES

They are a bad thing, and Labour is to blame.

I have headed a virulent and wide ranging campaign against the closures across the constituency with a petition signed by many people (Kenny and Rona) but despite posting it to Mr Brown yesterday from the Post Office in Tong (closed 1998) he has ignored my pleas and mercilessly brutally murdered the Gaelic speaking Postmasters and Postmistresses of the Western Isles as they lay unsuspecting in their beds using a very sharp implement and without any concern for the mess that this will cause on the bedsheets, and ripped the throbbing, beating, heart from the children of these small isolated communities whilst they were outside playing on the swings with their friends, and eating the hearts like a Fife Werewolf in Lewis (I'm writing the film script at the moment in Gaelic for the new digital channel, and it will appear in the register of interests soon) without condiments or concern for the vegetarians who might be watching with binoculars for the next village.

7 May 2008

My first anniversary

To celebrate my first year as a Parliamentarian, Rhona has taken me for a bite to eat in the Woodlands Centre.

What a surprise when I get there, to find that there is also a night out for one of the retirement homes with some 30 pensioners and a handful of their carers! Rhona jokingly tries to persuade me that this is the entire membership of the local SNP, but I can see through her humour, as they gave me a round of applause as I entered, and none of these people are able to string together a sensible sentence, so I can see why anyone else would make a mistake.

I sit quietly in a corner nibbling on a carrot and all-bran rock bun, and drinking some Laspang- souchong and mackerel tea, as Rhona encourages a few of the poor demented individuals to come over and see me. They all seem to know my name, but I suppose that Rhona has told them who I am, and they all ask the same question, "Is Mr Angus coming tonight to make it interesting?"

I sneak outside to escape the smell of denture-fix and rubber underwear (not from Rhona this time!) and find Kenny sitting looking at the stars rising whilst smoking one of his special cigarettes. I stand upwind, to avoid the smell of Lebanese Black marram grass rotting my suit, and watch in an impressed manner as he rolls another cigarette using a Joan Birnie column torn from the Daily Record, some of the finest imported marram, and seals it off with three Royal Mail issue elastic bands. I suspect it may be the latter of those that is oozing into the Woodlands Centre and causing the fitting and collapsing, but Kenny seems strangely immune.

After barely three minutes in his company I feel strangely mellow, and starting to suffer the munchies. I insist that Rhona drive me home and I raid the cupboards for food before getting into my new glow-in-the-dark Iggle Piggle pyjamas.

Tins of sausage and beans eaten: 17
Stars shining on the bedroom ceiling: 2,377
Missing day: Saturday

Harris Tweed

The shocking thing about the decision by Mr Haggis to stop doing what my constituents who weave would like is not that a mere businessman is trying to run the business in the way that suits himself, rather than as I would like but that there is only one beneficiary from this entire operation.

Like the devil machines they were proposing to build at Arnish, the unholy have many faces. With Al*sd*ir M*rris*n and Brain Wislon running the other Harris Tweed mill on the islands they can be the only winners from this, and that must be stopped. I have submitted the following motion to the Parliament for early discussion.

"We the undersigned call on the First Minister (Mr Alex) to instruct Mr Haggis to restart production of all tweeds in all colours and quantities with immediate effect to prevent the Labour mill in Shawbost from being viable. Further, we call on Mr John to instruct the Valuation Board to raise a punitive assessment on the Labour mill with immediate effect; to be followed by a rotation of Health and Safety inspections, tax investigations, Minimum Wage visits, Environmental Health de-ratting inspections, and a mass raid by the Police to round up the unlicenced migrant workers from Stornoway. A demolition order, implemented with extreme prejudice, would also be appreciated."

I have also asked HQ to expel the so-called SNP supporter Alasdair "Rae" MacKenzie, who forthwith will be known as Mr Quisling.

Motions tabled this week: 1
Motions signed by me this week: 37
Letters from constituents: 1

Wind farm decision

There is sheer delight and unmitigated dancing in the streets of Stornoway street of Bragar as the announcement that the windfarm is to be banned is made.

No word was due for another few weeks, but at the annual conference Mr Angus made a verbal misstatement in the presence of the press and things moved quickly from there to where we are today.

On Saturday night, Mr Angus and I were talking at the Conference about the important matters that concern us, such as his development of a perpetual motion machine aged 3 which powered the whole of the West of Scotland for a week before the dilithium crystals broke and the hyperdrive was never the same again. At that moment Kenny came to see us bearing some drinks and some food - it was good to see him in a slightly ill-fitting waiter outfit dispensing nutrition to the important people, whilst knowing his place - when he offered me a Cranberry juice and a Tofu and Chocolate vol-a-vent. Mr Angus liberated three large whiskies and a small plate of peat-roasted barley-meal Europie buffalo-wings, made with the finest Europie chicken i.e. beach sperm whale marinaded in Tennants Lager for three months, and then flash fried in guga oil, whilst announcing that they were to be charged to his John Lewis expenses.

Calling loudly for a piper, he passed the food and drinks to his two female colleagues, and announced loudly to the room that he "was going upstairs to explain to the ladies just how he had personally stopped the Lewis Wind Farm and how the women of Lewis would be falling at his feet when it was announced shortly." Unfortunately I think this might have been overheard by some of the guests at the press reception, who thoughtlessly carried the news the following day and started contacting Mr Jim.

Mr Angus was red faced the next day, which he explained as carpet burns, and an emergency decision was taken to rush out the refusal immediately, irrespective of the merits of the case. What power I have to influence the Minister into doing what he tells me he is going to do. MWT have already promised to hold a street party in my honour, to which I will have to invite Mr Angus, as soon as they all come to Lewis for their holidays. They have promised that all the school children at all the affected schools will throw palm leaves at our feet and carve our names with pride into the peat banks for posterity.

MWT have also asked me to campaign against the schools closures, which the Council claim to result from a drop in pupil numbers from 500 to 17 in the past ten years, with a projected role of not more than 3 by 2011. What rubbish - the absence of children shouldn't be a bar on keeping the schools open, and I am sure that the Council can find the money by cutting their non-essential expenditure on things such as Polish language bin collections, twining with Riyadh and Bora-Bora, translating everything into Gaelic and paying for Councillors to visit the offices in Stornoway.

Expenses claimed: £7,445
Windfarms destroyed: 1
Gauva and kiwifruit tea drunk: 1 pot

Ex-employee

I came into the office today to hear Rhona screaming down the phone, obscenities spewing from her lips like a wino in the Grassmarket. Nothing struck me as unusual until she burst into tears and ran to the toilet, pausing only to flatten Kenny with a right-hook and knocking him from his chair so that his head banged against the barrel of pickled hooper swans he keeps for snack-attacks.

As I tried to resuscitate Kenny - I drew the line at mouth-to-mouth, as he tastes of a mix of Embassy fags and illegally syphoned red diesel - Rhona reappeared having repainted her face and drawn a wide swipe of scarlet lipstick across her face, most of which was on her mouth, and tried to arrange a video conference call to Mr Angus, who seemed to be constantly unavailable.

After 15 minutes of reconnection and disconnection, 2 hours of support calls to Government IT (conducted at a disgracefully high volume, and with increasingly disparaging and rude terms - I do not think it is possible that Mr and Mrs Patel could do what she suggested with a tandoori oven and a gallon tub of rice) contact was finally made when the suggestion was relayed to Mr Angus that Rhona would have to phone him at home if he kept cutting her off.

Well, I have never been as mortified as today when I had to listen to some anatomically precise statements mixed with what Kenny explained to me later were the kind of endearments he whispers in the ear of the ewe before the 'special time'. I had to dictate again a number of letters as it was not possible to hear any of my words above the berating, pleading and crying from the other side of the desk. We were both grateful when Rhona bellowed "But I never liked you anyway!" before breaking the phone into small pieces across the back of Kenny's head.

It was bad enough that the handset was broken, but when she started with the base unit and then the wall mounted switchbox I was forced to intervene, removing the phone cable from Kenny's throat before he turned entirely blue. I had to revive him with a sweet cup of tea with seven sugars (the usual), a salt-herring in orange-juice and 20 fags simultaneously.

Later that day Mr Angus phoned to apologise for the loss of service on his IT equipment which he explained was due to a malfunctioning bi-location transporter part not being as good as the one he invented in Primary School, and explained that reluctantly Rhona had decided to accept another job underneath another SNP MSP and he had reluctantly accepted her resignation on the understanding that she say nothing about anything that ever happened anywhere, ever, and took a pay increase as compensation. He was sorry to lose her, but she wanted to have a permanent position, and it was all for the good, but we must never mention her name ever again, especially not in front of Jane.

Just then the door opened and the new member of staff arrived. Her name is Rona, which as Kenny remarked through the blood and bandages "Makes it easy to remember her name in the morning". I don't know what he was getting at, and before I could ask he lapsed into a coma.

Pieces of telephone found in office: 558
Pieces of telephone found in Kenny: 326
Pieces of Kenny found in telephone: 7

Sale of Work

In the past the Lewis SNP Sale of Work has involved hours and hours of preparation, glad-handing and counting of the money, so it was a privilege to be invited to open it as Mr Angus couldn't be bothered and no-one else was available.

After the doors opened I addressed the massed crowds (Kenny, Rhona and a drunk who wandered in by mistake) for barely fifteen minutes about the magnificence of Mr Alex before declaring the Sale open.

Thankfully I didn't have to spend hours talking to people I don't know as the absence of donations, helpers and the public meant that the Sale was over and done with and the hall cleared within 45 minutes. I was told that we raised the fantastic sum of almost £395.75, €1.72 and a polo mint. After adjusting for the appalling handling of the economy by Alasdair Darling and Gordon Brown and the ravages that their actions have forced upon the islands it compares very favourably with the £1,000 plus we used to raise.

By getting away early, I have been able to concentrate on more important matters and have managed to get a very early flight off the islands and back to civilisation.

Councillors spoken to: 1 (Rev Murdo 'Maroot' MacLeod (Ind) leader of the provisional SNP Group (Continuing))
Donations given: £0
Flights to Edinburgh: £340, paid for by the Parliament.

Energy conference

Mr Jim is delighted with my speech and is lavish in his praise for both Mr Angus and I as he comes off the plane, and even before we have been able to give him an outline of what we intend to say. He is just such an able politician to manage to understand what is going to happen even before it does.

I manage to avoid talking to any Councillors as they will just want to engage me in debate on difficult topics about which they know nothing, and expect me to discuss these issues with them. Today is a day for unmitigated adulation of Mr Jim and the SNP Government, and by extension Mr Angus and I, and there is no way that I am going to let reality intervene.

Mr Jim gives a wonderful speech about how important renewable energy is for the islands and how the sources here are vital for Scotland to achieve the targets that have been set. And how important it is for all the windfarm proposals that he can't talk about must go ahead, despite the ludicrous arguments about birds. As no less a person than Mr Alex has said "Environmental concerns are just that, concerns, and must not be allowed to get in the way of Donald Tr*mp or the developments in Aviemore!"

How I applauded, as that is the message I have been telling everyone who will listen for years, and it was unfortunate that Moorlands Without Turbines had chosen today (as I asked them to) not to attend the meeting to hear the positive words of Mr Jim.

To underline the election winning strategy pursued by Mr Angus and I of opposing jobs, economic regeneration and renewable energy whilst pandering to the newly resident on the islands, Mr Jim left the meeting straight after his speech to spend the rest of the day in discussions with the supporters of the planning applications. One day soon I may have to accept their repeated invitations to meet with them, rather than ignore them in the hope they will go away.

Mr Angus gave a masterful speech which left the audience in shocked silence as he describe his early experiences in engineering, which led him inexorably to taking his PhD in the subject, and how he built the first renewable power station in Barra when he was a boy, using nothing but tractor parts and powered by seaweed. He reminded his audience that the entire population of Barra - Neil MacNeil, Niall MacNeil, Donald MacNeil, Neil Donald MacNeil, Donald Niall MacNeil, Neilina MacNeil, Donaldina Neilina MacNeil, Neil Niall MacNeill and their families amongst others - were eternally grateful for his foresight, intelligence and sheer handsomeness. He finished by expressing his eternal support for the Minister and that he had to leave for an important meeting with Rhona.

I had heard the story about the tractor on quite a few occasions in many other locations but every time Mr Angus lets slip yet another aspect of his famous invention that adds to the glory and glamour of his sheer ability. If only he wasn't so modest.

My speech was met with rapturous applause from the entire audience (Kenny and Rhona) as I explained how my views on energy would be best expressed by whatever decision the Minister took, and that any comments about renewable energy in election campaigns have been misunderstood in translating the document from its original Gaelic.

I finished by explaining the need to have the full involvement of a team to deliver a bilingual language development plan as a key fundamental part of attracting investors to move here, and to speak Gaelic fluently in all meetings, before and development could commence. Drawing on a quote from my hero Yukio Mishima, who I am translating into Gaelic, I reminded the audience (Rhona, as Kenny had gone out for a smoke) of his prescient words in わが友ヒットラー (Death in Midsummer on an open moor at the hands of MWT)

"Lowly is the dunlin compared to the fish of the river.
Beyond eternity lies only a nimby, still protesting.
One must act today, for tomorrow the shops may be closed.
Unto the ferry one must render; and often."

I came away from the lectern safe in the secret knowledge that I will be appointed junior assistant under-minister in charge of Gaelic Development plans in the next Government, and Mr Angus is to be given full Ministerial responsibility, as Minister for Derelict Tractors in a sponsorship deal to be announced by Massey Ferguson when Mr Alex sorts their planning permission problems.

Councillors spoken to: None
Vice-Conveners shouting at me: 1
Ministerial appointments promised for next decade: 1

Energy Conference

I am honoured to be speaking at this meeting which I hope will put the final nail in the coffin of big renewable energy plans for the Western Isles. Too many people cannot imagine the ruthless massacre of bird life that these big turbines will cause. I hope that the community will develop a few small turbines, but not too many or that may cause growth of the economy, which as we know is a bad thing, unless as a result of the actions by Mr Alex.

My topic is "Energy: An opportunity to be seized?", which is a blindingly obvious question.

Kenny and I have made a list of the key issues that I will be raising, and demanding that the Comhairle taken forward immediately from their own vast resources, given that Mr Jim has already told us not to suggest that the Government has any role in this matter.

The first opportunity that need to be grasped straight away is to ensure a vigorous and reliable campaign to ensure that all relevant energy terms are translated into Gaelic. Key words and phrases that need IMMEDIATE attention include:

• Three-phase switching gear
• Nacelle
• Cetacean-friendly sub-surface tidal-power experimental device
• Low-energy bulb
• On-shore deep-storage non-radioactive non-nuclear facility
• Turbine-blade manufacture capacity
• Nuclear meltdown
• Mme Guillotine meets the Amec Board
  

I am proposing that the Comhairle, together with Highland and Islands Enterprise, the University of the Highland and Islands and Bord na Gaidhlig develop a huge range of courses to encourage and seize the opportunities that are offered.

• Gaelic as a Foreign Language
• Retraining engineers at the Arnish windfarm factory as Gaelic speaking nursery nurses
• A Professorship in peat extraction techniques, focussing on the non-extraction of peat (Gaelic speakers only)
• Tidal barrages for beginners
• Engineering small turbines as they don't harm birds (sponsored by RSPB)
• Successful location of windfarm developments (to be delivered through the Falkland Isles campus and sponsored by MWT)
• Subsidy application (advanced course)
• Social Care - how to look after the elderly and infirm in a collapsing economy (Gaelic and Polish only)
• Oil extraction and pipeline observation for bystanders - West Side campus only
• Solar power - can Lewis become the new Sahara?

At least no-one can accuse me of complacency.

Instructions received from HQ: 46
Gaelic words spoken: 4437
Bright ideas: 1

Mr Alex is not guilty

The Local Government Committee, of which I am a senior member, met today to issue its report into the so-called Tr*mp affair.

As I prophesied, even before I saw any of the evidence, and as HQ instructed, there was not a shred of evidence to prove that Mr Alex had anything whatsoever, ever, to do with the consideration of the planning issues surrounding the application, and he knew nothing about the matter until the Labour press started to stir this up over nothing.

It was a great shame that the other parties represented on the Committee bother to waste their time by looking at the facts and hearing from Mr Alex and Mr John as they explained how the contacted anyone and everyone they could until the matter was called in.

Sadly, they came to the totally false conclusion that Mr Alex and Mr John had anything to do with the decision they instructed the Chief Planner to take to make such a momentous decision at short notice, and in the absence of the facts. As I said in the private session of the Committee, "Does it matter that Mr Alex abused his position and tried to control matters beyond his remit, before instructing Mr John to tell the Chief Planner to do what he can to rescue the plan proposed by his pal, Mr Tr*mp?"

We SNP members on the Committee were not going to let the Committee play politics with such a serious matter, so Kenny, Doris (who confusingly is a man) and I decided (as instructed by HQ) to dissent as a group on every issue where there could be any suggestion of any impropriety by any Minister, or any of our friends.

I was to lead the way and I duly started by dissenting to the title of the report; and then the ISBN; and then the page numbers; before passing the batton of dissent to Kenny. That is not Kenny from my office, as that would just be silly, but another Kenny (no relation), who is apparently also a MSP.

Mr Alex will be pleased at the hugely favourable coverage for him that has followed from our actions!

Dissent registered: 11234 times
People called Kenny I know: 2
Camomile and daisy tea drunk: 1 cup

Mr Desmond McNulty MSP

The Parliament as one to celebrate the introduction of RET onto all the routes from the Western Isles, except of course, the bitter and twisted Labour Party. And their onetime allies the LibDems. And our allies the Greens. And our other allies (although we aren’t allowed to call them that) the Tories. And Margo MacDonald.

Mr Stewart made a wonderful speech explaining how poor and impoverished the Western Isles were and how none of our other policies would impact in any way on this sad state of affairs. He then explained, slowly for the Labour Party members, that the RET rates were set different from the Equivalent Road Tariff as used by the AA, the RAC and the Inland Revenue but it accurately reflected the cost of a 4 litre Range Rover, the typical vehicle of choice of a crofter, which they used to haul the peat up from the beach, and to take the tourists onto the centre of the Barvas Moor and then back laden with deer, salmon, dunlin, golden eagles and a few brace of grouse.

Luckily I had my Star Trek combined communicator, phaser and mobile phone on silent, as at this point Kenny texted me to say that he ran his pick-up on two parts red diesel to 14 parts seal oil and it costs him no more than 2p per mile to do so. I despair of Kenny, trying to bring rational argument into the political debate, but now I know why you can smell the pick-up from a half-mile away.

Just then a Labour member, who shall remain nameless, accused Mr Stewart of acting like Chemical Ali. I don’t want to make too much of it, but Mr McNulty then suggested that the sole reason for introducing RET was to allow the Government to round up Gaelic Speakers and transport them to the Western Isles where all the adults and children would be slowly poisoned by Mr Stewart using a combination of highly toxic Trumps and worthy, but pointless, Government initiatives. But not before they had worked themselves in skeletal form rowing the new oar-powered catamaran ferry across the Minch. “Where”, he spat, “Was that in the manifesto of the fascist, death-camp supporting, party opposite?”

This was just too much for me and I was absolutely incandescent with rage, as Donnie MacInnes phoned to tell me my press release in the Gazette was going to say. How dare anyone question what an SNP Minister might be doing? Which is the question I posed to the Minister, as he had asked me to.

I caught up with the guilty party later outside the Chamber and had words, “Just who were you calling Comical Ali, Mr McNulty MSP, Sir?”, I asked. I was devastated by his reply, “You, lad, are the real Comical Ali!”.

I cried all the way back to my room.

Scripted interventions read: 3
Phaser setting: 16 (Extreme explosive effect)
Constituents met: 0

Health Board

The disgraceful state of affairs at the Western Isles Health Board was made clear to me by the briefing note and clear instruction sent to me by Miss Nicola.

The meeting of the Audit Committee at which the expose of the appalling situation under the previous Government administration was a revelation to those of us who thought that the problems at the Health Board had been resolved.

I am now convinced that the in-depth investigation by the Committee under the clear, but unattributable, leadership of Mr Alex into the cronyism and political appointee system encouraged by the hated and discredited Labour regime will demonstrate that the new Board and Executive will be free from political bias.

This was confirmed to me by the Chairman, who despite being appointed Andy Kerr (Lab, Discredited North) has not let his Labour roots affect his non-political stance. I was also very grateful to Sandy Matheson, a former Chairman of the Health Board, for his intervention in pointing out that Manson and Currie were lying. Sandy was, of course, a former Labour candidate for Westminster, but his turning on his former party, and his ruthless naming of the entryist Marxist/Leninist colleagues into the Health Board indicates just how far he has moved politically, and what a wonderful job Mr Alex is doing in uniting the entire country behind him.

Mr Manson will suffer for his failure to blame Labour totally and utterly for everything that has gone wrong, and the late Alasdair Morrison will take is share of the blame for supporting the appointment of an SNP activist to the role of Chief Executive before Mr Manson.

I've received instructions that Mr Currie is not to be blamed for anything, as he was an SNP member locally - obviously long before I ever heard of the Western Isles - and the rumour is that Mrs Currie is a former paramour of Mr Alex from their time in at St Andrews University, where Mr Alex won every prize going on the sports field and beyond, including setting numerous world records.

Hopefully all this upset and angst will lead to a more stable Health Board, as Donnie MacInnes said I said in the Gazette, although I haven't a clue what he actually meant.

The most telling quote from me as made up by Donnie was "It was also observed at the meeting that Mr Manson and others did not actually live on the Isles permanently." How ludicrous, to try and understand somewhere you don't live in and obviously have no attachment to.

Gaelic words spoken: 3
Pile cream used: 1 tube
Constituents spoken to: 3 ( a new record)

AGM

The AGM was a great success, mainly due to the fact that we didn’t let anyone know it was taking place. The Committee were reappointed after being proposed en-bloc by Mr Angus, who was an honorary member for the evening, and after I issued the already completed voting papers to those attending the AGM (the Committee) it was nice to see total unanimity in the support for the fantastic job that the Committee do in doing as Mr Angus and I tell them.

The absence of those who might want to debate matters meant that there was more time for my brief two-hour speech declaiming the skills, abilities, intelligence, wit and wisdom of Mr Angus (but Rhona re-read what she had written for me, I decided to take out the section on being a family man, as she told me to) and his brief two minute speech on my abilities, which seemed to focus on my quiff.

Since being struck by lightning last week, and surviving, I realise that there is a greater plan for me, and that divine intervention means that there is a REAL purpose in my life, rather than the meaningless, pathetic, clueless, subservient, inadequate and pointless course that I have followed over the past twenty years. When I work out what it is, I will follow it, but until then I will do exactly as He recommends; and the first blessed sign came direct from Him when Mr Alex sent me an email telling me that He would be acquitted by the Local Government Committee when we come to consider the ill-founded Trump Inquiry and the Aviemore Inquiry, and the other ones that aren’t public yet.

It was a mistake to let Kenny do the catering though.

The sandwiches were filled with Ness Duck, which Kenny described as being “Like Bombay Duck, only from Ness.” Further inquiry elicited the fact that this was in fact lamb, left to air dry for two years in a sheiling before being salted for six months in a Tenants Lager keg. Kenny claims this sells exceptionally well at the Tapas nights in the Ness Social Club.

The main dish was Buffalo Wings, which Kenny later admitted was actually skate wings which had been left to ferment for eighteen hours in a bucket of fat extracted from a beached whale (or seal) before being deep fried in a batter of Super Lager, Skigersta milled marram-flour and all bound together with an egg of a Golden Eagle.

The evening came to an early end when the management stopped Kenny from building the fire over which he was planning to roast a stag that he had found dead of suicide apparently.

As we left, Rhona tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I know who the mole is!” before grinning in a threatening manner. My blood stood still. Did she mean me? What had I done?

Messages from above: 3
Councillors ignored: 4
Political discussions at the AGM: Nil

Air Discount Scheme

The Air Discount Scheme has been saved, thanks to my intervention in the matter, and I am one of the first to know!

Mr Stewart has issued a Press Release in my name which I have just received from a journalist, a mere six hours later, announcing that over a week ago the European Union have approved the continuation of the scheme for another three years. This will deliver 40% savings to everyone who lives in the islands, or who is on the electoral roll, which means I can benefit too. This is so much better than RET, I explained to Donnie MacInnes at the Stornoway Gazette, as important people fly rather than take the ferry, and there has to be a scheme to help people like me and not just the ordinary people who travel on the boats.

All the questions from journalists are about ADS and not RET, which is a good thing as it distracts from the problems that Mr Stewart will have when he makes the official announcement next week.

It is good to see that the new SNP Government have left behind the Labour legacy of duplicity, misinformation, spin and the use of friendly journalists to break a non-story, as I said to Donnie MacInnes when he sent me a first draft of the press release that I am going to send to the Gazette later today.

Angry Ministers spoken to: 1
Press releases written by Donnie MacInnes: 27
Press releases carried by media other than the Stornoway Gazette: 2

RET story leaked

At the weekend Mr Angus and I were sent a press release from HQ about RET which was so secret and confidential we were not allowed to see it, and had to fill in the blanks for our comments with our eyes closed, before faxing it on to Donnie MacInnes at the Stornoway Gazette.

Mr Angus made a clever and intelligent comment about RET being able to "lower the water table" or "taking water off the table" or something similar, whilst I just praised Mr Alex for bringing the needed rains to the islands using publicly subsidised ferries, and reminding the voters that under Labour there had been no rain on the islands in living memory, and no ferries either.

It then turned out that we were calling for Road Equal Travel to be introduced on all the ferries that Mr Alex has brought to the islands. This will be a wonderful scheme if it were introduced, but I have not been told yet what it will involve, but I know that if Mr Alex and Mr John are involved then it will be wonderful, as I told them both.

Mr Stewart is coming to the islands next week to make the announcement, and hopefully I will be told the details before the meeting. I think Mr Angus might know something as himself and Rhona are having private little meetings in the cupboard, which is obviously very warm as Mr Angus is always having to button his shirt up when he emerges.

But then Kenny draws my attention to Voldemort's website where he has published full details of the scheme, including the prices, which shows that it is more expensive for some of the journeys which seems to send Kenny into a spin. He was cursing in some kind of weird Ness Gaelic dialect which neither Alan nor I could understand, except for the occasional obscenity.

I phone Mr Stewart in tears (that is to say I was in tears, he was just furious and shouting) to explain that the details of what he intended to say appear to have been leaked and to apologise for being the bearer of bad news. After listening to a mere two-hour dressing down, he promised to be able to deflect this bad news story with some other good news which he would pass to Mr Angus later.

Rhona took me aside later and announced that she had been appointed as mole-finder General, and would be tapping all the phones, faxes, mobiles and emails and she would be in charge of opening all incoming post and ensuring that outgoing messages had a secret code embedded into the print to allow us to identify the sources of information. I had nothing to worry about, she said, "As you never say anything interesting anyway", and, "I'll make sure that you receive only the bare minimum of information, relevant or not."

Mr Angus has already left a message from Rhona on the new recording equipment as a test, he said, and she goes bright red and blows him a big kiss to indicate that the equipment is working.

Kenny returns to advise that six new infra-red cameras have been installed in the toilet.

Constituents met: 1
Journeys more expensive under RET scheme: 4
Cups of rosehip, fennel and peppermint tea drunk: 1

Wind turbines

The SNP Councillors have dared to put out a press release suggesting that the implications of refusing permission for the turbines would be to prevent any economic development on any site where there is any form of designation.

How dare they attack me in such a manner and suggest that I might in any way be wrong, or that the Government might not be 100% right in anything and everything it does.

I am double furious because the press release was put out by Annie MacDonald, and she is seriously scary, and doesn't suffer fools gladly. For some reason she doesn't seem to like me. Mr Angus has issued instructions that whenever she calls, he is out, as he doesn't want to suffer her wrath again.

As the SNP council spokesperson on renewable energy Mr Angus and I have engaged with her on this topic on many occasions, explaining to her how we refuse to discuss renewable energy with her because she is wrong, wrong, wrong and no amount of listening to her will change our minds from the politically opportunist position we have adopted. No matter how much she tries to bamboozle us with logic, facts, figures and examples we refuse to provide her with any justification for our stance as that will just give her more opportunity to explain why we are in error, and we can't have that.

Kenny is instructed to phone her, as Mr Angus and I are both 'out' for the rest of the year and to explain to her in Gaelic that she is not to attempt to contact us or come to this office ever again and that the Police have been out on standby.

We know that this is a difficult task, and Kenny has to gather his wits and strength by going outside and smoking 14 Regal High-Tar Extra-King Size Spanish cigarettes which he bought from behind the bar in the Ness Social Club. Although not Duty Paid he explains that they were legally imported from Tenerife by Willie Alasdair Uilleam of Eurodale in a complex EU approved barter deal involving an articulated lorry load of peat, salt herring, free-range seagull eggs, a few barrels of pickled dunlin and a case of Corncrake and cheese crisps shoplifted from Cross stores.

I turn a blind eye whilst Kenny takes a quick drink from the bottle of "Old Sheep Warmer" he hides in his desk. I have to support the consumption of local produce, even if in this case it is a highly alcoholic and toxic product fermented in an illicit still in a bothan on the wild open moors of Fivepenny Borve by Kenny's uncles, who were named after the places they were conceived, Barvas Cattleshow MacLeod and Inbed MacLeod. The label is beautiful, showing a blackface sheep in the moonlight, urinating gently on the base of a burning wind turbine, whilst a crofter approaches carrying a pair of wellies and a sly grin. The advertising slogan "Caution: not for human consumption" appears to have been printed on the bottle as part of its original purpose for storing sheep dip.

As soon as his sight returns, but before the hallucinations start, Kenny quickly dials the number and bellows down the phone to Annie that she is a disgrace to the party for thinking for herself and not doing as she is told, regardless of her principles - he spits out the last word, although he may just have been trying to get the taste of the drink from his mouth - and before she can get a word in edgeways he tells her she is banned from contacting us, and that a Court Order will be sought if she tries to access the building. His last words before dropping the phone and lapsing into a near coma were, "..and you will be the next one to be expelled after Manford goes!"

We emerge from behind the desks where we have hidden and Alan and I have a wonderful big hug to celebrate. As we leave the office to go home, Rhona steps around the still gibbering form of Kenny and sharply applies her stiletto to his crotch, "Just for fun", Alan and I know that we will be next if we do not do as she instructs.

Gaelic words spoken: 3,389
SNP Councillors ignored: 3
Constituents met: 0

Telvision interview

I do an astounding television interview with STV in which I unequivocally confirm my probable support for the likely decision that the Government might take in considering the application for a windpoint in Lewis. Without doubt I will almost certainly fully support the view that the Government are minded to reject the application. That will show the doubters just how much of a community leader I am, and hopefully Mr Alex will see my performance and be minded to give me a promotion to apprentice substitute junior assistant vice-deputy Minister for Gaelic.

Having seen the interview, I have had strong words with the journalist concerned as they started the clip with an interview with Voldemort and his child playing straight on the emotional heartstrings in a basic, crude and superficially attractive way, and he also had things to say that undermined my position. How dare he play politics with such an important issue and try and contrast his fertility with the absence of any woman in my life.

In Kenny's absence, Rhona screams politely down the phone at the journalist on my behalf threatening many unpleasant personal afflictions and hurt, and tells me that I will not have any more problems from that quarter. Knowing my concerns she is able to put me totally at ease by reassuring me about public perception. "Don't worry what people think", she says, "I tell them that you are saving yourself for exactly the right person, and that you are a quite attractive individual in an asexual sort of way, and that surrounding yourself with young men shouldn't be misunderstood."

I hear Kenny quietly laughing in the toilet.

Journalists spoken to: None
Gaelic words spoken: 347
Windfilms stopped: 1 (probably minded to)

Burns Night

In order to commemorate our national poet, and to demonstrate the deep and lasting support that the Western Isles have for our Scottish National Poet and his deep and lasting impression on the Scottish psyche, and following guidance from Mr Alex that the SNP must respect and reflect on his fine words at this important time, the Western Isles SNP have decided not to hold a Burns Night celebration.

No doubt my political opponents will try to make political capital out of this, by suggesting that the active membership of the local SNP has fallen, but the simple truth is that we have never been able to get enough members to attend any function, except in exceptional circumstances, so the non-event is simply normal.

The local branch remains strong with average attendance at meetings having increased by 20% since I was elected, and there is plenty of room in the Offices for many more activists to attend, so I look forward to having to having to get more tables out to accommodate the seventh supporter soon.

Tonight Kenny presented me with a new Sgian Dubh, inscribed with the motto, "To Alistir Allen. Become the Yukio Mishima of the islands", which he tells me shows his desire for me to take my political success to the highest level. As a kilt is an Imperialist symbol of the oppression of the Gaels by the Germano-Unionist-Quisling class following the '45 in which my family would have suffered so much had they lived anywhere north of Selkirk, but with which we have had so much fundamental and heart-felt affinity over the many, many years since I was elected, I have no intention of ever wearing one. Kenny reminds me that this doesn't mean I cannot find a good use for the knife.

Haggis eaten: none
Poems read in broad Scots: 35
Constituents met: 1 (Kenny)

Top secret - wind to be refused

I was phoned yesterday by Mr Jim to tell me that the giant windplant on Lewis was to be refused, probably, after due consideration and only after giving the applicants another chance to persuade the Government they were wrong. How big a donation does it take for that to happen?

I went out to meet my constituents in Bravas, Galston and Point of Ness were they laid rose petals in my path as I drove through in the cavalcade comprising me in my green 1.4l Micra and Kenny in his rust-brown 1957 Anglia Estate, with optional lights and brakes. Rhona had already sped off in her Mini for a liaison with her special friend, who was visiting from London. The rose petals did look like hay and shredded Dunlin, but Kenny later assured me that this was an old tradition. Apparently the men of the area celebrate good news about the environment by catching, cooking and eating a few Golden Eagles, a barrel or two of red-throated divers and a few hundred brace of other birds; whilst the women of the district carry the catch and the men on their backs for a couple of miles to the Cross Inn, where the men sate their thirst, before the women prepare the feast and sandwiches for the coming year, and then light a giant Wicker man to celebrate the arrival of the subsidy cheques.

We head to our final destination with a triumphal flourish as I put the car into third gear and the massed hordes descend to meet our vehicles. As the horde, Donald Murdo Morrison and his brother Murdo Donald Morrison, unload the cases of Tennant’s Lager with the Tennant’s Girls on the back, from the rear of Kenny’s van. Kenny admits to me that he is smuggling the lager despite threats from the ‘security men’ at the Ness Social Club. I tell him to desist from such improper purposes and help him with a case of export-only Golden Virginia, and a case of Iceland’s famous Guga-flavour profiteroles which have slightly melted, judging by the smell.

As the men finish the fourth case of lager and open yet another packet of roast corncrake crisps – made on site at the Borve minimarket – I finish reading my briefing for my TV interview tomorrow.

Miles driven: 50 (return journey)
Greylag goose sandwiches eaten: None
Gaelic words spoken: 3397

Stornoway Gazette

The local newspaper has tried to suggest that I am wrong footed by the announcement by the Government that there will be no referendum on the windwheels planning application.

How wrong can they be about things! It is very clear that when I called for a referendum and said that it should be organised by the Council as it was the best way for the Government to understand public opinion which they could then take into account when coming to their decision to refuse planning permission, what I actually said was that the communities should ignore the referenda which they have held in their areas as these are not representative and the Community Councils should find the money from their limited budgets to organise new referenda run by professionals which will come up with the same result which the Council and the Government cannot then ignore.

This master plan was met with public acclaim and incredulity at my sheer brilliance and was embraced without question by all the relevant Community Council in Airidhantuim, who advised me that they had no money to do such a thing, and that the previous votes were clear and unequivocal.

The other Community Councils were obviously happy with this plan as they haven't replied.

I am so angry with the Gazette that I will have to contact the editor, Donnie MacInnes, to register my utter anger at the utter incompetence of the report. I control my wrath long enough to stop scaring Alan, and instruct him to immediately phone Mr MacInnes' wife - who is also the Chairperson of the local SNP - to tell Mr MacInnes of my extreme displeasure with the situation
and threaten to withhold all my news releases from the Gazette if such libellous, defamatory and naughty nonsense appears in the future. Alan leaves a scathing message on the answering machine and reminds me that Donnie has authored all the news releases for the next month, so my threats are less than threatening.

I drive home, and on the hour long journey I decide on my course of action. I will not attend the next Branch Meeting of the local SNP. That will teach them.

Referendums organised by me, but not delivered by the Communities: 1
Journalists spoken to: 1
Highest speed driven at: 15mph

Audit Committee (very exciting!)

The Committee meeting went like a dream. The Chairperson was Welsh, but spoke with a Scottish accent, which confused me a lot. Thankfully he seemed ready for the questions I was told to ask, and although I didn’t recognise anyone, the questions were answered by the right person.

The meeting was in what I am told is the Council Chamber. I think I have been there once before, but given the unimportance of the Council, does it matter.

That nice Mr George Flukes was very helpful in directing me to all the right places in the building, and his notes which he passed to me were very helpful in making sure I knew what I was saying. Or more accurately, gave a good impression that I knew what I was talking about. I only got confused once, when I had to think for myself, but thankfully that doesn’t happen often.

Mr Flukes invited me for something called a f’ing large dram later, which I think is some kind of parliamentary bonding ritual, but I explained that I had to go home to my Horlicks. Apparently he was able to walk by lunchtime the next day, as his whisky allergy had cleared by then. Apparently, he has to have at least a gallon of his medication to see him through each day, just like fellow sufferer Ken Livingston.

Welsh SNP members met: 1
Gaelic words spoken: 17
Councillors met: None. Keep it that way.

Audit Committee (exciting!)

The Audit Committee of the Parliament are in Stornoway tomorrow, and for some reason they want me to attend! I am so excited that it appears that I have acquired a reputation for something.

Later Kenny tells me that they are meeting the Health Board, so I hope that no-one is unwell, as I know that the care you get in the Ospadal nan Eilean is not as good as my new BUPA care plan. Alan is excited by anything to do with the Health Board and repeatedly offers to get the nurses’ outfits from his flat for us to wear again. I have had to tell him that these uniforms are for the ‘special’ holidays, and he is despondent and distraught until he realises that the doctors might be in uniform.

Kenny passes me the list of spontaneous questions, provided by HQ, that I am to ask and a copy of the Press Release for tomorrow where Mr Angus comments in detail on his invaluable input into the careful considerations of the Committee. At least that is what it says in the briefing from HQ.

Press releases read: 10
Constituents met: 1
Instructions from HQ met in full: 37

Christmas presents

I'd really like to thank all my friends for the thoughtful presents they sent to me for Christmas. It was lovely to open all of them as I sat in my flat in Edinburgh.

* Mr Angus for the signed photo of him (unsigned)
* The Western Isles SNP for the glow in the dark Transformers pyjamas
* Lewis SNP for the matching Transformers slippers
* The Stornoway Gazette for the final draft of my press releases for January
* Donnie Gazette for writing my diary for publication in the New Year edition
* Kenny for the monogrammed castrating shears
* The Western Isles Young Scottish Nationalists for the Alex Salmond colouring book and crayons
* My office staff for the lavender scented handkerchief set and an annual membership of Club Ego, which appears to be some sort of male club
* Back Gaelic choir for the tuning fork and the book on solo singing
* The Convener of the Comhairle for the detailed map of Stornoway, with the Council buildings highlighted
* A full list of my forthcoming voting record for 2008 and beyond from Mr Alex
* A card from MWT wondering when I was going to deliver the promised windfarm referendum

In addition Rhona sent the wrong card to me. I'm not who it was intended for, but the very rude and filthy descriptions of her last visit to London meant I couldn't get past the first sentence without blushing. Her real card was forwarded to me by Mr Angus.

There may be more presents waiting for me in Lewis, but I will collect them when I travel there in February.

Queen's Christmas message

This time of year the only thing I want to do is to be with those I represent and love, so that we can enjoy the real meaning of Christmas.

I am therefore spending the three week long Xmas holidays in SNP HQ trying to catch the eye of Mr Alex in the hope he will speak to me.

Thankfully, I have not had to go to Stornaway for a few weeks and with any luck I won't need to go back there before February.

SNP HQ was showing the first version of the New Year message from Mr Alex on constant replay on every TV screen and computer monitor, and we were encouraged to compulsorily take a copy away and play it 3pm on Christmas day as a prelude to Mr Alex taking over the Scottish Broadcasting Corporation in time for next year.

Rumour has it that one of the members had made some comments about the film, but I know it cannot be true as his name is not in the record of members and his supposed desk has obviously been occupied by a "Mr Salmon Alexander" for a long time. I don't know quite why Mr Alex drew attention to the industrial shredder working overtime in the backyard during his speech about loyalty.

His rousing call to absolute obedience was met with ecstatic approval and applause every time the cue cards were lifted by Ms Nicola, whose friendly Rottweiler only savaged a few minor Councillors.

We pledged utter loyalty to the SNP before being taken for our annual appraisal, where after being strip searched and hosed-down we were given an audience with Mr Alex. I was rewarded for my unfailing unquestioning obedience by a promise that no part of the file kept by HQ would be released to anyone this year - I didn't know they had THOSE photos, and I am told that if I work hard in 2008, 2009 and 2010 I may be given the negatives.

MSPs met: 7
Dog bites: 1
Viewing of Mr Alex's message: 438

D*n*ld Tr*mp

As part of the Committee asked to investigate the golf course proposed for Aberdeenshire I value my independence of thought and clarity of thought and ability to understand and comprehend difficult and complex issues, with only the minimum of guidance from HQ.

Using the vast experience and understanding of the planning system that I have demonstrated in dealing with the Lewis Wind Farm proposal I am perfect for the key role I will play in the Committees deliberations.

I have already laid the ground for my future Chairmanship of this key Committee - now known as the Mary Trump Committee for Local Government Whitewash and Communities for Millionaires - by issuing the following statement:

Alasdair Allan calls on all MSPs, MPs, Councillors, Journalists and members of the public to desist from interfering in the crucial and independent Parliamentary investigation. At this time the making of scurrilous and unfounded allegations by Nicol Stephen and repeated by those who do not know the full facts will only prolong the anguish of those who have been falsely accused by muck-racking journalists reporting the facts. It is crucial that the Committee investigate the crucial documents that are being prepared at the moment and that the crucial decision to clear Mr Salmond is taken objectively and quickly, so that he can move on to ensuring that permission is granted to Mr Tramp.

Kenny tells me that this might be my finest hour. I modestly tell him that HQ had no input whatsoever to the final version of the press statement and that I have eaten and shredded the draft they sent and that I expect my abilities to be recognised in the next reshuffle, or perhaps the next decade.

Journalists spoken to: 3
Gaelic words spoken on Radio nan Gaidheal: 666
Snubs to local organisations: 1

Cllr Charles Nicholson

Cllr Nicholson is a newly elected Councillor on the Comhairle, but he and I are the victims of a most unpleasant, motiveless and malicious hoax.

I have known Cllr Nicholson for some time and I value his intelligence and his insights into the voluntary and youth sectors of the Western Isles which I am sure he will pass on to me if we ever meet.

Chazza, as he is known to everyone on the islands, is also a member of the Bridge Centre management committee and I have been told that at the most recent meeting he was fully supportive of the plan detailed in my letter below to allow me to open the centre, supported by the Minister, and to name the premises after the First Minister. However, this proposal was maliciously undermined by some of the other members of the committee who contrived to persuade Chas that this blog was in some way a spoof and that he should not pay any attention to my letter. Poor Chuck got into such a muddle that my proposal was was lost in what was obviously a pro-Unionist clique of windfarm supporters who are obviously all inbred cousins of The Donald.

On one of my occasional visits to Stornoway next year, I will be writing to Charles telling him that THIS IS NOT A SPOOF BLOG and that he should not listen to the imbeciles who suggest otherwise, and would he like to join my re-election campaign team. He can also become my second contact within the Comhairle to keep an eye on the SNP Group and report their mis-thoughts to me, so I can finalise the expulsion dossiers.

Blogs read: 1 (mine!)
Instructions received from HQ: 347 (All acted upon)
Contact from constituents: 0

Servicing

I received a message from Mr Bruce the Chief Whip that I have to attend a reprogramming course before Christmas as apparently I have been 'off message' in some areas.

We have a group hug in the office, and tears are shed as I consider the implications of the message, and fear and trepidation sets in. I cannot think why I am being called in as I have done everything that I have been asked and nothing more, absolutely nothing more. I think that I must be carrying the can for the Council not doing as I pleaded with them, and causing problems for the Government by asking questions, when they should know better.

Kenny passes me a note that reads "The office might be bugged by HQ" and we sneak outside and into his car to discuss matters in a fug of cigarette smoke and surrounded by fleeces and half-eaten guga suppers still in their wrappers. He has heard from reliable sources, that we are to be taken in to be reprogrammed to forget the words "Donald Trump" and to be taught how to avoid discussing the issue. This is frightening but I know it will be for the best, as the media (except for the ever reliable Stornoway Gazette) have acted irresponsibility on this matter, and I intend to table a motion in Parliament proposing their nationalisation under the direct editorial control of Mr Alex, which should solve these problems.

Gaelic words spoken: 745
Passive cigarettes smoked: 41
Days in power: 223

Bridge Centre - an open letter

Cllr Donald John MacSween
Point
Isle of Lewis
Europe
The World
The Milky Way
The Galaxy

Dear John

As I look out my office window on my occasional regular daily visits to the island the sun is blocked by the new building you are building on the building site across the road.

It has being built for a long time now, and it looks like it must be almost ready apart from the bits that aren't.

I am writing to advise that the Minister has gracefully accepted my invitation to open the new building you are building whenever it is completed, or on his next visit to the islands, whichever is most convenient for him and me.

Please let me know how graceful you are for all the funding provided by the SNP since when we were elected and how honoured the Committee will be to be allowed to call the building the Alex Salmond for First Minster Centre for Public Joy and Happiness. I have had a road sign made in anticipation.

Yours in the spirit of anti-Unionism

pp Alasdair Allan

p.s. Are you any relation to the Labour candidate?

Health Board review

Ms Nicola was in Stornoway today, and the smell of fear and excitement in the office was palpable.

Poor Alan spent most of the morning in the toilet, as his nerves seem to have got the better of him, and he was scared about meeting her. But so was I as the last time we had a Ministerial visit the Council tried to spoil it by discussing matters of policy when they had been told to just sit back and do as they are told and listen to the Minister. I met with the Vice-Convener of the Council and showed him the relevant instructions in my top-secret MSP handbook (SNP edition) which reads as follows

114. Backbench MSPs will not engage in independent thought.
115. During a Ministerial visit, you will not ask any questions, unless these have been provided to you before hand.

And I showed him the list of penalties for such Breaches which are contained in Appendix A and Appendix B and Appendix C.

Mr Angus inquired if Ms Nicola was going to be dressed as a nurse when she gave the Annual Review, but a loud growl from Rhona soon silenced him. Alan then gave a low growl and disappeared into the toilet with some hankies, as his stomach was obviously playing up again.

I took Ms Nicola and Mr Angus to the Health Board, with Ms Nicola guiding me in detail on the complex and long journey from the Airport. It is amazing that she knows the streets of Stornoway so well, but I suppose that is one of these things you must learn to become depute Leader, and I now know just how much more I have to study the street signs on my next visit to Stornoway. Ms Nicola even spoke to me as I drove as she humouressly inquired if I was ever going to get out of second gear.

I was allowed to carry her bags and sit in the corridor waiting for her and Mr Angus to finish the important business that they had, and the subsequent press release made it very clear that I had a key role in the whole process, whatever is actually going on, and that Ms Nicola would keep me fully informed about her decisions after she takes them.

But - Oh! Joy! - I was given a question to ask in Ms Nicola in the Parliament about her visit, which shows just how important I am to the process, even though I don't understand the detail fully

Q (Albert Allen) Can the Minster deign to update the Parliament on the calls for an independent inquiry into the finances of Western Isles Health Board?
A (Depute Leaderene Ms Sturgeon MSP) I am grateful to Mr Alan Angus for raising such an important matter. I haven't decided where to shift the blame to yet, but when I decide what I am doing, I will make sure that he gets the Press Release at the same time as everyone else.

Donnie at the Stornoway Gazette already has the headline set in 92 point bold "MSP saves Health Board" so I look forward to a triumphal issue on Thursday.

Gaelic words spoken: 47
Boxes of hankies used by Alan: 3
Wrong turns on trip from Airport to Health Board: 17

St Andrews Night

It is important that Scotland marks St Andrews Day in the manner advised by Mr Alex, as our national saint is important to the cultural heritage of Scots and anti-windfarm protesters alike.

Therefore, the local Branch have cancelled our annual St Andrews Night dinner and celebration as neither Mr Angus nor I could be bothered to attend.

Shortbread eaten: 1 slice
Drams of whisky consumed: None
Meetings with constituents: None

Advertising

I have decided to improve the advertising in the Stornoway Gazette for my surgeries by including contact details such as a phone number for constituents to reach me at Mr Angus' office.

I have also asked the Stornoway Gazette to ensure that the adverts are placed in the Public Notices section rather than the Livestock section, as I think more of my constituents will find it there.

This is in NO WAY connected to the comment by Voldemort on my previous advert. No in the slightest, as I haven't ever seen it or discussed it in detail, and I didn't encourage people to post dismissive comments, and I was always intending to add my phone number anyway.

Kenny tells me that because I have added the phone number, I will have to ensure the surgery adverts are carried the same week as my visit, so that the public will read about my triumphant visit after it has happened. He explains - reading from a memo - that Mr Angus has recommended that I do not interact with the public on a casual basis, as they may ask difficult questions and if I don't know the answers then I may only cause difficulties for him, and this was an explicit order.

After considering the matter for three seconds, I agree with the expert analysis.

Gaelic words spoken: 1149
Blogs read: None. I do not read any others and certainly not HIS.
Herbal tea consumed: 1 small cup

Sunday ferries

Alan reports that I am receiving lots of letters from those who are opposing the possible introduction of Sunday ferries to Lewis. It is clear that the Churches have so many people with exactly the same view on the issue that the letters are identical, except for the name and address obviously, and I am now convinced that they are in the majority as the letters tell me so. I have consulted widely with the SNP Group (Continuing) in the form of Cllr Murdo MacLeod, who authored many of the letters, and has advised me not to speak to the official SNP Group as they might simply confuse me.

I have decided to get fully behind the campaign by saying nothing to indicate my view on the issue one way or another. I'm considering pledging a referendum on the matter for my re-election campaign.

I have decided to write to the Minister to ask his advice on how to avoid this issue and get him to instruct CalMac to help me with this problem. Kenny points out that the Minister effectively owns CalMac, but I patiently explain to him that that is not how Ministerial non-accountability works.

I don't know why ferries are such a big issue. I see the ferry every week, as I fly over it on Parliamentary expenses. On the rare occasions that I am in Lewis over the weekend, I know that there are plenty of flights in and out to keep the public happy.

Letters received: 367 copies of the same anti-Sunday ferry letter
Calls from constituents: 1
Expenses claimed: £4,267

Seachd - the inaccessible film

When I launched my campaign to have Seachd adopted by BAFTA as the indigenous language film to represent the UK at the Oscars, many people thought I was jumping on a Gaelic bandwagon.

I asked a piercing and incisive question of the Minister

S3W-5072 - Alasdair Allan (Western Isles) (SNP) (Date Lodged 3 October 2007) : To ask the Scottish Executive what representations it has made to the British Academy of Film and Television Awards (BAFTA) about the criteria for nominations for Best Foreign Language film at the Oscars, in light of BAFTA’s decision to nominate no films in this category despite the Scottish Gaelic film, Seachd, being put forward for nomination.
Answered by Linda Fabiani (25 October 2007): I share the disappointment felt by many that Seachd was not put forward by BAFTA as the UK entry for the Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars. Whilst the Scottish Government has no direct influence over the decision making process, the First Minister has written to BAFTA UK on this issue expressing our disappointment. I understand that the film has received many positive reviews and has been selected for the Rome and Vancouver Film Festivals, I wish it every success at these prestigious events and I hope audiences across Scotland, and more widely, continue to enjoy Seachd.

So it was clear that this tremendous film was an important milestone for the Gaelic language, and with my support and the popular acclaim in Scotland it was going far. So it proved this weekend when it achieved a monumental third place in the Scottish Baftas, beaten only by the two other nominees, and despite having disappeared from all public cinemas after extremely disappointing box offices. If only BAFTA had listen to me and Mr Alex and had put it forward for the Oscar's there would have been a real chance of the film beating the entries from Burkino Faso and Outer Mongolia to show just how important Gaelic is on the world stage and shown that we wouldn't look like idiots for supporting an unsuccessful, inaccessible and poor film.

I was so pleased with the outcome, I poured myself a small caffeine and tanin free tea, and went to bed early.

Gaelic films supported - 1
Grey suits owned - 3
Hair gel used - 1 tub (small)

Meeting with the Minister

I met with Mr Stewart this week to press home the case for the continuation of the Air Discount Scheme by asking him some difficult questions that he had written for me in advance.

As I told Kenny later, it all went downhill after the first question, "Your munificence, praise be to Salmond, can you please tell me what good news I can bring to the people of the Western Isles, who hold you in such high esteem, but still well below the awe in which they view our First Minister, and no mistake?"

"Shut it!", he said, "This is party political or you would have been invited to Victoria Quay to try to say something vaguely sensible in front of the civil servants. I'm going to have to answer the FoI request and you're going to be hung out to dry because of your failure to ask anything sensible."

At this I nearly choked, remembering Kenny's warning that Voldemort had been asking questions of the Executive about what I had done to ensure ADS would stay. I can't remember doing anything, so he shouldn't have anything to find, but somehow Kenny thinks this mights be bad.

"Smile!", he growled, "And issue this press release, and if you are lucky I might discuss ADS further within the department." And with that I was escorted out and into the lift. A huge
success for me, as I am sure the Gazette will report.

Ministers met (and touched!) - 1
Airmiles earned this month - 400
Gaelic words spoken to Minister and his minders - 0

The Budget

The budget was a rousing success, as I told Mr Angus so that he could issue a press statement about the events in the Chamber. Kenny was given a copy later, and changed it to include my name before sending it to the same journalists. And they say I play second fiddle to Mr Angus!

Mr John’s slogans and themes were ringing in my ears all last night as we new MSPs leftt he chamber chanting the snappy core message which encapuslates the promises Mr John will deliver, “Healthier, Wealthier, Faster, Smarter, Longer, Wider, Greener, Younger, Drier, Thinner, Soberer, Hungrier, Sunnier.”

He met everyone of my aspirations, it said in the press release that HQ have written for me, except for the absence of any mention of Gaelic. And not much money for RET. And nothing for the islands. And I really didn’t understand the rest, although the email sent to me before the announcement was very clear that I was to applaud when told to do so, and not talk to the press about anything I didn’t understand, which is why I have told Kenny to take messages from any journalists who phone, and not promise that I will return the call. Kenny laughed, “You think that they will call you?” which I think means he will filter the calls.

Gaelic TV

I am so very cross with the BBC for not supporting without reservation the creation of the digital Gaelic BBC channel that I can barely speak.

Kenny is raging, quietly, rocking gently in the window of the office and staring at passers by with a look of sheer anger and contempt. Some of the party members have already commented that Kenny reminds them of the Bates Motel, a reference I do not understand. He can only mumble a few words in Gaelic, mainly about sheep, and staggers out to have a fag every fifteen minutes. He is supposed to hand out leaflets to potential voters and to engage with potential voters but the fug of smoke and his incessant rambling, allied to the cursing and swearing about the latest developments, I feel may be counter productive.

Rhona is constantly phoning Mr Angus, and between giggles is loudly cursing in words I still cannot find in the dictionary in either English or Gaelic. Mr Angus is sure that the latest decision is a deliberate attempt to get at him, and he feels that an important, cutting and incisive press release might be necessary. Rhona will do that sometime next week, but in the meantime we have spoken to our mole in the Gazette who will ensure that our views are carried even before we issue the statement.

I intend to write to the Minister, in Gaelic, demanding that such public consultations are a nonsense and that he should respect the views of the majority as reflected in the opinion of the elected representative, irrespective of what others say, or common sense dictates, and without consideration of the cost to the public purse or the public good, or without considering legal obligations or financial constraints, and do as Mr Angus has promised his constituents he will deliver. Even though he was never in the position to do so, and hasn't really tried to achieve it, or met with the relevant bodies, or done much beyond issuing press releases.

I am so irate I will have to have another cup of camomile tea, which Rhona advises is very relaxing after a session with a politician. She is right as I snooze, satisfied, thinking of Mr Angus.

TV channels cancelled: 1
Angry Gaelic words spoken to Kenny: 23
Fags smoked by Kenny: 85 (full-strength with filters ripped off)

Satire

I'm appalled that the Stornoway Gazette has lowered itself to satire by employing a 'journalist' to write a satirical column supposedly written by me.

Any fool could tell that it was not written by me as it was too boring, dull, uninteresting, repetitive, tedious, tiresome, uninteresting, grey, dreary, a celebration of the mundane, fawning, repetitive, uninspiring, lacklustre, mind-numbing, repetitive, long-winded, banal, dreary, humdrum, monotonous, repetitive, vapid, pointless, stodgy, bromidic, repetitive, joyless, protracted, obtuse, moronic, repetitive, pompous, overblown, irritating, repetitive nonsense.

I had to check with Kenny that he had not cut and pasted my memos into an unauthorised press release to the Gazette, before I phoned to complain. Kenny confirmed that he would never dare allow anyone outside the office to see any of my memos to protect me from public contempt, and that taking the initiative was not in his job description. I was delighted to hear this as it meant that Mr Angus was still able to ensure that both Kenny and I did what he expected, and didn't do anything stupid like thinking for ourselves. We both sought confirmation from Rhona that we were doing the right thing, and after a very giggly whispered conversation with Mr Angus she told us that we were not in trouble. Not this week anyway.

Press releases issued by Mr Angus: 3
Cut and paste press releases with my name: 3
Conversations with journalists: 0

Welcome for Harris Tweed moves

Angus MacNeil Alasdair Allan welcomes the acquisition of the mill in Shawbost. Angus MacNeil Alasdair Alan has been working closely with Iain Tailor since yesterday and providing advice to Brain Wilson as and when he has required it to ensure that the deal went through.

Speaking from (fill in somewhere plausible) Lewis, Mr MacNeil Mr Allan said, I have spoken to weavers at some time in the past and I think this is a good thing.

This clearly demonstrates that Alex Salmond in his role as Leader of the SNP First Minister is having a direct and immediate impact on the economy of the Western Isles. Said Mr MacNeil Mr Allan, "Mr Salmond teleported to Shawbost at dawn on 4th May and has been working furiously on this deal 38 hours a day, whilst a body double and a holographic system has allowed him to appear to be in Edinburgh and other places."

"Mr Allan/Mr MacNeil [delete as applicable] has done a power of working behind the scenes in securing this deal since the day after it was announced, and I look forward to speaking to Ewen Taylor, when he comes to congratulate me on my efforts."

"Alex Salmond promised full employment for everyone in Scotland as Police Officers or Primary school teachers, and then taking Alasdair Morrison out of the ranks of the unemployed shows Mr Salmond's skill, dedication, commitment and utter compassion for those less fortunate in society. Let the plight of Mr Morrison be a warning to other who consider standing for the Labour Party."

Note for editors
For further information about the glorious role we played in this matter, please fax any other press releases to the office to let us claim the credit. [Gazette: You already have the script, thanks]

Naughty phone calls

Kenny is furious and is threatening not to answer the phone any more.

After my masterful appearance on Isles FM on Friday, and my promise that the 30 mile journey would be funded by RET, a lot of people have phoned asking what happens after the ferry reaches the 30 mile point? And do they have to swim the last 20 miles or are CalMac going to charge £100 per car for the final leg?

It was simple mistake to make, after all how am I expected to know anything about ferries or distances or travel when I have only ever flown over the ferry on my expenses paid travel. And seen it tied up at night in Stornoway once, when I was looking at street signs.

I tell Kenny to get back to work, as I am writing a letter to JK Rowling wanting to know why she hasn't published her book in Gaelic yet, and asking for a translation for Voldemort.

Incessantly ringing phones: 3
Distance across the Minch: 50 miles
Gaelic translations of Harry Potter: Zero

The local media

I am almost apoplectic this week with anger at the Stornoway Gazette, Isles FM and the West Highland Free Press for reporting such glaring lies about what I am supposed to have done or said.

The WHFP, which as everyone knows is the mouthpiece of Brian Wilson who you think would know better after Mr Alex won the election despite the WHFP offering no support to any SNP candidates in any way. I know that Brian Wilson left the House of Commons after becoming bored with sitting on the backbenches and being unable to influence Government policy. How pathetic is that. I will be happy to stay on the backbenches for the rest of my life and do exactly what I am told without any expectation of influencing Government policy, which is precisely the difference between Brian Wilson and I!

Last week they printed a mischievously, wrong and totally false story about my attempts to get Voldemort ("He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named") expelled from the SNP using as evidence nothing more than some of the emails I sent to SNP HQ based on stories told to Cathy MacInnes by her husband who just happens to be the Chief Reporter in the Stornoway Gazette. That my claims were without substance is neither here nor there, as the emails clearly demonstrate that the facts were not the issue. How dare they use these emails which were private, confidential and embarassing and without giving me the chance to make any comment about the matter to set the record straight. That I refuse to answer questions on the matter is not the point.

I was so angry about that horrible behaviour by the WHFP to use facts to prove a case, that when I was told by Bunter that Voldemort had been on Isles FM, and may have talked about some things that were less than complementary about my role in his expulsion. Bunter told me that he thought Voldemort had said other things that attacked the SNP but he couldn't remember them but that I should say something about it. I was so furious that I had to get Alan to phone and plead with the directors to allow me to get the chance to put my case. How dare they not tell me how their guests are going to be so that I can decide if they need to prevent them coming on air before we know what they are going to say.

The threats worked. Alan was in tears after nearly five minutes of trying to talk to the directors, so I went for the nuclear option (at this point I would like to make clear that I am anti-nuclear, and totally in favour of renewable energy, as long as it is in someone else's constituency, so I'm not going to say that I went for the wind turbine option, am I?) and told the directors of Isles FM that the sponsor of the most popular programme on their radio station was threatening to withdraw. Yes, Calum Murdo had told me that after the failure to allow me the chance to respond he was thinking about cancelling his long standing support for "Sheep disease of the day" which is broadcast at 5am in the prime slot for crofters, insomniacs and those trying to catch the ferry. That told them!

But before I could sort it all out the Stornoway Gazette had the nerve to deny my claim to SNP HQ that they had leaked information to me about the voting intentions of Voldemort. How dare they! Everyone knows that Donnie MacInnes was passing all the political stories to me, and now this junior reporter who wrote the story is denying that he told me anything. Has he no sense. He's just getting his boss deeper and deeper in trouble, as I didn't lie in the email I sent to HQ telling third hand stories that had no basis in fact. If only anyone knew where Mr Angus was, we could get him to tell us what to say, but there has been no sign of him for many weeks.

With the WHFP and the Gazette both attacking me, poor Alan is constantly sobbing, and I had had to send him home before the office is flooded or before Kenny hits him, again.

Everything went well on Isles FM until Mr X asked me for the details of how RET would work, and I had to stall him which I did magnificently by feigning complete ignorance of the detail of any such scheme or how it would work or how much it would cost or where it would operate, were it to ever be borught in which it might be soon. Not one bit of detail did he manage to get from me, except that the 30 mile crossing over the Minch would probably at some time possibly get RET, but not necessarily at a level equal to the tariff on an equivalent road.

Mr X then had the cheek to point out that the ferry crossing was actually 48 miles, as if he was trying to prove how little I knew about the subject. Alan cried all the way home, as I kept my temper under control by driving at no more than 15 miles per hour, even on the straight bits of road.

Bad journalists: 3
Good journalists: 0
Gaelic swearwords learnt: 1 (but not used!)

A wonderful conference

Mr Alex was so good this week, he just couldn't put a foot wrong and he is such an inspiration to all the members of the SNP, and the general public, and all the voters, and their children and their children's children, and the Diplomats from Qatar, Zimbabwe, Vanuatu and Cardiff, and the people in England who haven't yet got the opportunity to vote for Mr Alex, and the people of the European Union who should make sure Mr Alex gets a seat at the top table, where they will all hang on his every word. Just like I do.

Mr Alex acknowledged my presence many times, looking in my general direction more than once, and clearly looking straight through me whilst speaking from the podium. His speech was so good that I didn't need the electric shock from the implant to encourage me to stand up and give a spontaneous round of applause as we were all trained to do right through the week and as the special delegates agenda clearly instructed us to do. There were only four spontaneous rounds of applause scheduled for the week, but we actually managed five, without serious repercussions.

The Conference carried on into the Sunday, and the fact that the Western Isles SNP had previously mandated the party never to hold a Conference on the Sunday was abandoned in the wild celebrations and spontaneous partying as men wept with joy and women beat their breasts
at every sight of Mr Alex. Well, at least Alan and I wept uncontrollably on each other's shoulders for hours at a time.

Mr Angus and Rhona were busy together most of the time, with Mr Angus having a lot of letters to write, and Rhona having to go to his Suite for most of the Conference. Whatever work had to be done was obviously very successful as both of them were smiling and winking at each other all through the rest of the Conference.

As Conference closed the word spread though the hall that at the conclusion of his speech six women in Glasgow had spontaneously given birth to twins and that all twelve children had been named 'Alex' in his honour. His sporting feats seem to emulate Kim Il-Sung of North Korea, as I was reliably informed that on Thursday he had skied all the way from the top of the Cairngorms to the conference in under five minutes, despite never having skied before, and that he had achieved a hole-in-one on every hole at the local crazy golf course, a feat never before managed by any mere mortal.

As Mr Alex left the hall, a spontaneous group of women (Edinburgh SNP ladies section) spontaneously laid petals in a carpet for him to walk from the hall, and cast lilies, roses and daffodils in front of him as he walked imperiously to where we who are not worthy
were waiting so that he could grace us with his presence.

I left the hall totally overwhelmed, and when Mr Bruce told me that I would be lodging a spontaneously written motion, which he had written for me earlier, to the next session of Parliament calling on Mr Alex to be given the title of 'Divine Being, and Ruler of the Known Galaxies, and Glasgow' and become First Minister for life I could barely contain my excitement. So it was an urgent visit to the toilets and I was glad I had taken some clean underwear with me.

I collected Kenny from the bar where he had spent the entire week reciting to other delegates the complete list of ear markings in sheep from Ness to Barvas, or comharra-cluais as it is known in Gaelic. After four days, he had only reached the description of the practices in Dell, and was very disappointed to have to stop so soon without giving a full listing of the families and the crofts they owned since records were kept, but the various new friends he had made seem to have had to make their excuses and leave after only five minutes.

So back to Edinburgh tomorrow, where I will receive the motion that Kenny will type up from the instructions dictated by HQ, and my future is secured.

Spontaneous action undertaken, as instructed: 27
Gaelic words spoken: 555
Hankies need laundered due to tears of joy: 3

Annual Conference

This week is an exciting time for me as we have the Annual SNP Conference which is held every year. As someone who is now important, I will probably get a seat somewhere near the front and a big badge with my name on it, reading "Alasdair Allan", so that people can call me by my name, rather than just ignoring me as they have in the past.

Kenny phoned today to tell me that my room was confirmed, and that I was to be in the hotel next to the hotel next to the hotel where the conference was to be held. It is so exciting to be at the centre of everything, and to see the seat of power. Which is not, as Kenny says, Mr Alex's bum as he walks past.

Kenny has got me a special premium single room above the kitchens with a view of the largest car park, and apparently there isn't much noise from there in the room after midnight; but I'll be long asleep by then.

Mr Angus has been booked a special room which befits his status as a senior figure in the party, doing what he is told in a proper fashion, and a major influence on telling Mr Alex how good he is at being leader.

Kenny tells me that Mr Angus has a suite with enough room for four people and storage for a set of bagpipes to keep him straight. I have no idea what he is talking about, but Rhona stapled his hand to the desk, so I suspect that he is being rude again.

I see that 12 of my colleagues have signed my motion giving an accolade to Mr Alex, and I hope he will see us as his 12 disciples and reward our forthright and outspoken flattery.

Mr Bruce tells me that I will be moving a motion at Conference, and that I will receive the speech later, but I must read it exactly as written, even if I don't understand any of it. How I laugh and tell him that is what I do in the Chamber every day.

Gaelic words spoken: 779
Photographs in the Stornoway Gazette: 1
Bad words about me in the West Highland Free Press: too many to count

My staff

As befits someone of my status and ability, I have decided to do the best for the islands by employing staff who have the ability to undertake the work I instruct them to do in the appropriate fashion, or when Mr Angus phones, to drop everything and do as he says, and write brief concise press releases from me, as dictated to them by Mr Angus.

After much searching on the mainland, I appointed Graeme from Stonehaven to the Edinburgh post and Alan from Glasgow as my local eyes and ears in the islands. Despite not advertising anywhere not one person from the Western Isles applied for the posts I had already shortlisted, requiring the basic skills of being young, male, single, Gaelic speaking (except for Graeme) and with no connection to the islands other than having worked for my campaign. I was delighted when I was given the list of names by SNP HQ from which to recruit, which saved me the bother of having to consider ability or party loyalty in appointing an acolyte.

Both Graeme and Alan are nice young men, and Alan has settled into the Stornoway office quickly with the witty banter between him and leading Kenny to comment very favourably on our humour that "It is like working with Larry Grayson and John Inman". How Alan and I giggled like young girls at his flattery!

Gaelic words spoken: 998
Press releases written on my behalf by HQ: 19
Press releases reported anywhere: 1

New wave power development

I am appalled that nPower and Wavegen have had the temerity to bring forward a wave power scheme for the west coast of Lewis, without involving Mr Angus and I in a campaign against such a development. I have already spoken in Gaelic with one person who opposes this scheme as it might affect the view as he drives to his holiday home in Ness, and I intend to write to the Minister to express the extreme opposition of my constituents to this proposal. I will also provide him with a Gaelic translation of my letter, so that Mr Gordon Brown is not seen to be the only politician who can write letters in Gaelic.

The devilish scheme may very well have the support of the entire community, and provide innumerable benefits to the islands, the fishermen and pleasure boat users but there is no good reasons for building upside-down turbines in the sea other than as the thin end of the wedge to develop and build upside-down turbines on land in an effort to confuse me, and to try and sneak the wind farm through the Government.

I am now immediately officially launching a major campaign provisionally called "Seabeds without Turbines" in a blaze of publicity by writing a short note to the community councils asking them to phone me if they have the time to discuss how they can launch this campaign.

OOOOH! I am so angry.

Gaelic words spoken in a raised voice: 364
Cups of lemon and rosehip tea sipped: 1
Renewable energy projects opposed: Not enough!

National Mod

I'm off to the Royal National Mod in Fort William as a member of the Back Gaelic Choir, where lots of people will speak Gaelic, and all the newspapers, television programmes, menus, street signs, road signs, weather reports, tourist advice, programmes and shops are all in Gaelic. Heaven; and I hope no-one will spoil it by speaking in English, and I written to Mr Alex requesting a 'Total Exclusion Zone' be set-up around An Gearasdan (as it is properly called) to ensure that those speaking other languages are kept out.

The choir are staying in the centre of An Gearasdan and I have been given my own room in Camusnagaul overlooking An Gearasdan, albeit on the other side of Loch Lochy and a mere 25 miles away.

Mr Angus still has a house in An Gearasdan and whilst I am not allowed to stay there, or even visit with an explicit invitation in writing he is going to stay there when he visits the Mod. He obviously has a lot of important parliamentary business to attend to as Rhona is scheduled to be there too to help write some letters. According to Kenny, there is some important Ugandan issues that need to be resolved by Mr Angus.

Gaelic words spoken: 11,339
Strange looks from passers-by: 46
Buses caught: 3

Press release

I am so proud that Mr Alex has asked me to put my name to a Press Release that the press office have written. As he said to me, "You there, are you a MSP? Good, you'll do", which left me positively weak about the knees that he has recognised my brilliance and intelligence, and obviously the motion that I have placed into the Parliament has been brought to his attention, which has left him highly impressed as he added, "You're Allan the sycophant, aren't you?"

I am to be told how to lead the attack on the Lib-Dems over farming subsidies, whatever they are, to allow Mr Alex to attack Labour because of something that happened in London. Mr Angus calls to shout at me that he is the Rural Affairs spokesman and how dare I tread on his toes, but I explain that I am just doing what Mr Alex has told me and he goes quiet.

In the end he tells me that he is going to issue the press release in his name, with a quote from me at the end, and after Kenny phones me to say that Rhona is on the rampage in the Constituency Office about the matter waving a pair of castration pliers and screaming at the top of her voice, I agree to Mr Angus' detailed instructions.

Mr Alex and Mr Angus speak to the press, and I hold my press conference in Gaelic as instructed by Mr Angus in the Lobby of the MacDonald Holyrood Hotel. Unfortunately no journalists turn up and I am told to move on by the Concierge. I did think 3am was a funny time for a press conference.

Gaelic words spoken: 357
Irate phone calls from Rhona: 7
Admiring glances at Mr Alex: 43

Accomodation costs

A journalist has asked me for a quote, I'm famous, someone knows who I am. Perhaps now the other MSPs will stop thinking I am the message boy and will stop asking me to get them a coffee.

I am asked for my view on the use of accommodation allowances for MSPs and I have an opinion which I am prepared to give, after I check with Mr Bruce that I am allowed to say what I think, or at least I am allowed to say what he thinks I should think. Mr Bruce's most junior assistant tells me what to say, and I memorise the words carefully to make sure I get it right.

I claim the moral high ground by pointing out that I am not using the Parliamentary allowances to buy a flat, preferring to rent. He swallows the story and I appear in print yesterday hopefully not looking too smug or scantimonious.

The story about renting is of course an excellent cover, which my landlord Donald John and I have concocted, as I wouldn't be allowed to buy a property given that I already own a property in East Lothian, which is under 30 miles from the parliament, and which I could drive carefully in under two hours.

I'm sure that with practice I could get up to almost 40 MPH on the A1, cutting my commuting time to under 90 minutes, but in the meantime I am able to get a rent from a property and have the Parliament pay a friend for another flat all within the rules. I just have to make sure that no-one in Gordon the Western Isles finds out what is going on.

Mugs of hot chocolate: 2 (I'm celebrating my fame)
Press releases drafted: 37
Press releases issued: 1

Photo in Gazette

Today's Stornoway Gazette has a lovely photo of me with the longest serving member and the youngest member in the Western Isles. Jean Brannigan has been a member since 1942 and Fergus MacPherson (the son of my election agent in Uist) is only 4 years old.

No-one mentions the fact that he wears nappies, cannot write his own name and has little idea who I am, and I suspect that Mrs Brannigan has the same issues, but we take the photo with me smiling as vacantly as one can when faced with voters who don't understand the importance of Gaelic in setting the tone for geo-political negotiations in the future.

Back in the office Kenny loves the photo and gives it the caption "Aon Tir, aon Canan, aon Daoine" which I explain to Mr Bruce later translates as "One land, one language, one people". I still have no idea why he asked me if I was a member of Combat 18.

Gaelic words spoken: 237
Hair gel used: 1 small tub
Councillors snubbed: 3

Seachd: Inaccessible Pinnacle

How dare BAFTA refuse to put this film forward for an Oscar.

It may be badly written and directed, with poor sound and camera work, and the director's daughter might have had a major role in the film, and it might have no chance of recouping the taxpayers money invested in it, and BAFTA may have had two meetings before deciding that neither it nor the Welsh film were good enough to represent the UK, and I haven't actually seen it, and probably very few in the UK ever will, but...

It is in Gaelic and stars a constituent so it should have been nominated as the best foreign language film despite its many failings. And Gaelic not being a foreign language.

Press releases: 1
Phones calls from Kenny: 3
Pager instructions obeyed: 34

Windy Alexander

I neatly skewered Mrs Alexander in committee today, and my incisive dialecticism and debating skills will no doubt be much discussed in the communties in the Western Isles for many a long day.

I look again in admiration at my words: "Would it be helpful perhaps to write to Ms Alexander to say that perhaps it would save herself some trouble in the future if people quoting discussions from committee bothered to find out what was actually said."

Wow, just how good am I, and with barely a lot of briefing from Mr Bruce I was able to get most of the phrases he told me to use in much the right order.

How could the Convener dare to say it wasn't a point of order, and try to accuse me of political point scoring when I never voted from him and he refused to speak to me in Gaelic.

Gaelic words spoken: 734
Cups of tea drunk: 1
Bowel motions: 3

An interesting book

Rhona has lent me an autobiography which she promises I will learn a lot from.

Ms Jones was apparently a very important Welsh Nationalist whose writings use allegories about underwear, cigarettes and wine as metaphors for the failure of Westminister to deliver the needs, requirements and yes rights of the people of Scotland and Wales. And the failure to address the issue of the Gaelic and Welsh languages. Except in the case of Welsh obviously.

I am wildly enthused by her writing, to the extent of reading the book until I was very tired (after 10pm!), and I have decided to use her trademark writings as an aide memoire to myself to demonstrate my successes.

Gaelic words used: 4365
New party slogans learned off by heart: 3
Glasses of wine: none (obviously!)

How hard I work

I wrote a serious letter to the Parliamentary Committee explaining just how hard I work and why I need more money to be able to bring the Gaelic language to the unsuspecting voters in the Western Isles.

I was supported in this righteous, and totally not self-serving, campaign by George Fuchs who I am told is a stalwart supporter of the Whisky industry, and once was someone important. He agreed with me that MSPs did much more work than MPs and should have bigger allowances to make us appear much more important.

Kenny was very supportive as he typed my press release, "You and George are so much more important than any MP", he said. I'm looking forward to telling Mr Angus about my new friend.

My speech

The education authorities in the Western Isles have annoyed me more than a little by their strange demands that I abide by protocol and do not encourage the teachers to revolt against their employers.

Today I made a speech in the Parliament, and a very good one it was too said many people who didn't hear it. Reading it again later I am very pleased with the quality of what was written for me by the Government and superbly printed by my assistant.

Speaking about the needs of the secondary education sector, I studiously avoided any reference to the Western Isles or the current problems there and I most certainly DID NOT make any kind of special pleading for the Comhairle and the problems that there are with dropping pupil numbers and too many schools and the schools needing major building work.

To make sure that the Education Department got the message, I didn't contact the Council ahead of the debate to get any kind of information or to see what I could do to assist them. Now they know who is in charge in the Western Isles!

I go out to celebrate my new found mental strength, hitting the Royal Mile pubs in a debauched manner for a small ginger beer before I catch a bus home in time to watch Reporting Scotland. And so to bed.

An interesting letter

The Director of Education has told the Headteachers to ignore my letter.

How dare he?! Mr Alex is in charge of education in the Western Isles (although he has allowed Miss Fiona to make some decisions), and I am allowed to make decisions press releases on his behalf.

Apparently it is not right to write to the Teachers encouraging them to think about doing something about the possibility that the schools might close. How ridiculous that an MSP cannot suggest to Headteachers that they might want to consider phoning me, if they have nothing better to do. The Director is making it sound like I am trying to stir them into opposing the Council’s action, and suggesting that they ignore both the unions and the consultative programme.

How ridiculous! I know nothing about the consultation process, and I don’t see why the unions should have the monopoly on representing staff. In the new Scotland there is no need for unions, as Mr Alex will look after the workers, and make sure that people like the Director don’t act so badly towards their staff.

I mean, it’s not like I’m suggesting armed insurrection, strike action or even a petition. Or even a meeting with the department. There is no need for any such vigorous action when there is the possibility of a meeting that might substitute for action.

I will instruct Kenny to write another letter, reminding the Director that I am the MSP, and he is a lowly public employee, answerable to taxpayers like me.

Schools closure

The repercussions of the visit of Miss Fiona to the schools in the Western Isles continue!

It serves the Comhairle right after their insulting behaviour to Miss Fiona and I. Mr MacLeod – who claims to be the Director of Education – and Mrs Munro – who claims to be the Chair – was terribly rude to Miss Fiona by sitting outside the school classrooms and the staff rooms as she toured the schools. Why should they expect to be invited into schools, when there was barely enough room for Miss Fiona, her PA, her assistant, me, two photographers and assorted other civil servants? Although Miss Fiona told them to sit outside she didn’t mean for them to be so rude as to tell the media, their colleagues and the Comhairle that weren’t welcome.

I am just about convinced that the closures of the schools is probably a bad idea, mostly, but certainly telling the press about it was a big mistake by the Comhairle. I am going to campaign, moderately vigorously, for the parents and teachers to meet and consider being unhappy that the Council was following Government policy in improving schooling and saving money.

I am writing to the Headteachers to get them to mobilise the parents to oppose the cuts, and I have asked them to phone me if they are sufficiently outraged, and we can see if I can arrange a meeting at some point to discuss the matter further.

That will show the Council who is the King of the Jungle!

Miss Fiona sends a message that I must in no circumstances suggest that the Council should get more money for any reason, and Mr Bruce phones to remind me nicely that I must do as told.

How I laugh into my cocoa at the suggestion that I might do something to stir up the public.

Being in Government

Back to the heady business of Government this week, after a mere eight weeks holiday.

I feel so proud and important to be such a tiny little cog in the important machinery of Mr Alex’s Government, and I am happy to do as instructed to ensure the smooth running of the Parliament.

I am summoned to meet Mr Bruce, who apparently is Chief Whipper, and he reminds me of that Mr Alex and him are watching my every move. I feel to honoured to have both these important men taking care of me at every step of the way, that the least I can do is promised – cross my heart, and hope to die – that I will be pleased to do exactly as they tell me.

I ask Kenny later what a Chief Whipper does. He tells me that Mr Angus has more experience in that field than he does, but he gave me a phone number for Miss Fifi for the next time I am in London.

Postcard from North Rona

After six weeks' holiday from my four weeks in the Parliament I am exhausted and need a break. After all I have spent nearly a fortnight in the Islands and that is more than one could reasonably ask of an incomer. I need to get away from journalists who too often ask me difficult questions without also giving me the answer.

In order to show my concern about these outsiders from Edinburgh affecting the Guga hunt, I decided to book myself a trip to oversee the hunt and ensure that Gaelic was spoken throughout the process.

I got Kenny to make the travel arrangements and he gave me a big wink as he handed me the tickets, saying "I've made special arrangements for you". After two flights and a mere six hours, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Rhona was a beautiful city with old buildings, narrow cobbled streets and an old Gaelic culture. As I sat in a pavement cafe, waiting for the boat from Ness to reach the main port in North Rona, known locally as Riga, I took stock of my daring and earth shaking stance against those who would undermine the Gaelic culture into which I wasn't born.

After a couple of hours, the boat hadn't arrived, so I checked into the hotel that Kenny had arranged for me. The lovely hotel was called "Madame Olenska's Chicken Ranch" and featured lots of low energy red bulbs beneath which some under-dressed and local Islanders tried to converse to me in their primitive Gaelic. Luckily, Kenny had booked me on the special guest's package which involved a visit to cellar bars on a half hourly basis, followed by a visit to a Tigh Ceilidh in which some of our new residents to the Islands entertained us. I did not know that the Poles were such good dancers and wore such skimpy costumes.

Kenny has apparently arranged some extras with my Parliamentary allowance and the post-it note said "You have to get near a woman at least once" but I was not really in the mood for a full body massage as I was deeply concerned at the absence of Gaelic broadcasting on the local TV station.

After a week the boat with the Guga hunters has still not arrived, and I telephoned Kenny for an update, and he told me to do what Mr Angus would do in these circumstances with a freebie pass to the assorted fleshpots of Orkney. I laughed and promised to keep my jacket on the entire time, not really understanding what he meant.

As the boat has not arrived, I am heading home to Edinburgh where I will write a letter about people from the mainland telling people in the Western Isles how to act.

Preserve a guga

The wild vegetarians of Edinburgh have tried to stop the Guga hunt in Ness.

Do they not realise that the mad Morrisons of Ness have hunted Guga since time immemorial, and that the interference of yet another lunatic from Edinburgh pretending to know what is best for the islands and oozing mock empathy will do nothing but alienate the community.

I have therefore pledged my support to those who want to strangle the young chicks with their bare hands, despite the attacks from the parent birds, and then resell the pickled carcasses for £40,000 as I believe this is a necessary food supply for the islands. Given that the Co-op has run out of kangaroo steaks, ravens tongues, and savoury penguin penises that form the staple of the diet in Ness.

However, to demonstrate my dynamic thrusting self, I have today written to the head gannet on North Rona asking whether he wishes me to write to the Minister, in Gaelic, on his behalf. Kenny has promised to ensure that the letter is delivered by the fishermen, as he described it "With maximum prejudice". I look forward to the reply, and Kenny reassures me that the response will be clear and "very tasty".

The happiest days of my life...

Today Ms Fiona took me took carry her bags around some schools in Lewis. Ms Fiona is a lovely lady, with a placid temperament, and the ability to melt stones at 50 paces with just one glance.

Kenny said that "Ms Fiona" sounds like the kind of lady Mr Angus has spent too much time with, and Mrs Angus hasn't found out about yet. I don't understand what he means, so he does a spanking motion to help me understand, which I don't.

Going back to the schools reminded me of my fantastic time in Ashkirk Primary School, which was actually located 10 miles away from Ashkirk, and to which I was sent as a boarder from an early age (6 months). My teacher was the fantastic Mrs Donaldina Goatstrangler (nee Morrison), who had learned her teaching skills in a lunatic asylum in Gdansk (as she regularly told me after a few bottles of Whyte and MacKay, formerly called Danzig; renamed Jif during the Indo-Polish hostilities of the 1640's; and, later conquered by the Aztecs in the 1870's and renamed Quezequazazocoatal. According to Matron [Mrs Goatstrangler] as she gave me my daily bedbath, the Aztecs bequeathed the love of the letter "z" and frequent human sacrifices to the Poles, which is why I should never speak to anyone with a "z" in their name. See my previous post on Stephen the former MSP.)

Mrs Goatstrangler was the sole teacher, nurse, matron, head teacher, administrator, secretary, bed warmer and she instilled in me my love of the Gaelic language. Miss Morrison, as she became known, used to gustily sing Eilean A'Cheo when happy, lonely, lovelorn or drunk. Although it was difficult to tell which of the four moods she was in, and I used to think that they were one and the same. It took fewer than ten beatings before I could sing it fluently, and at that time I resolved that no child would be left behind in my campaign to reintroduce Gaelic to all schools in Scotland. My phrase was later stolen by Mr Bush, who I understand reprehensibly speaks NO Gaelic.

The fear of the headmistress came back to me today when visiting each school, Ms Fiona told Mrs Munro and Mr MacLeod to sit outside the staff room whilst she went to speak to the children and the teachers and I was allowed to carry her bag into the room. I was so glad that I no longer faced the weekly punishment for misbehaviour that Miss Morrison used to inflict on my thin skull with the hereditary family peat iron, although I am none the worse for it.

Mrs Munro and Mr MacLeod have something to do with the Council, I am told, and when Ms Fiona screamed at them that they shouldn't have talked about 'cuts' when she had an important photocall to arrange, I could hear Mrs Munro's bun rattle as her head shook.

They had the temerity to ask to discuss educational issues! On a photo opportunity!! Ms Fiona put them right, and I added, "You should know better. I'm going to tell the press that your talk of cuts might be not right, and may affect my standing in the public view, so I will be writing to the Minister (Ms Fiona) to suggest that it might be better to think about considering to do something. After all, I went to a single teacher school, and look at how it made me the decisive, incisive person I am today."

Mrs Munro and Mr MacLeod cringed at my invective.

I'm glad that I have nothing to do with that Council and I want nothing to do with them taking any decisions, when I have to sort out their mistakes.

Referenda

That's the correct name for more than one, and not 'referendums' as some boring pedants would have it.

My former, former, former, employer Mike Russell has told me that he will not permit a referendum on the windfarms as it will set a precedent elsewhere. I have tried to persuade him he is wrong, using my now trusty phrase to "battle hard" for election promises to be adhered to, but he is not listening to me yet.

I know that democracy is vitally important, and that the democratically expressed will of the people is the most single important thing, and one we must defend to the hilt. That is why the democratically expressed will of the Scottish people to elect representatives for the magnificent four year plan for the Great Peoples March to Independence is so important.

This was no better demonstrated that the brilliant decision by Steven Tymkewycz Stephen Timkezwzyzcz Stevaan Tzizyzmzkzezwzyzcz Ztzezfzazn Tymkewycz the East European MSP to stand down after I demanded he speak to me in Gaelic. As he said himself in his incisive resignation email, "I'd rather sit on Edinburgh Council, look after my 15 flats, and do something useful, than be a useless piece of lobotomised lobby fodder."

To ensure the triumph of democracy, I have decided to once again ignore Comhairle nan Eilean Siar and all the planning decisions that they have taken and might take, and instead I will instigate a grass roots campaign to hold referenda across all the Community Council areas in Lewis. I'm going to write to them all, when they are formed after the elections, assuming they are actually formed, and get them considering whether to come on-board with my brilliant campaign.

Kenny is typing my first letter to them, asking them for suggestions for the questions and opinions they might want me to hold were there to be a demand from me to hold a referendum on the planning applications, given that the Executive won't hold to my promises. I have made it clear to them that they can hold a referendum at their own cost, instead of undertaking vital community developments, but that until I agree the questions will produce the answer I want, or even if there are to be questions, I will not allow them to squander their time and money on this matter.

This will show the Labour Party what leadership really is, and that I do know how to spend other people's money just as well as they do, and I know they will be cringing in their houses tonight when they hear of my brilliant new idea.

The letter needs some editing, as Kenny's drafts always do, and I am sure that I will find a better heading than "Dumb and dumber".

What I did on my holidays

Donnie MacInnes at the Stornoway Gazette suggested to me to write an article about my holidays in the Western Isles for the benefit of the readers, so that they could find out who I was.

His wife, Cathy, kindly passed on the message at the Branch meeting, over which she presides as Chairperson, and advised me to make it as controversial as I possibly could as Donnie would ensure that it was printed unedited. I am only to eager to oblige the Gazette, which is showing its true independence and balanced stance by inviting all the constituency MSPs for the Western Isles to contribute on an equal footing. I bet none of the others have had as exciting a holiday as I did!

It was very nice to see some islands that I have never seen before, having had to travel in the boot of Mr Angus' car on previous occasions and only being able to see the clouds in the sky. This time I travelled first class at the public expense and stayed in some Bed & Breakfast establishments and even caught the ferry by myself.

It was very exciting to be recognised by one person in Uist, and even more exciting to find out that he was an SNP Councillor. I rushed back to the Bed & Breakfast for a refreshing cup of tea and phoned Kenny to change my travel arrangements in the hope that another person would recognise me here.

In order to introduce myself to the public, I decided to wait at the ferry terminals and bus stops and approach anyone standing around, addressing them in Gaelic. In answer to the usual response of "What the f...", I was in a position to recite the entire SNP manifesto, verbatim, which they seemed to enjoy. They certainly were unable to move much after the first five minutes.

I listed, in gripping detail, the pledges for transport, the Gaelic language, speeding, sheep movements, drinking whilst in charge of a peat iron, economic policy and espeically the inter-relationship between the ECB, Westminster and an independent Scotland (although I did get a bit confused here with most of the terminology), Gaelic Broadcasting, Gaelic signposts, defence policy, the proposed compulsory bilingual services for the broadcasting of Big Brother live on E4, how the SNP would demand the repatriation of the English mink, Gaelic salmon farming and why Mr Alex was to be the next first King of Scotland.

Tired after that, I retired to the Bed & Breakfast, from which the owners seem to have gone on holiday until after I leave, and lay down in my full-body Noddy suit to sleep before the stress of the next day.

Mr Angus says he can now employ someone on my behalf in Edinburgh, and having carefully considered the short leet he gave to me, I have selected the single name he suggested. I am sure they are very good, and will do exactly as he tells them. It's good to see job creation in Edinburgh, as there are so many unemployable people that I mix with everyday in the Parliament.

Ferry fares

Mr John came to Stornoway today, which was very exciting for me and Mr Angus, as it proves to the doubters that we do actually visit Stornoway occasionally. After under an hour, we managed to find the SNP Office, with only some help from the map I keep in my pocket.

Kenny had issued the press release to everybody except the Labour Chair of Transport, Mr Manfield, who is dangerous as he thinks for himself. Mr Alex keeps promising Mr Angus that he will ensure that Mr Manfield has an implant, soon, but I fear Mr Manfield is beyond help.

Mr John had a stunning announcement (which I know to spell, it was Kenny that got it wrong, as usual) that he would be asking for a survey for someone to look at whether cutting ferry fares would be a good idea. If it proves not too expensive then Mr John might think about considering whether to do anything about the survey, and promises that he will then call for a report into the survey.

There! That will show the Labour Party that we are dynamic and forward thinking, and their claims of delay and prevarication are nothing short of scandalous.

Mr Angus said I read his press release very well, and it was very nice of me to praise him so highly. I asked Kenny for details of the campaign for lower fares Mr Angus has been in the forefront of for the past two years. He advised me that the details were so confidential that they were never released to anyone, and that if he told me he would have to kill me.

"When would I like the papers?", he asked, sharpening the office paper knife to allow him to cut the ream of paper in half with one nonchalant movement of his wrist.

Mr John wanted to go and see the devil tower manufacturing facility at Arnish. I placed myself into a trance to avoid contamination by the nacelles, and thankfully no-one noticed the difference.

To celebrate the success of today, I have adjourned for a celebratory drink. A large cocoa and my knitted dressing gown make this evening special.

New office

Mr Angus has very thoughtfully allowed me to use his office on Bayhead to advertise that I exist.

For a special rate he has permitted me to attach a single piece of A4 to the window for a short while on the grounds that "I wouldn't want anyone to think I've got anything to do with you."

Kenny promised to answer all the phone calls with the reassuring promise that if they were "Important or interesting" he would ask Mr Angus to deal with them before passing them to me.

He has obviously been doing his job very well, as not one single important matter has come my way yet!

Harry Potter

I had just finished colouring in my Thunderbirds book, without going beyond the lines, when I suddenly realised that I had nothing in the house to read.

I had read An Gruffalò, twice in the original Gaelic, and most of the rest of Acair's output was looking well worn and sorry for itself, when I heard about a new Harry Potter book being printed.

I know, I'll write to the publishers and ask them to publish me a copy in Gaelic so that I can understand what is going on. Well, I would if they sent me a summary of previous books, so I would know who was who.

Kenny issued a press release on my behalf pointing out that the publishers were acting like fascists to the public in the Western Isles by creating an pseudo-apartheid state by not issuing "Tha Harrie Potter agam". I had to reprimand him severely for getting my name wrong, and I mumbled "I am not Draco Allan" at him, to force the correction.

He applauded my press release saying "Angus Peter Campbell will have your nuts for supporting the local writers." Rhona growled pleasantly at him for this good advice.

Wind farms

A rude journalist phones me to ask about the Public Inquiry at Eishken.

How dare he know about this, when Mr Alex and Mr Angus have told me nothing about this trivial matter.

I tell him that I know nothing and if it was at all important then Mr Alex or Mr Angus would have told me what to think and say rather than, as he appallingly suggested, leaving me in the dark looking stupid and ill-informed. That told him.

Wind farms as an idea are stupid, as they will destroy the Gaelic culture and result in depopulation of the islands, as they told me at the last MWT meeting. I was deeply impressed by the number of pensioners who had moved here from the South of England and wanted to preserve Gaelic, as long as they didn't have to speak it, or hear it spoken. The told me that their new houses would depreciate in value dramatically as tourists were thrown into the turbines by Councillors as part of a satanic ritual.

I was deeply impressed by their sincerity and posh accents, having been a tourist here until -- well I still am!

Drove back to the rented house, slowly and carefully, pondering the fate of "That little bustard" that they kept talking about.

Dangerous driving

I should apologise to all my constituents for my actions. I really hope they never find out about my dangerous and criminal activities.

I was so excited about reporting to the Branch that I had spoken to Mr Alex that I lost all concentration on the road and the car accelerated to almost 30MPH on the straight stretch of road between Tong and Newmarket. Luckily there is no speed limit there, or I could have lost my licence or possibly be the victim of a major motorway pile-up or been the target of the armed traffic vigilantes that Kenny tells me roam that area.

I knew that there were speed humps coming up, so I slowed down to just over 10MPH with barely a mile to spare, and kept at that speed despite the horns of the Ambulance behind tempting me to break the laws. No siree.

I was so mortified and embarrassed when I reached the SNP office, that I hope no-one could tell by my face that I was nearly a major criminal.

A question

Yesterday Mr Alex spoke to me, and allowed me to ask him a question in the Parliament. His secretary was very helpful in typing it our for me and removing the big words that Mr Alex had used to replace them with words I could simultaneously translate into Gaelic and then re-translate before I spoke.

The clever thought process slowed my speaking slightly, but it confused the enemy other parties who attempted to distract Mr Alex by shouting "Who's the imbecile?"

He answered my question very cleverly and carefully using all the big words his secretary had written at the bottom of the page after my question. I was very impressed and gave him a standing ovation.

Afterwards he personally thanked me for such a clever and incisive contribution, and in a witty response to the enemy Labour Party he muttered "Who's the imbecile?" to the Whips.

A special parcel

Collected Recorded Delivery package. It a special delivery from Mr Alex!!!!

After a lie down, given the excitement, I open the package to find the special chip that I must implant under my skin to help me in the Parliament. Apparently I mustn’t tell anyone, and I have a special pass to explain that I have an artificial hip and that is why the metal detectors are set off.

According to the instructions, it will glow green when I have to applaud Mr Alex, bright red when I must phone for instructions, and delivers 2000 volts straight to the nervous system in the event of any signs of dissent. A quick look in the dictionary to check the meaning of 'dissent' assures me I have nothing to worry about.

Mr Angus phones to tell me that after a few weeks I will hear voices telling me what to say and how to vote, but not to worry as he will make sure it sounds like his voice. How comforting and thoughtful of him.

More excitement

Back from Edinburgh for the first weekend in Lewis, after only four weeks away, and into the temporary rented accommodation. Very excitedly open all the letters addressed to Allan Allen MSP.

Invites to judge the bonnie Guga contest in Ness, an invitation to discuss funding constraints with the Achmore Pier committee, and a cut price subscription offer to the People’s Friend, and one recorded delivery slip. Not bad for four weeks mail, and resolve to write to the Minister about the lack of nursery provision for baby Guga in Ness and the Transport Minister about the lack of RoRo facilites at Achmore. When I find out who the Ministers are. Note to self, must ask someone to ask someone who knows Mr Alex to get me the list of Ministers.

More excitement

Mr Angus calls to tell me to go to Edinburgh.

I reach the office in Stornoway where he instructs me that from now on I will obey “Mr Alex”, except where Mr Angus says otherwise. This is so exciting, having two people to tell me what to do and think.

Kenny, the Press officer, mutters ”Angus is so far up Alex, that it doesn’t matter”, but before I can quiz him further for an explanation, Rhona hits him with a poster tube and he falls silent. On the floor.

Today I go on a plane to Edinburgh. I am getting moist around the gusset with the excitement.

Exciting news

Mr MacNeil phoned me tonight to tell me I might have been ‘elected’ as a MSP. I thought he was phoning to sack me, so I was very relieved.

I got out of my Power Ranger pyjamas, dressed and into the car and drove to Stornoway.

Mr MacNeil was right – as always, he is so clever and wise – and tells me what to say, as Albert Morrison gracefully selects me to replace him.

Mr MacNeil tells me that I am a success, and as a mark of this I no longer have to call him “Mr MacNeil”, but instead I am allowed to call him “Mr Angus”. I am so pleased that my status has gone up so rapidly. I have another cup of Horlicks to celebrate and go to bed.