Vote SNP - we know where you live

Alasdair Allan

This is a private journal about all the exciting things that have happened to me since I stood as MSP for Gordon the Western Isles. I am dedicated to the people of Gordon the Western Isles, and there is nowhere else I would rather represent. I even intend to live there soon.

I am not to be mistaken for for that imposter who pretends to be an MSP.

I really like this dynamic and exciting blog layout, which suits me perfectly.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

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

I've read my wise words this many times

* No, not really. If you haven't worked out that this is a satirical exercise, then please get a life. And find one for Alasdair.