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, May 3, 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

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.