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, December 13, 2008


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

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.