Election Pledge 3

I fully support the IT sector in the Western Isles and I have ensured that the SNP have delivered cheap and perfect broadband connections throughout the islands.

At a recent photo-op I was able to demonstrate the 17 megahertz broadband link downloading a 4mw file in barely 2 minutes.

I have championed the SNP policy got IT and I am proud to launch the new technologies from the islands. After intensive research by HIE, I can announce that over 5,000 jobs will be created in Lewis with the setting up of the new high tech cutting edge business "Tha JavaScript Agam". Thanks to a modest Government grant of £5m we have already delivered a cutting edge programme that says "Madainn vath" when you open your computer and thanks to my intensive lobbying of ministers additional funding will be made available to translate this into Scots, *nglish and braille.

As part of my commitment, I have already bought the *app* for my Government Blackberry allowing me to translate the simple morning greeting into two languages with the promise of another four phrases in Welsh, Hindi and Tagalog to follow within the next five years.

Election pledge 2

I promise to live in the Western Isles, if allowed to by Mr Alex.

Election pledge 1

If re-elected I promise to work tirelessly to expand the range of courses provided by the University of the Higlands and Islands.

A key policy is the early introduction of the following opportunities identified by the SNP Government as needed by the communities:

• Navigation for guide dogs for deaf/blind fishermen: this course is open to collies and labradors who wish to expand their nautical map reading skills. Simultaneous translation into Gaelic will be available.
• Angling for beginners Level 1(Mangersta campus): how to buy a rod in Sportsworld. This will be available on YouTube as a MG Alba podcast. With English subtitles.
• Subsidy form completion (HNC advanced): mathematical formulae of computing the surface area of an irregular three dimensional object (your croft) including 3D polynomial Mandelbrot curves, and the subsidy level they attract. This will be compulsory for all crofters from 2012. Closed captioned in Polish.

Election campaign

With the election campaign well underway, Mr Angus is busy issuing press releases about everything just to help my re-election campaign.

With my team selected, I am pleased to see that we have the advantage of age and experience over Labour.  They can't possibly match our team composed exclusively of experienced pensioners, which gives us a 20 year advantage over our opponents.  I have already arranged the bulk order of peppermints for the meetings, and Kenny has left the biscuit box open overnight so no-one breaks their teeth on hard biscuits.

We have worked hard and fast on a campaign slogan.  We have rejected:

• Doing as he is told for YOUR benefit
• We know where you live and how you vote
• They're b*stards, those English
• Have you seen the Labour candidate?

We finally settled on the slogan above, after serious brainstorming, a democratic vote and finally a direct instruction from HQ.

The team are fantastic, and I am following their every instruction on how to win.  Which is why I am now sitting at home, with instructions not to go anywhere or speak to anyone without at least three committee members accompanying me.

I am drinking a small glass of special independence milk - "From radical cows" - in my Cpt Pugwash pyjamas when Mrs Margaret phones to say that the good news is that Mr Angus will be leading the campaign, and that my primary responsibility is to draft the policy statements on seaweed farming, lobster wrestling and subsea windfarms in the Mingulay SPA. 

Good news!  My talents have been recognised and it will take me the best part of the next 10 weeks to write all of this, just in time to congratulate Mr Angus on my re-election.

To celebrate, I take the box set of Glee and a box of tissues into the bedroom to watch until the early hours (10pm).

School closures

I have pledged my complete support to the campaigns to keep open Carloway School from the vicious and indefensible cuts by the Council.

With the nasty Westminster Government making deep cuts in the budget of the saintly and prudent Scottish Government, which are being passed on to Councils, now is not the Comhairle to make cuts in schools which might affect my re-election chances.

I am not here to tell the Comhairle how or where to make the cuts, but clearly it would be wrong to close any schools or cut and social service provision or make anyone redundant, or cut any services, or raise any taxes, or make any representations to Government about the cuts that might suggest in anyway that the necessary de-increases in Council budgets that Mr John will announce this week are in any way the fault of anyone other that all other political parties.

I have today written to the Education Minister asking some serious questions: -

Dear Mr Mike

You may remember me, as I was your employee for four years, and worked for you when I wasn't on SNP business.  I'm the one who sits three rows behind you applauding constantly.

Can you please confirm that the closure of Carloway school is all the fault of Comhairle nan Eilean Siar, and that you have provided all the funding necessary for a reasonable local authority, without any other self-inflicted budget pressures such as inflation and a Government approved new schools programme to fund would have been able to keep this school open, even with your predecessors approval to close it.

Can you also confirm that you will carefully consider the demands of the committee to review the decision before deciding to approve it, as you have previously indicated.  And that it is nothing to do with me or you.

I am, sir, you loyal and faithful apprentice

Dr A Allan MSP (seat number 47)

Hopefully this will kick it into the long grass until after the election!

Kenny has already written my letter of support for Lionel, where he works in the Sports Centre and where he receives special classes; and he has shredded Annie MacDonald's letter about Balallan to make it utterly deniable.

Since leaving the Gazette, Donnie MacInnes has taken up a career in journalism and he has written the official history of how the SNP successfully fought off the attempts by the Labour-run Council to close all the schools in the Western Isles, and how I single-handledly persuaded the Government to keep the five new schools open.

At least Mr Angus will have a job to go to in Barra when Mrs Jane finds out what else he has been up to.

Taking Independence forward

I am delighted that Mr Alex has decided that the best way to take forward the debate on Independence for Scotland is by postponing the debate until much later, and not debating it.

And who am I to disagree, as Mr Alex said to me at the special meeting last Sunday of MSPs where we were told our decision.

At the meeting Mr Alex told us that we had discussed the matter in some detail, and we were no to unanimously vote in favour of the proposal.  I turned over my ballot paper, to see that it had been very helpfully completed on my behalf.

I completely agree with Mr Alex on everything	X
I, Albert Allan, being of sound mind, hereby tender my resignation from the SNP

As the votes were being counted, Mr Alex was able to announce that he had 100% support and we were all issued with our press release pack to welcome the decision that we had just made.

With electoral success guaranteed at the next elections, according to Mr Alex and the private SNP polls showing us with close to 75% support at the next elections, the future looks rosy, and only those imbeciles who vote for other parties can stop us now, as we move forward with the policy that dare not speak its name!

Scottish Health care

Once again the Scottish Health Care system is the envy and talk of the world, with our ability to produce miraculous cures and help the dying to live again.

It is only through the vast increase in expenditure by the SNP Government that the Health Service is able to produce such miracles, by revoking the wasteful sums being spent by Labour over the previous millenia and directing money towards essential services.  We have dramatically reduced waste on such luxuries as guards, the timely delivery of prisoners to court and pre-signed voting papers and redirected it into wall to wall Xboxes, therapeutic massages, self defence classes and a selection of herbal teas with Gaelic labels.

I have written to the Minister congratulating him for his action, and to the Justice Secretary thanking him for showing the rest of the world just what they have to do to keep up with Scotland.

I refer, of course, to the two Liberton men who were released on compassionate grounds by Mr Kenny just a year ago - Ali Bassett and Ali McGraw.

With both men facing an imminent death due to their continued torture and mistreatment in a secret Labour prison the SNP were able to have them released into the care of the NHS Scotland, which is now properly funded by the SNP.  Such was the sheer munificence and majesty of Mr Kenny's decision that the two immediately went into spontaneous remission, and the NHS were able to subcontract the medical care to the Liberian NHS, under the tender loving care of Dr Colonel Mohammed McGaffney.  The Liberia Government having freely provided the doctors to assess the degree of fatalness of the health problems faced by both men.  The objectivity of their assessment was ensured by Mr Kenny taking advice from Dr BP Backhander who flew in specially for the day to meet the spin doctors.

We must never forget the seriousness of the offences that these men committed, having been duly convicted by a jury of their peers in a Judge-only Court of some of the most serious paper-cuts and chinese burns ever inflicted on 270 people by someone who was not in the room or even the correct country at any time that might suggest their guilt.

With both men now under the watchful eye of James MacGlumpeter of Lanarkshire Social Work dept, who monitors their every movement by being told what is happening by Dr McGaffney.

Their spectacular remission is testament to the fantastic treatment they have received from the NHS (now properly funded by the SNP) and the pathetic Labour party would have left them to die in prison.

Mr Kenny has told us that they are next to Death's Door, which is a night club in Tripoli, beside the Green Revolution their 7-star hotel where they live a life of constant pain, shopping and champagne, paid for by the NHS in Scotland.

Only the lowest of the low would suggest that we have betrayed the victims, whilst in reality we have prolonged their lives at the expense of intentional relationships, and that is a price I believe that we are happy to pay, or so Mr Alex tells me.
their Government

Miss Nicola

I had that dream again about Miss Nicola, only she was wearing a wedding dress over the leather bodice and thigh-high boots.

I know that Mr Angus has the same dream, as he has graphically told Kenny, but his dream ends in a way that Mrs Jane wouldn't like very much.

As usual, I dreamt that she beat me with my Blackberry and a bound copy of the Parliamentary Report, until I woke with a sudden jolt, my Spongebob romper suit, my vest and my socks soaked through with sweat. It was just as well that I had kept the waterproof sheet on the bed.

Christmas greetings to my humble voters

Once again Mr Alex has ensured a white Christmas for everyone in Scotland, which is a 25% increase on the previous Labour administration and despite unjustified budget cuts of over a £100,000,000 per Scottish household imposed by the failing Labour administration.

This season always makes me think of my favourite Christmas stories and how the passing year can best be described in those terms.

Mr Alex is - of course - Father Christmas - dispensing gifts to everyone in Scotland and bringing joy and glad throughout the land.

The elves who toil away all year with no recognition, and do exactly as they are told without question, are of course my colleagues in the SNP Parliamentary group.

The reindeer - Dancer, Prancer, Chancer, Vixen, Saxon, Donald and Blitzed - are the CalMac ferries bringing Santa across the seas using the RET scheme to lower the overall cost to the hauliers, to allow them to extend their houses and buy a larger and more expensive holiday home.

The bunch of mistletoe is represented by Mr Angus (enough said!)

For myself, I see the good work I modestly do and the great publicity provided to me by my independent press officer at the Stornoway Gazette, Donnie MacInnes. I know I bring happiness everywhere I go, as the Gazette reports accurately alongside the photograph captioned "Opening a door in Garynahine" or "Welcoming the Scottish Government grant of £250 for Mingulay Golf Course" or "Carrying the bags for the Minister on their visit" or "Launching the campaign for a winter fuel allowance for sheep" or "Making the speech at the SNP St Andrews Night (cancelled)".

I know that I sprinkle happiness across the constituency whenever I make a visit to any group or to any location in the Western Isles, so that I hope that when my constituents think of me they see me in that light, sprinkling my magic everywhere, and think of me as the fairy on the top of the tree.

Allowed to blog again!

Mr Mike phones to tell me that the party ban on blogging has been lifted, but only if I destroy all the old records of all our telephone calls, emails, letters, texts, Christmas cards and postcards. I am able to tell Mr Mike that I had long ago destroyed all the details of 'Operation Smear' which never happened.

I have brunt all the records of the BlackOp during the annual WickerSheep festival in Ness and then cast the ashes into Broadbay during the annual beach clean.

Mr Alex had already send out instructions that all members were to co-operate fully with any investigation into rude messages on the internet, and as part of that process we were to scrub all the hard disks on all out computers, and bring any printed material in for scanning in the new cross-cut scanner and shredder that HQ have bought.

I took the news back to the office, where Rhona was opening the brand new computer equipment with clean hard disks and secure communications using the innovative Scottish communications software - Salmondnet - to keep track of what we are all doing.

As part of the security arrangements, Kenny was using the office scissors to cut the old mouse cable into 100 pieces, and was sitting in a large pile of shattered hard disks, zip drives and 1mm square diced printouts from the filing cabinet.

Kenny explained in words of four letters how the new rules meant that he had been forced to stop blogging and close down his various blogs, and not use the Parliamentary computers for party political purposes.

Kenny is no longer allowed to post anonymously to various sites as "Non-aligned_Scot", "freeThinker", "GordonBrownIsALiar", "FergussonMassey", "NuLabour_NuLies", "BrianWilsonsBum", "ABMacneil" and "LabourAreDead".

He showed me the blogs as he set about closing them down, as I needed to certify to the independent Scottish Parliamentary authorities i.e. Mr Alex, that no staff working for me had ever, ever, ever, run any of the sites that were now being closed.

"The Salmond runs free" was his first ever blog and was a peon of praise to Mr Alex, with detailed articles averaging 10,000 words thoroughly analysing what a good job Mr Alex was doing, and posted in various alter-egos of Kenny. Average hits exceeded 2 a day.

"Tractors for work and pleasure" was a detailed assessment of the merits of the 35x compared to the 188 model and with a gallery of over 10,000 photos of the different bonnet badges, 6 cylinder oil filters and refurbished clutch parts. Blog membership over 6,000, some of whom have actually spoken to a woman.

I wasn't allowed to see "Playsheep", as it was 'under construction'.

The most urgent to be removed was his attack blog "Lunch with Politicians" in which the readers suggested which type of sandwich would suit each politician. The lead story was about how Kenny the author thought that Alasdair Darling MP deserves a nice fresh ciabatta with fresh lettuce, tomato, shredded guga and mutton, and doused with castrol gtx which should be rammed down his throat until he choked on his own deficit. I didn't quite manage to read the story about another Scottish MP and a toblerone baguette. Page hits c.1,000 per week all from the Scottish Parliament web server.

I am able to tell Mr Alex that this is another job well done, and to avoid any tell tale evidence ever being found I have swallowed the letter confirming the situation and 24 imodium, and I will personally deliver the news after I return to civilisation in Edinburgh and the laxatives take effect.

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