You proper hate the SNP don't you?
ETA: Here's a nice wee piece DeeTillEhDeh, which I think answers your point nicely. It's from your friends at Weegingerdug:
The dug you can trust
It’s another great debate next Monday, the totes unbiased and completely neutral Beeb version whoo-hoo. But we can all save ourselves the bother – Alistair is going to bang on about the currency and how there’s no plan B but if there was it would be utter rubbish as well, as would plans C through to Z. No doubt while doing the pointy finger thing. And the UK media will write it all up as another glorious victory for the logical clearmindedness of Brittania over the woolly thinking of sheepish separatists. And they’ll be doing the pointy finger thing too, only in print.
The only other place you see pointy fingers with such regularity is in religious fundamentalist propaganda videos, or if you’re 15 just after your dad has discovered some cans of beer have gone missing from the fridge. I just thought that should be pointed out. In Alistair’s eyes Scotland’s the naughty wean that’s taking the beer out of Westminster’s fridge and threatens his subsidised swally in a Commons bar. And it’s all the fault of that evil Al-Iqsammin who didn’t do the pointy finger thing at all, even though he’s got a fundamentalist name. Because that’s how evil he is. Leading us astray like that. That’s the great achievement of 307 years of union, it’s turned one of Europe’s most ancient nations into a basket case of recalcitrant children who can’t be trusted with the TV remote control. Scotland the infantilised nation, makes you so proud doesn’t it. It brings a tear to our eyes as we weep with despair.
Anyway, that will be your Scottish independence killed stone dead again. Just like it was last week and the week before. It’s been killed off more often than Christopher Lee in a Hammer Horror fillum. But then along comes a wee round of opinion polls and there’s your Yes support clawed its way out of the grave and standing there with a knowing smirk on its face, in its best clothes without a crease or a smudge of dirt on them. I never understood how vampires could do that, the clothes thing, the smirk I’ve got off pat. We should ask Michael Forsyth, he ought to know.
The theme song for this month is the repeat chorus of George Osborne’s sermon on the pound, which earlier this year first leapt into the hit parade of blows to Alicsammin like the annoying Birdie Song in an episode of Top of the Tops. Howzabout that then. It was even accompanied by its own special dance moves, consisting of sticking two fingers up to the people of Scotland and telling us to f**k off or submit to Osborne’s abuse. We have nothing, we’re owed nothing, we’re entitled to nothing. Independence was killed off then too, and the UK media was full of the crows of the Noes. But it didn’t work then and it isn’t working now.
The only solid track record Westminster possesses is a scratched 45 rpm that sticks on lies. They lied to Scotland in 1979, when they told us that the oil would have run out by the 1980s. They refused to allow the development of the oil fields in the Firth of Clyde and off the west coast of Lewis because it might interfere with their war toys. They lied in 1997 when we were promised a Parliament with full tax raising powers and we got limited powers over income tax that were so hedged about with caveats that they’re unusable. They’re doing it again now, warning of the volatility of oil and how it’s a declining resource while the internet buzzes with rumours of major oil discoveries.
It’s bad enough that our elected representatives lie to us, but what sticks in the craw is that they believe they have the right to lie to us. They can only do that because there’s nothing we can do to prevent them, nothing we can do to hold them to account. The Tories can lie because they don’t need our votes. Labour can lie because they take us for granted. And the Lib Dems just lie because they’re fantasists who are easily seduced by the promise of a ministerial Mondeo. And if we do manage to vote one of them out of power, they just go to the Lords while the grasping careerist circus spins merrily on. Vote No, vote to be lied to. Vote No, vote to say you’re fine with being treated like a small child.
Alistair Darling’s currency threat relies on convincing the electorate of Scotland that Alicsammin is a liar who can’t be trusted. And since Alicsammin is the Marmite of Scottish politics, they’re halfway there. Unfortunately for Alistair the electorate of Scotland doesn’t trust him and his pals either, and unlike Holyrood elections there is nothing we can do to get rid of Westminster’s untrustworthy basterts. We’re lumbered with the party that people vote for south of the border, and the political rejects just get rewarded with a seat in the Lords like Michael Forsythula, the Right Count of Stirling.
Cynical Scottish voters are faced with a choice. You can choose untrustworthy basterts that you can’t do anything about, the ones who have a track record of lies, deception, disappointment and crushed hopes, the ones who don’t have to take your views into account they’re only interested in the views of the banks, of big business, of the rich and powerful. That would be Alistair and his pals. Or you can choose untrustworthy basterts who do have to take your views into account or suffer a boot up the arse – that would be the MSPs at Holyrood. If they lie to you, you can get rid of them and they don’t get a nice wee seat in the Lords as a booby prize.
In the end it all boils down to trust. The No campaign wants us to surrender our trust and place it in the hands of politicians who are not answerable to us, not accountable to us, and who think they have the right to lie to us. The Yes campaign wants us to trust in ourselves, in our potential, in our talents, resources and skills.
Who do you trust more – a rabid Westminster dug that is out of control, that eats you out of house and home, that steals from your plate, that stops you entering the spare bedroom and pisses radioactive waste in your living room, that regularly attacks the neighbours in the Middle East, and threatens to savage you if you don’t surrender, or a wee ginger Holyrood dug that’s taken to obedience classes on a short lead and a muzzle. A dug we can teach to do tricks.
Vote for control. Vote for the short lead. Vote yes.
