In the spirit of New
Year, regular commentator Bernard Thompson touts his expertise to the
Scottish opposition for 2017
The weak are a long
time in politics , as someone once probably said, therefore to
attempt to anticipate the intrigues of the political class would be
to betray so feeble a mind as to render one worthy of derision.
Nonetheless, this
never stopped John McTernan from offering a detailed analysis of a
Christmas yet to come, so why should lowly scribes and ill-informed
hacks be any different?
Hurl
your predictions boldly; something is sure to stick, as Francis Bacon
would likely have advised – or even something rasher!
For my part, I was
born and spent most of my life in Glasgow’s south side. And as
anyone who is even semi-literate will tell you, being born a
soothsider is as much of a curse as it is a gift.
Everybody wants to
know their future and it’s usually bad news, which invariably
results in them wishing to shoot the messenger, especially when
seeking solace in the misfortune of others is misconstrued as taking
pleasure in prophesying doom.
However, there are
two golden rules when sharing your second sight. Firstly, never do so
for material gain (hence I offer this to NewsNet.cheapskate). (That’s
MISTER Cheapskate to you. Ed)
Secondly, don’t
pussyfoot around, hedging your bets, using ambiguous language
intended to allow yourself wriggle room later on.
No, when you
foretell the future, you must be unequivocal, daring the world to
rebuke and ridicule you, slam yourself in the pillory ready for all
the snash and brickbats that the ungrateful masses would like to hurl
your way.
Sit back, then, and
listen as I tell you how it’s going to be in Scottish politics in
2017.
I see division,
schism, houses divided against themselves, the temple curtain rent in
two – all sorts of malarkey – and none will be untouched even
though they may smear their door pillars with sacrificial Irn Bru.
LibDems… remembered
First, the LibDems
as it’s nice to let people know that you remember them at this time
of year, even if it can be embarrassing to receive your card back
marked, “Not at this address – deceased.”
In an optimistic
attempt to be noticed – Willie Rennie will resign citing an
unacceptable lack of speculation as to his sexuality or whether it in
fact exists.
However, nobody in
Scottish politics will notice.
Slightly more
attention will be paid to his announcement that he has been asked to
reconsider and decided to remain to fight for Britain’s place in
the European Union.
This will achieve
some coverage below the memorial poems on the intimations page of the
Evening Times.
Re-energised, Rennie
will publish what his party will bill as his “seminal work” and
“legacy document” on Britain’s European future. This tome will
bear striking similarities to Tim Farron’s analysis – have a
second EU referendum – but will pay special attention to the
shortbread and Edinburgh Rock industries and insist on no second
Scottish independence referendum.
The public will be
largely oblivious to the paper with those that do hear of it vaguely
asking: “Did he not retire because of something to do with his sex
life?”
Greens surging
The Greens will
redefine their mission. Tired of waiting for a natural disaster and
needful of a distinct position, Patrick Harvie will recommend a name
change to the Green and Anti-Catholic Education Party.
Harvie will be at
pains to stress that this will not equate to Anti-Catholicism, or a
programme of Anti-Catholic education – that would be bigoted, which
the Greens and Harvie are not, though they have a hunch Catholic
education might be.
No, this would
simply be a policy platform opposed to Catholic education – not
opposed to educating Catholics, which would be bigoted.
This policy will be
widely misunderstood in Scotland as aimed at putting Catholics in
their place and will thus see the party surge in the polls, taking
swathes of Labour and Tory supporters before a penitent and tearful
Harvie feels compelled to say that he quite likes Catholics, undoing
all of those hard-won gains.
The truth, Ruth
It will not be plain
sailing for the Tories, either.
Ruth Davidson will
finally get the call she has been waiting for to say that a safe
English Conservative seat has become available, either due to the
decrepitude of the incumbent or their being revealed to use Bramley
apples in a way which was considered normal at public school but
which wider society does not yet understand.
This will be
revealed as the reason why the same coach who taught Theresa May and
George Osborne to stand with their legs spread apart had been
training Ruth in her “gravitas” face.
(You may have noted
Davidson furrowing her eyebrows and widening her mouth in a nod to
Mike Yarwood’s Prince Charles impression, circa 1978.)
The chance to never
again have to park her car in Scotland will fill Davidson with glee
and she will quickly leave a vacancy, which will be contested by Prof
Adam Tomkins and Murdo Fraser in what will be billed a watershed
moment for the party’s direction.
Tomkins will offer a
considered, approach preaching outreach. This will prompt a
soul-searching discussion about the quality of Scottish academia and
whether it is possible or even desirable to widen the Tory gene pool.
Fraser, relishing
the opportunity to actually be elected as a candidate, will focus on
Presbyterian values and blood-and-soil buffoonery, inadvertently
finding himself being snapped at a traditional unionist parade.
Tomkins will rise
above such crudity but will Tweet a photo of himself wearing a
soldier’s hat at Ibrox on Armed Forces day.
Fraser will take an
early lead but victory will be snatched from his grasp following a
late-night Tweet which Tomkins interprets as questioning his
Scottishness, suggesting that Cybernats support Fraser.
Even the SNP will
not be immune and can be expected to lose at least one other member
due to a financial scandal of uncertain provenance being seized upon
enthusiastically by the mainstream media.
Referendum…maybe
More serious will be
Nicola Sturgeon’s announcement of the date of a second Scottish
independence referendum. You do not need to know the precise date at
this time – simply that it will enrage approximately 35 per cent of
indy supporters and be declared reckless and divisive by both
unionists and the objective media.
But the SNP’s
problems will not end there. No, tired of quarterly accusations of
being a traitor, 2017 will be the year in which an emboldened Alex
Neil will push Sturgeon to her breaking point.
A democrat to the
end, Sturgeon will tolerate Neil’s repeatedly shouting that
Brexit’s going to happen and socialists like it but she will draw
the line at him chanting “na, na, na, na, na!”
Neil will respond
that he’s a big boy and can do as he pleases prompting Sturgeon to
dictate and reluctantly accept Neil’s letter of resignation,
stating what a privilege it was for him to serve her.
Yet this will not be
the last of Neil but, more of that later.
Farewell, Kez?
Before that you must
hear of the fate of Scottish Labour, who will also bid farewell to
their leader.
It surprises some
that a challenge has not been made to Kezia Dugdale’s leadership
before now. There is an explanation for this.
It is that only an
utter balloon wouldn’t sooner be tied to the mast of the Hesperus
than take the helm of the wreck of Scottish Labour.
And while Labour
have more balloons than a family fun day at Butlin’s, even those
members of questionable virtue and limited judgement making up their
ranks know better than to release Kez of the sticky bomb that is
their party’s leadership.
But nothing lasts
forever, like Labour polling in double figures, for example.
While they will
officially deny it, Labour will enter into a pact with the
Conservatives, which will be exposed when thousands of people are
told by Labour canvassers to vote Tory.
This, some will
dutifully do, sending a few SNP councils into Tory hands and all but
wiping Labour out, which will be celebrated with a party political
broadcast featuring three minutes of John McTernan cackling and Blair
McDougall smugly Tweeting from his bath chair about how the Nats have
been found out.
Kez, however, will
for the first time outmanoeuvre someone and announce her shock
departure, which she will blame on Cybernat abuse, and then take up a
post with a political consultancy arranging lunches between business
people in distress and her diminishing contacts list.
This will leave
Labour with an existential crisis embodied by Alex Rowley and Neil
Findlay.
Rowley will advocate
a Labour open to Scottish independence; Findlay will insist that Ian
Murray MP belongs to Jeremy Corbyn, even though he is a stick-on to
be shown the door at the next general election.
Rowley will propose
a new, left-of-centre, pro-independence party with – yes, you’ve
guessed it – Alex Neil!
For this, Neil will
be declared a traitor and Rowley will be described, by John McTernan,
in very short words beginning with b and c, with the bold John
demonstrating his ability to use both, interchangeably, as nouns,
verbs and adjectives.
Some will say, “But
we already have a party like that: RISE.”
The sensitive
response will be to recall that mis-timed visit to the smallest room
in the house, while wearing light-coloured trousers – we all know
it happened but it’s too embarrassing to mention.
Alex and Alex will
quickly announce that they have recruited Cat Boyd, whose timing is
impeccable, and Darren “Loki” McGarvey, securing the young yins’
vote.
Loki will perform
the party’s rapifesto, and declare the capture of Boyd as a coup,
before being rounded upon online for his use of archaic, sexist
language.
This new party will
be announced as the Scottish National Independent Labour Party, which
someone will immediately shorten to the SNaILs, evoking memories of
the Salad party and sparking reminiscences from Willie Rennie that no
one will listen to.
But the birth of the
SNaILs will not be the end of the Scottish Labour party, largely
because it has never existed.
It would take more
than Alex Rowley jumping into bed with Alex Neil (I speak
figuratively though the literal would surely be a vote-winner) to
destroy the Scottish branch office of the biggest political behemoth
in Europe.
No, the branch
office will persist, consisting of the dank smell of failure, the fey
echo of Gordon Brown reciting the vow and Findlay, who will go to the
country, asking for Labour’s last chance, number 337.
He will promise real
reform and no more deals with the Tories in a statement countersigned
by Adam Tomkins.
This will be the end
for Findlay, who will call Jeremy Corbyn, reminding him of that time
he said Neil could come and stay any time.
In the nicest
possible way, Jez will explain how he doesn’t have a spare room and
that perhaps next year would be better, after which Neil will be
found on NewsNet podcasts, like Eric Joyce.
New Commissar in town
Back at the Scottish
Labour office, bouncing back from rejection by Celebrity Pimp My Ride
because his candy-striped Porsche Cayenne with downlighters and pink
fur upholstery didn’t offer enough potential, George Galloway (who
believes every office smells of fresh cologne) will demand that
Corbyn appoint him commissar, as he alone identifies with the
struggle of the proletariat.
For the SNaILs,
never one to invite himself to a party north of Manchester, Comrade
Citizen Tommy, now resembling the harmonica-player at the end of
Morecambe & Wise, will instead flash his white teeth and suntan
on YouTube videos and Internet memes urging people to lend their
support to the SNaILs.
He will then switch
his smartphone to full vibrate before slipping it into the front
pocket of his marble-washed, skintight jeans and wait for a call.
Alas, Comrade
Citizen is destined to find that great anticipation often precedes
anti-climax, leading to political disappointment but increased
romantic empathy.
These things I have
seen with mine own eyes – all three of them.
And I tell you
solemnly that, as each and every foretelling comes to pass, I shall
be here crowing about it, for verily only a bloody fool misses a
chance to say, “I told you so”.
But should,
forsooth, some cosmic event derail the set course of the future, no
matter. I shall simply take up the post of chief strategist of the
Labour party.
If you’re
wondering, Kez, you can get my number from the NewsNet editor (NOT
for publication, remember)!
I always keep my
phone suitably primed in a convenient pocket in my jeans.
Failing that, I
suppose any of the aforementioned parties may seek my services.
Like any man of
principle, I use my talents only according to my values. I cannot be
bought.
However, there may
be some late rental offers, subject to availability.
Book now, as I
cannot predict the future.
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