Generally the kind of pain which we’re used to in the Scottish independence movement is the emotional pain that comes from witnessing the likes of a newspaper which would be the periodical of choice of a Sith Lord posing as a great defender of moral values. Or there’s the pain incurred by our sensibilities on being informed by the BBC that next week they’re going to broadcast an hour long documentary about one of the great love stories of the 20th century, which they’re trying to tell us in all seriousness is the marriage between Liz and Phil. Ohhhh kaaay.
So that’s an enduring love story if you consider glowering at one another across the state banquet table and telling a flunky to pass the salt as a tale of sacrifice and devotion to each other that’s on a par with Romeo and Juliet. This is the kind of crap that makes the rest of us call the BBC out as a propaganda outlet. Honestly BBC, stick to glossy documentaries about the mating rituals of the lesser spotted great-tit, because you’re fooling no one with your glossy documentaries about the mating rituals of the all too frequently spotted posh person.
A gushing documentary about the love that Liz and Phil have for one another is every bit as fictional as just about any rom com starring Gwyneth Paltrow, only Gwyneth is far less demanding. It’s even less engaging than one of those afternoon television brain boilers about star crossed lovers one of whom is dying of cancer, which is so bad that you find yourself cheering on the tumour. It’s even less believable than any movie with Woody Allen as the decrepit auld romantic lead to whom young and attractive women are inexplicably attracted, and it doesn’t even approach the plausibility of one of those movies in which a beautiful, confident and successful woman ends up falling head over heels with her creepy stalker who has a body odour problem and always wears dirty t-shirts with suspicious stains on them.
All of this makes me wonder if I’m fated to end up in a loving relationship with the creepy stalkerish stamp collector guy who keeps sending me emails telling me how much he hates me. I’m sure he only collects stamps because he loves licking the Queen’s behind so I won’t be surprised if this blog post provokes another missive. Well I say missive. It’s the internet equivalent of a note scrawled in green crayon on a torn piece of hard and shiny toilet paper. (Talking of notes – just a wee note for you, stamp collector guy. If you’re going to write to someone telling them that they have a poor command of written and spoken English, try to use its and it’s properly. It won’t do much for your credibility because that ship has long since sailed, but it will give me one less reason to mock you.)
You can be pretty certain that the gushing documentary won’t be addressing the persistent rumours that Phil and Liz have scarcely been on speaking terms since the 1950s and the claims that each of them allegedly has had their own love stories involving other people. That’s why some were saying that when Phil was celebrating his 90th birthday he only wanted close family to attend, so he didn’t invite Andrew or Edward. That’s the kind of joke you won’t find on prime time BBC telly.
Actually, why am I calling it a documentary? In comparison to this programme Doctor Who is a documentary. What the BBC is telling us is a documentary is really the kind of intelligence insulting fiction that a Brexiteer wouldn’t even dare to write on the side of a bus.
You won’t be surprised to learn that I won’t be watching the programme as I’ll be fully occupied doing something more productive and meaningful, like howking out the dirt from underneath my fingernails or trying extract a particularly irritating and persistent nasal hair. The only redeeming feature about this glossy whitewash job is that it’s not going to be presented by Nicolas Witchell because he’s still fully occupied trying to persuade Prince Charles that his creepy stalkerish love is true and pure. Possibly he should take up stamp collecting.
Anyway, it’s not like there’s any shortage of posh people on the telly pretending to be in serious relationships with one another, Made in Chelsea is going to be on E4 at the same time and no one is going to insist on putting its regulars on a stamp. But E4 doesn’t make Made in Chelsea using money that has been extracted from us all on pain of criminal charges. It’s only the BBC that does that. It’s not just that the BBC pumps out propaganda that we find objectionable. What really sticks in the craw is the fact that we’re expected to pay for it. That’s why the BBC ends up being the subject of so much ire and anger. The Daily Mail and the Express are propaganda sheets that spill bile and dreck all over the body politic, but those of us who find them objectionable don’t have to pay for it. The BBC doesn’t give us that choice. If you’re going to take our money, then we expect you to reflect our views, and that is precisely what the BBC doesn’t do.
Putting up with the pish is all part and parcel of the mental pain that comes from the British state, but no one told me that campaigning for Scottish independence was likely to hurt so much physically. The other week I was doing a talk in Rothesay which involved an overnight stay, and afterwards was walking the dog. My good shoes don’t have great grip, the dug lunged at something, I slipped on some wet leaves on one of Rothesay’s many steep hills and went flying. Ever since I’ve been nursing a cracked rib. It’s even more painful than listening to Fluffy Mundell avoid questions from Scottish MPs. At least Fluffy has a soporific effect, a cracked rib keeps you awake at night. So you might have noticed from the tone of this blog article that I’m a wee bit tetchy right now. I’m sure there will be plenty more to crack me up before the rib heals.
The Wee Ginger Dug has got a new domain name, thanks to Indy Poster Boy, Colin Dunn @Zarkwan. http://www.indyposterboy.scot/ You can now access this blog simply by typing www.weegingerdug.scot into the address bar of your browser, the old address continues to function, the new one redirects to the blog. The advantage of the new address is that it’s a lot easier to remember if you want to include a link to the blog in leaflets, posters, or simply to tell a friend about it. Many thanks to Colin.
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Totally sympathise with the cracked rib! I took my dog for a walk along the beach at Broughty Ferry a few weeks ago – tripped and fell flat on my face in the sand and ended up in A+E at Ninewells Hospital with a suspected cracked rib! Who knew it could be so hard and painful to fall on sand!
Here’s hoping you feel better soon!!
OUCH….WGD…..hope your rib heals very well and soon. Your sense of humour and excellent writing skills remain intact.
My husband was in the Royal Navy in the 1960s and the tales about the goings on the Royal barge were passed amongst the lower ranks. Jolly japes and all that!
Wellies are de rigueur in Argyll.. you need traction!
Poor you, though if it had been the serpentine you’d have been skiting still! Agree that wellies are an essential piece of kit for Argyll in the Autumn, and Summer, Spring and Winter too. 😀
Cannae wait for the docu drama of auld Lizzie and her Greek holiday romance. NOT! Surely the Beeb is trolling with this rubbish or is the royals rep so bad these days that this was believed to get the loyal subjects away from thoughts of Charles and the dragon…err sorry Camilla as the next hingers oan.
Anyway, as I am a girl and do not possess nasal hair, I will have to find other ways of occupying my time whilst this prog goes out. Thanks for the heads up btw…
It’ll be fine in about six weeks.
The BBC are really going to town with programmes about the royals at the moment. We’ve got a lovely new late afternoon series of Royal Recipes so that a bunch of sycophants, led by the aptly named Michael Buerk, can tell us all about the wonderful treats they have cooked over the years for Their Royal Highnesses!
So the biggest welfare recipients in the land being wheeled out for the rule britanianats. Bloody fandabbydoodoo.
The scary thing is, some will actually watch it and not squirm, and they will not think of the homeless person down the road freezing to death or the single mother with cancer being sanctioned and facing losing her home and the many who are struggling just to get through a whole month, until pittance wage day comes, just to start the cycle of debt all over again.
I saw some daily rag today front page saying that watching tv for hours on end can give you DVT. I thought, aye, it’s also much more likely if your house is cold. An hour watching Lizzie and coffin dodger (sorry it just seems that some folks go on forever) might just kill you.
I bet Lizzie and Phil have their heating on in all however many 100s of rooms. They could house the poor and destitute in one or 2 of the palaces they have on the backs of the people. But no, this is great Britannia 2017.
Off on a tangent, now I go into my local coop only to see britnat flags on everythjng and to hear their inhouse awful radio tell me I should buy some of their, ‘new BRITISH COFFEE’! Argh!
Also saw on twitter that the council where Grenfell was burnt to the ground full of people, are asking residents to fill in a form about what concerns them, 0-10. Grenfell being on the list, among the usual concerns of which days you think your bins should be collected! Aye, it’s great Britain, 2017. Sickening.
Oh f/k anyone else feeling suffocated by this bloody straight jacket we are trussed up in , you almost want to shake some sense into folk who fall for this pish ,
we have people sleeping for the want of a better word outside at night every bloody night and yet there are palaces a plenty empty ,at a stroke this windsor lot could end homelessness tonight ,
The best joke is we get pay for them now thats a f/kn hoot isn’t it while they dodge paying tax .
Can anyone explain the point of these benefit scroungers apart from being some kind of tourist attraction ,its nothing more than a great symbol of englishness and all things english , because this is the english royal family .
Disney does tourist and they do it very well but we dont pay taxes for them to live life on the hog at our expense .
Its a gigantic f/u to all plebs we are still in charge live with it mugs .
France does not bad on the tourism front in spite of the lack of a royal family.
God help us all when Mrs Windsor dies. I’m away to see if my passport is up to date. Russia?
Sympathy from me. It hurts when you laugh so I expect more “tetchy” blogs over the coming weeks. You are so good at making me laugh in adversity. Thank YOU xx.
Get well asap.
I’m still beelin’ that some faceless unnamed panel of consultants got to call our magnificent new Southern General the ‘Queen Elizabeth’.
The Brits are no better than tyrants throughout history.
You may note that I write ‘the Brits’ and in doing so state that I do not consider myself one of Liz’s ‘subjects’, or myself to be anything other than a born and bred Scot. A true Freeman of Independent Scotland.
A third of the world has buildings, bridges, and landmarks named after the Windsors.
‘Royal’ is appended to charity organisations, bird protection, child welfare and so on. Why?
What the hell does Lizzie being a ‘patron’ of the RSPCA mean? Nothing.
There are portraits of Auld Lizzie in mess halls, and we are exhorted to die ‘for Queen’ and country.
What a ridiculous notion in 21st Century Scotland.
She is not my queen. I do not recognise the evil control construct of a monarchy as valid in our modern democracy. Who says she is my ‘head of state’?
They are leeches, window dressing, hangers on, living off the fat of the land and inherited wealth and booty plundered and stolen from countries which they invaded.
India, Scotland, Kenya, the list is obscene and long of bloody insurgency by HR Armies East India Company, Hudson Bay Company Carpetbaggers Murderers and Slave Merchants.
Brit museums are still full of treasure stolen from the Empire.
The notion that I or any of mine were brought up to bow, curtsy, or forelock tug any monarch, or Lord Ian Duncan or Fire Raiser Tom Watson, or Lord Sewell of Red Bra infamy is disgusting nonsense.
During the Profumo Affair, when you may recall Doctor Ward conveniently committed suicide and got them all off the perverted tawdry bloodstained hook, there were heavy hints and Phil the Greek’s name was being bandied about.
Something about orgies at Lord Astor’s place, allegedly, he hastily adds to avoid being clapped in irons for treason and having our home sued out from under us by a ‘small island of lawyers’. (The filthy rich and powerful all have a small island of lawyers apparently.
David Cameron might know more about the Profumo Scandal. He’s married to the current Lord Astor’s step daughter, I believe.
21 st Century England is awash with scandal and corruption.
Child Molestation, MPs at it, and female staff sent out to but dildos for their boss.
Grubby, sleazy, chancers, out for themselves.
They were all out yesterday in their finery.
Murdo Fraser had a go at the SNP WM Leader of wearing a kilt.
Well a restored portrait of my maternal grandfather hangs on the wall of my dining room. |He is in uniform, with kilt,and his beloved bagpipes. He is 17. He lied about his age in 1916, was one of those kilties who went over the top armed with nothing but his pipes and a stirring battle tune. He ended up in a sanatorium recovering from a mustard gas attack.
He was in poor health for the rest of his shortened life.
Murdo Fraser, I know that WGD is required reading.
Fuck off, you political failure, and give all decent minded Scots peace.
Back to the Royals.
I bow down to no man or woman.
Young Green Ross Greer is on the twittersphere defending the BBC as unbiased.
Can somebody in the Green Party take this young ‘Socialist’ aside and give him a good talking to?
Rant over.
Murdo Fraser, just shut the fuck up.
You insulted my grandfather, and that is unforgivable for all eternity.
Ps. Where’s my manners, Paul. Cracked ribs are a bummer. Takes about 6 weeks and a lot of paracetamol. Job’s comforter, I know.
Take care.
Freedom!!!
Well said sir!
You will be pleased to know that we do not need to use the RSPCA here in Scotland, as we have our very own ScottishSPCA. The SSPCA regularly lose income to the Royal version as their advertising is shown all over the UK. They sometimes put tiny words at the bottom of the screen that concedes that they only work in England and Wales! Sorry about the rant, it was not aimed at you. I always look out for your posts, they are some of my favourites.
Paul, I’ve had a cracked rib, it hurts! Get better soon, though your tetchy blogs are very entertaining and informative. x
Toni – the same goes for a whole lot of charities , most of them have been advised to let folk know they dont operate in scotland , do the take notice do they f/k it’s only jockland and we are always moaning .
I wonder if it ever strikes them WHY , WHY do we always have keep correcting them .its getting a bit bloody boring now
A list (of the bigger ones at least) would be useful. Has anyone produced one?
Jack, when did writing the truth become a “rant”?
Perhaps I am feeling Paul’s pain, Jan.
What you said:-)
So here’s wishing you a speedy and hopefully not too painful recovery, and please for our sakes and Scotland’s if not for your own and the dug’s, take care of yourself!
The thought of being stalked by a stamp-collecting geek is at least preferable to contemplating Phil the Greek, especially as a be-kilted Duke of Edinburgh — ugh!
Mebbie in these confused days of Brexit-chaos they’re grasping at straws and trying to recapture the BritNat pride and confidence of 1953. The war was well over, the UK recovering, us peace-babies all toddling around oor tiny minds filled with Coronation this that and the other, New Elizabethans no less. Ow dear, look how that’s all worked out!
At least Liz back then looked like a film star, a act that can’t easily be followed now. The UK like it’s monarch is indeed a rather tired old girl these days.
Philately will get you nowhere.
The old ones are the best, Marco.
Oh dear, yes! How did I not think of that one?
The Royal Family are a Mafia, a criminal organisation fleecing the world with their off shore accounts and Rothschild banking connections. The disease spreads right across the world, from Phil the Greek’s Nazi background, to sinister tales of children going missing in Canada with the Queen and Philip found guilty in a Belgian Court. Take a look at ‘Unlawful Killing’, the Keith Allen film about the death, or rather, murder of Diana. And if you want their history in a more entertaining form, watch ‘Royal Babylon’ on YouTube. Pure fckn evil. Get well soon Paul!
Sorry to hear about your cracked rib Paul. Get well soon!
Ohhh, cracked rib? Sympathies on that. Done my ankle a week or so back and it’s bloody nigh on impossible to find a comfy position to sit, lie or stand.
As for programming? No… safe to say I won’t be watching either. The lifestyles of the rich and wossiname bore me to tears. I have about as much interest in their lives as they do in mine. Which is to say, none at all. Never really understood some folk’s fascination for celeb private lives. Near as I can see the only difference between them and us is their bogs are slightly warmer in the winter and they wipe their bums with three ply instead of news sheet. (shrugs) Whatever floats their boat I suppose.
Onywise, take care of that rib and stock up on the ibuprofen. Off to beddyboos.
Indeed Mac. Warmer loos. I bared my arse as a child in an unheated outside shared toilet provided for our “single end” which was owned by my father’s employer. I used newspaper and did the business by torchlight.
Ha! Same here Robert. Reminds me of the old ditty:
Tonight’s the night you’ll do a big shite, but I’ve got the key of the lavvy!
As a tribute to the Hard Times many of us seem to have shared, perhaps Salmon could publish a daily news sheet, ‘The Scatological Times’, debunking the horse manure produced by this gaggle of Unionist Dead Tree Scrollers and Queen Worshippers?
The Scatological Times.
I like that.
“It’s the internet equivalent of a note scrawled in green crayon on a torn piece of hard and shiny toilet paper.”
Is that even possible?
Ive tri…. I know someone who’s tried!😳
sorry to hear about the fall, 😔
get well soon and no laughing!✊
Hope the Dug’s ribs are OK.
sorry tae hear o’ yer broken rib, Paul … hope all is well soon … but it certainly has’nae dulled yer observations or wit … mair power tae yer pen (and regards tae the dug)
Liz and Phil? Yes, a heartwarming romantic idyll. Like Michael Faallon and Julia Hartley-Brewer. *sigh*
You are a knotty girl. Agatha, but I like you.
Nothing’s easy without a night’s sleep, Paul. Get well soon.
That ‘licking the Queens backside’ notion is a cracker.
Mind ye, gei’n me siccint thochts on supportin’ yer WGD stamps but. 🙂
Sorry to hear about your ribs Paul,an wish you a speedy recovery, I am going to go of topic straight away if no one minds to much, It was bought to my attention about the Scottish brand, has it ever occurred to anyone that it’s not just our produce that is Scottish,we also are our own brand of people no matter how ,where or when we came to be or think of our selfs as Scottish,today I was reading in WOS about goons(sorry meant to say yoons)complaining about our MSP wearing a kilt,indeed wearing tartan freaks them out, so let’s do it,all yessers,wear your Scottish brand every day.everywhere,it doesn’t have to be a kilt.how about a tie,handbag,trousers,bonnet or hat,wristband shoes or shirt,maybe something in your car or house,go to meetings,and conventions in your tartans.cafes show each other that you believe in the yes movement and lead by example.it also helps to break the ice and get speaking to other people,we can now wear our nations tartans and it is no longer banned,we are the people of Scotland,We are the Brand.so let’s not be made to feel ashamed or embarrassed about our nations products,produce,customs or tartan kilts.you see Morris men in England and the Welsh costumes in wales and many more examples all over the world.wear our tartans and let’s get a feeling of pride back.this goes for our laungages,dialects songs music,inventions and businesses.