Khat to be banned in the United Kingdom : we're saved from Armageddon !

That magnificent moral band of people called the United Kingdom government, inspired by our wise Home Secretary, Theresa May, is to ban the mastication of khat, a bunch of twigs and leaves which if chewed upon makes the chomper temporarily unproductive and leads him to carry out acts of terrorism. You've got to admit, as a form of reasoning, it makes watertight sense. Furthermore, our government believes it is a practice that if not banned sine die will accelerate the coming of Armageddon.

Now, for all you liberals out there  - I mean Liberal Democrats not real liberals  -  this is great news. We are really beginning to get to grips with assuring an end to all the nasty behaviours in which the immigrant poor indulge. That's why Mr Clegg acquiesced meekly when Mr Cameron  explained to us how he would stop the activities of those devious Bulgarians and Rumanians from the far east of our continent who step on to our sceptred isle and by cunning alchemy convert all the taxes we Britishers pay from our very own pockets into welfare payments which end up in THEIR pockets. Of course you'll find propagandists  out there from the centre left  -  not from the Labour Party of course, but from the real centre left   -  who claim that these foreign deviants are in work, paying their taxes and are not taking our welfare benefits. Well, if you believe that sort of rubbish you probably imagine that the NHS is a good institution. What a laugh !

Anyway back to the subject of those worst ever drugs that all the Johnnie Foreigners in our country are ingesting 24 hours a day.  Let me tell you,  all you people from East African countries living in our welcoming country who might be assuming that the consumption of your drug of choice is being singled out and picked upon, that this is just not the case.  Hold back on your prejudice.  Next week the United Kingdom government will  announce an immediate ban on the intake of nicotine and the imbibing of alcohol.*

* "OK officer, I'll come quietly, and I will learn to appreciate that my last sentence was unpatriotic, traitorous and most significantly, an anti-capitalist lie". 

Free Scotland in 2014 : a sense of my own worth

I hope that on September 18th, 2014, the voters of Scotland choose to make their country an independent one. Others have demonstrated that there are many compelling economic, political and philosophical reasons for Scotland to choose to be independent but for me as a Scot living away from his country, the attraction of freedom is emotional as much as it is rational.

Behind bars on the Scotsman's stair

     A healthy indicator of the nationalist movement in Scotland is its internationalism. In the first instance, it has a wish to be understood as European as much as it is Scottish. Informally, the Scots have a long tradition of this, not only in the development of  European thinking, but also in the way the Scottish diaspora has disseminated and in turn implemented its ideas about science, engineering, medicine, construction, democracy, government, education and etc., throughout the world. 

     What impacts more powerfully upon me is the evocative and provocative sense of a free Scotland. Being Scottish connects me to a place where I belong, where I come from and where I spent my childhood. If Scotland votes for independence  I will be pleased not to feel - in a very embarrassing way - churlish when I insist that I am Scottish at those times when it is assumed that by being British I must be “English.”  For certain, I love where I live in England and I love English people. Yet, why is it that perhaps 6 or 7 times a year I find myself in a situation which impels me to protest that I am a Scot ?  Some will not understand this. After all, Belgians don’t get called French, Dutch people don’t get called German, Portuguese folk don’t get called Spanish and English people seldom experience - directly or by implication - being  called Scottish. For most people my anxiety may seem childish. It is. It runs deep. It is primitive.  It frets over my sense of my own worth  - not in pounds sterling  -  but as a human being. 

Edinburgh, January 1st,  2014.