Tag Archives: Scotland

Scottish Independence 2014 – Vote with your heart.


Should we vote yes? The question on the mind of all those who follow the current affairs of our great nation. The SNP leader Alex Salmond recently launched his ‘Vote yes’ campaign – a touching seminar was held with speeches from prominent identities from a plethora of different politcal persuasions: from Socialists to Free market activists, from parliamentary members to actors, from Nationalists to Environmentalists and Globalists, all were present.

But for many Scots the question remains, what exactly should we vote? The Queens jubilee weekend has seen union jacks flying on the street corners in many towns. But is this really, an embodiment of love for the Union? Or simply the embodiment of anti-Catholic sectarianism in our society? One must concur the latter is far more likely. We must not let the sheer idiocy of sectarian football fans – who unfortunately make up a large percentage of our populace – deter us from our right to self-determination.

So what should we vote?

The answer to that question, should be a resounding yes, yet  many argue that we simply would not be able to survive without the Union. They  point out “our” glorious shared history. Our shared history and heritage – of what? Of enslaving other nations and raping them of their resources? Of rampant colonialism and imperialism? Of killing million in the hundreds of war we have entered in name of “King and country”? For the love our great Queen, whom is here simply because our great union, our great bastion of freedom and equality – forbids a catholic to sit on the throne? Or for the creation of the terrible concept of concentration camps ( Yes, that WAS our idea, aren’t you just ever so proud to be British?) that we all condemn those terrible Nazis for?

‘That’s only one side of the story’, I hear you cry!

Yes yes, the Union has brought us many great things. Most notably, the Highland clearances, which forced literally thousands of Scots off of their land, or into poverty working for less than sustenance at the hands of London based landowners; But that’s okay right, since sheep were worth so much more the to the union than Scots. Or the great industry that made Scotland one of the richer nations of the 19th century? Ah yes the industry that was there to fuel all the raping and plundering mentioned in the previous paragraph, that our great nation enjoyed so much ! Or we could jump a little into the future and look at how the Union hid the 1970s McCrone report from the Scottish public, a report that showed our currency should we be independent would be one of the strongest in all of Europe – Because God forbid Scots have the right to make their own decisions, right? Or of course the well loved memory of the total obliteration of those lovely little staple industries which kept many Scots in a job, destroyed by dear old Maggie thatcher – leaving many Scots as part of an growing underclass which has never worked and never intend to, you know the type, we see them on our streets every day –  and how later the entire economy was built around London’s banking sector, leaving us with only oil as practically our only valuable national commodity – and just look how that’s worked out for us all with this recession caused by banking (Good work, Maggie!)

So, should we vote yes?

Yes, of course we should. We should vote yes because it is our right, not to be ruled by a party that only achieved one seat in Scotland during the last general election. We should vote yes, because it is our right, not to be forced into illegal wars that the people of Scotland demonstrated against, yet at the whim of our English and American masters, found their sons and daughters fighting and dying in. We should vote yes because it is our right to say we no longer wish to be  patronised and told we will never make it as a free nation by the BBC. A  broadcasting agency run from London, but in no way biased against the idea of Scottish independence or capable of telling us Scots what we “should” think about the issue. We should vote yes, because we can make it as a nation. Because we can become a strong, competitive economy in today’s world.

Because maybe,  just maybe we can give our children, and their children, a Scotland which we can be proud of. A Scotland in which we are the masters, a Scotland independent of foreign rule, a Scotland where our children can grow up, confident of their nations ability to run it’s own affairs.

Whatever you choose to think of this piece, when the time comes for the referendum. Disregard all doubt from mind, and simply vote with your heart.




As he slipped back into conciousness he felt the slick, wet of his head. Tasting metal in his mouth he began to stir, turning over onto his side to prepare for the coming hardship of finding solid footing on the cold, bloody ground. ‘Bastards’, ‘Nothing but lousy good for nothing cunts’ he cursed quietly, staggering up onto his feet. Bleary eyed and dazed he took a moment to adjust to his surroundings: The walls were dark – much like everything else in the alley – and the only source of light seemed to be protuding from a worn out, candle-lit lantern hanging idly from someone’s balcony. Sighing, Malaky begin to dazily walk down the narrow path, using the tight walling for support he emerged out into the glaze of the firepits lighting the main causeway.

‘Oi, Schottlander!’ A deep voice drenched in all the tells of a rough rhinelandic accent, called from outside a small inn to his left. ‘ Where the fuck did you go too? And what the hell happened to your fucking face, looks a lot worse than usual, and that’s fuckin’ hard am I right?’

‘Oh nothing, just a couple of fuckin’ Gearmáinis like yerself decided to have a do at me and leave me for dead, no big deal ken?’
The air grew silent as the man digested what had just be said.
Angrily, Malaky looked intently at the man, sizing him up. The Deuscthlander returned the gaze and the air grew much more noticably tense. Onlookers began to stop and stare as the two approached each other, the wet ground crunching loudly beneath their feet.

‘Haha ya cunt! Wit do you think ye were dain tellin’ me to call the Karl a fuckin’ kiddy fiddler in yer ain tongue? Ye ken I dinnae speak that shite well!’
The Deustchlander, Josef laughed at what seemed to the rather puzzeled onlookers, to be nothing short of further insult to the Bavarian kingdom and it’s people – at least more so than the foreigner seemed to have already inflicted – Yet, their utter amazement was furthered as both drunken men embraced happily, before making their way back into the inn, with the Deustchlander laughing hysterically at the wounds on Malaky’s face and the tears to his clothing he had acquired.

As they disappeared through the arched doorway, a slight figure emerged from the alley of which Malaky had awoken, in one hand, a small candle-lit lantern and in the other a musket bearing the arms of Hapsburg on it’s sides. The figure watched the continued exchange blank faced & stony eyed before into the inn with a glint of evil in his dark eyes.



Staring at a deep blue sky as euphoric melodies pound his senses he focus’ on the murder overhead; His eyes gradually fall to gaze over an broken creature, it’s head dipped and lined against the cold back drop of January frost. The creature’s eyes meet his – only for an instant; He witnesses images of a thousand winters past, chillingly he breaks away his gaze from the creature; As it turns it’s head the melody falls, revealing the soft sound of the wind, blurred slightly as he turns his head. A beautiful tune picks up slowly reminding him of Summer’s past as he gazes toward a shadowly figure, looming underneath an rustic canopy, silent and unmoving so resembling nothing more than an grotesque manifestation of broken hearts and forgotten memories.

He tears his gaze away; Looking out over the road he see’s what he is waiting for, the soft tread of feet on gravel path overcomes the gentle, infantile melody that plays over his sense, lighting them. The sound of wailing and of despair breaks over him as he and many others gather around a small sign…restless.
Light breaks over him as darkness passes by; calmly he shuffles in between several figures, the sound of howling despair slowly being replaced by a tidal like symphony of euphoric bliss.


Everything is silent.

A face stares back at him. It’s eyes full of haunt and despair. He turns his head again, dipped slightly he steps forward. When he raises his eyes the sun blinds him with it’s intensity, he turns quickly, shying from it’s accusing, lingering gaze. He hurries, climbing n dark stair case as many dark figures watch him silent; yet unobservant, reflecting upon their own tired, pedantic existence.

Oblivious to them he reaches the top of the stair case and looks out towards the sea, the sun still rising slowly as it illuminates all but the outer corners of the coastline, he smiles ruefully as he notices it and sits down.

To his left a man stirs, wide grinned and toothless he lies lolling against the revealing morning light, small holes dotted across arm illuminated as if curiously by the winter sun.

He looks away.

His gaze falls upon another face, staring at him. The face is filled with something strange to the boy, it’s eyes are light and carefree wheras his are dark and anxious. He stares deeper into the blue; As he gazes – with almost morbid curiosity – the face laughs gleefully and it’s eye’s light up at his shock at such a sound.
Smiling he realises it is his face, his eyes filled with an thousand dreams and his head with naive adolescant thoughts.

He sits back as basking in the light, grinning he gazes out infront of him as the darkness behind him and those whom it has taken fall further and further behind.