The comments by BP’s chief execute, Tony Hayward, that, as a Brit, he can take the vitriol that’s being chucked at himself and his company may not exactly be helpful, but it’s certainly more constructive than the crude oil that’s spilling out of Barack Obama’s department, which have led to yet another war of words with Britain. The new British Business Secretary, Vince Cable, was forced to condemn American ‘gunboat diplomacy,’ citing the president’s ‘extreme’ anti-British rhetoric, having heard that the US government now intended to launch criminal proceedings. Now, I’m as much on the US’s side as anyone else here; it was BP that caused the mess, even if it doesn’t deserve the lion’s share of the blame. And that’s exactly why I object to their president’s obsessive hatred of Britain and its people, which now rears its ugly head yet again. It may surprise Mr Obama to know that BP is actually a multinational company. Although he gets his fix on referring to it as British Petroleum, it has been officially known as Beyond Petroleum for more than a decade. However, as much as I’d like to think that Obama doesn’t have a bizarre, deep-seated resentment of Britain, I simply must accept that everything he’s done during his presidency, from sending back an official gift, a bust of Churchill, to the frankly insulting treachery of refusing to support us over our defence of the Falklands, which are as much a part of Britain as London, despite our involvement in two of America’s wars. Of course, the Gulf of Mexico oil rig explosion is not even comparable to the destruction levelled on the Indian city of Bhopal in where almost two and a half thousand citizens were killed by pesticides, with estimates of more than ten thousand Indian civilians killed as a result of the disaster. That was, funnily enough, not caused by British imperialism, nor even by a British corporation, but an American company known as Union Carbide. What about the one hundred and seventy people killed by an American company, Occidental Petroleum, in the North Sea? And the psychopathic US officials who refused to testify at the inquiry? Not that anyone should be killed in the pursuit of oil, but only eleven lives were lost when Deepwater Horizon exploded and sank, and the company has already taken full responsibility for the calamity - when this isn’t entirely justified, either. Obama’s criminal investigation may reveal to him the full scale of American culpability in this. It is not BP who built or managed the rigs, but an American company, Transocean. It was, in fact, Transocean that built it, and then leased it to BP. Haliburton that was responsible for the concrete, not BP. And, even though the rig was now in nominally British ownership, it was still the employees and resources of yet another US corporation who were responsible for overseeing it. I respectfully submit to the US president that he tones down his anti-colonial hatred; it is spilling out into the Atlantic, at a rate of at least three press conferences a day, and even Vince Cable, a mild-mannered financial expert, is finding it a little difficult to stem the tide flowing from such a public disaster.
"Bòrd na Gàidhlig say they are not forcing this is on anyone but if you study the plan they certainly are forcing this on us. Last month, I made a remark about the Gaelic Inquisition but that is not too strong a word for it. This is being rammed down our throats. The only way to stop this is for Caithness to declare UDI (Unilateral Declaration of Independence)." That's the opinion of one Don Smith, Thurso community councillor. You'd probably be forgiven for thinking that he's some hero of liberation for oppressed minorities; and, if you change the words 'Bòrd na Gàidhlig' for 'the government,' 'Gaelic Inquisition' for 'the police,' and 'Caithness' for 'downtown Johannesburg,' that's exactly what he'd be. But the organisation he is referring to is not an Apartheid government; it is a Scottish advisory board on the use of the country's native language. The Gaelic Inquisition, despite its comparison to a brutal medieval religious regime, is one of the most important public campaigns carried out by that organisation, to date. The objective doesn't involve the suppression of ethnic minorities; in fact, it's quite the opposite. Bilingual roadsigns, which will doubtless reduce the monopoly on roads that the non-Gaelic Scots such as Mr Smith currently enjoy, but will also enable tens of thousands of native speakers to drive without relying on their ability to speak a foreign language. In the face of the obvious benefits to the economy and social well-being of the region, Mr Smith's hysterical opposition to the scheme 'when money is being thrown at Gaelic' should be, as his fellow councillor, Mr Rosie, says regarding the new roadsigns, 'laughed out of court.' It's almost as pathetic as the Scottish transport minister, Stewart Stevenson, claiming that bilingual roadsigns (the only roadsigns that many of the inhabitants of the Highlands and Islands can understand) cause accidents. The basis of this argument, he claimed, was his accounts of English-speakers trying to read Gaelic placenames. But people who do speak it should not be denied the right to drive around on the roads that their council taxes pay for. A contributor from Nairn perhaps explains it best: "These ruins (a list of abbeys and castles) have been maintained. But does anyone realistically want to restore them to their former glory and live in these ancient piles as monks? Rightly or wrongly, that is how many view the aims of the Gaelic lobby.' There is nothing to suggest that they cause accidents, and yet the council officials take issue with Gaelic being used in the bastions where it is still spoken. Wales has nowhere near the same power as Scotland does to control its own affairs. It's national parliament is second only in powerlessness to the English lack of one. Of the four constituent nations of the United Kingdom, two Crown dependencies, and its overseas territories, Scotland is second to none in its legal autonomy. It is in Scotland,the corridors of power of village halls and community centres, that the problem lies. Scottish law does nothing to protect the language against the bigoted views espoused by its inhabitants, especially those in the media power-house of Edinburgh. The most trivial example in recent history is the comments published in 2004, in the Student newspaper, in their television listings. In a rubbish attempt to explain what Gaelic programmes were about, its editor made several comments that, whilst I personally don’t care about, would have sparked a massive public outcry had they been about any other nationality. The newspaper would probably have been banned, and the editors arrested for inciting racial hatred, and a score of other thought-crimes. However, there was no criminal or civil proceedings to be taken, for, earlier this year, MSPs voted against giving Gaelic-speakers equal status with English. Blatant racism is now perfectly acceptable, as, officially, the Gaels are second-class citizens. We should read the ‘lack of equality’ for what it is - inequality. Their promise to give it ‘equal respect’ rather than ‘equal validity’ is even more offensive. I was considering sending an email to a variety of MSPs earlier, although the irony of me writing one in English would probably have been used in one of their bizarre, logic-challenged arguments, so I didn’t bother. It wouldn’t have been as ‘valid’ as a complaint made in English, anyway. In what way is Gaelic not as valid as English? Why does the language and culture of its speakers, which is completely different to that of people in the Lowlands, not demand equal respect with English, or even languages that really are foreign, such as Punjabi and Guajarati? It may seen to the former landlords who govern us that Gaelic is the tongue of 19th-century evictees, but Gaelic is an integral part of Scottish identity. Even in the Lowlands, the vast majority of placenames are Gaelic, and the fact that many of these MSPs who ‘fail to see the relevance of Gaelic in Scotland’ cannot translate the name of their town is tragically ironic. Compared to the Scots dialects, for which there is now a campaign to recognise as no fewer than three new official, separate language, although it is perfectly possible for their speakers to understand both each other and the English, Gaelic is ancient. It first arrived in Scotland in the 300s, having been in Ireland for anything up to two thousand years, and was the official language of state until the 1100s. It continued to be the official tongue of the Highlands and Islands, under the de facto independent Lordship of the Isles, until 1493. It would be another three hundred years before Scots had a significant presence in the region, as a language of trade and commerce. In 1891, more than two and a half thousand Gaelic-speakers were returned by the census, only including those who could read and write in the language. It even, gallingly for those who maintain the exact opposite, has the backing of the current Lord of the Isles, who is none other than the heir to the throne - Prince Charles - who says that ‘Scottish life is greatly enriched by the Gaelic dimension.’ One councillor, Deirdre Mackay of Brora, Sutherland, who is the daughter of Mr Rosie, even says that allowing children to learn in their native language is damaging equal opportunities. Never mind the irony of a Labour councillor complaining about political correctness, but the notion that Gaelic ‘has to be challenged’ is flawed. She claims that, if bilingual education is to be provided, then it should be in Spanish, Urdu, and Chinese, not in Gaelic. The last time I checked, Mrs Mackay, the two of those that are languages were not spoken natively by large numbers of people, and they already have millions of speakers. And, besides, those languages are taught in Scotland; the total cost of English education is more than four and a half billion pounds per annum. That’s four and a half thousand times the cost that Mrs Mackay was complaining about - if that was proportionate to the official number of Gaels, then the population of Scotland would be twenty-seven million. She also complained that people who ring Porterfield Prison are asked if they are Gaelic-speakers - forgetting that some people are, and that Gaels have just as much right to talk to their imprisoned relatives as anyone else. She then goes on to say that it is wrong for Gaels to have such small class sizes, and receive a better education than anyone else. Not only is the logic completely backwards, but it is a false argument; her real complaint is that those who attend such schools ‘have to put up with Gaelic at the same time.’ And do you know what the most depressing part of the saga is? The councillor’s first name and surname are both of Gaelic origin. The thing that every single one of these councillors is forgetting is that Gaels also pay council tax. They also want parks; they also want good schools; they also have relatives; they also get old. It is not just for the Scots to decide how that money is spent; and, indeed, why should Gaelic money be used to support the agenda of a select few Scots with a superiority complex, and to provide them with the services that Gaels also demand? I know that comparisons with historical regimes are not that easy to pull off, especially not on a blog, but in what way is making public services exclusive to the non-Gaels any different from Apartheid? There is no ‘Gaelic Mafia’ stalking the corridors of power waiting to pull off a creagh. There will be no Scots taken out of school and thrashed for speaking English. There will be no campaign to make people pay to watch a BBC (state-owned) channel simply because they are not the ‘majority.’ There will be no Scots forced to learn a foreign language to drive and work. No-one will be refused a job because they speak English at home, and they will not have to be shut off from the rest of the world as they are forced to listen to BBC Alba in a dark room whilst their ‘normal’ classmates play amongst a wide variety of toys and fun activities, in the ‘proper’ language. We demand recognition. We are a thousand-year-old people with a unique culture and history, and a legitimate right to exist - no-one can truly deny that we are here, even if they’d rather pretend that we weren’t. We demand equality. We want schools, signs, and services that we can make use of. We pay for them, as well; we fight in wars, as well, more so than any other nation in the Commonwealth in proportion to our population size. We demand validity.
As usual, the Eurovision Song Contest is so blatantly political that I have an overwhelming urge to tear the heart out of its creator and beat it to the sound of pounding techno. Let's get one thing straight: the UK's entry, was, as usual, utter rubbish. But if you can find a country whose entry was not as cringeworthingly bad as a fat kid in glasses body-popping to Beyonce, you're watching the Winter Olympics. The vast majority of countries did better than the UK because they were better. But there are a select few who completely bombed, and it doesn't take a conspiracy theorist to see how they are connected. Ireland, Iceland, and the UK? The hair on the rear legs of a wild black Labrador is fairer than that! And the winners? Germany. With a contemporary and well-written song, but not one that, judging from the audience's reception, should have came anywhere near the top spot. It was pushed there by other Germanic and Scandinavian nations - Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland. The former Eastern Bloc partied like it was the Prague Spring - Russia included - voting and cheering for each other. Greece gave Cyprus twelve points. Serbia gave Bosnia and Herzegovina twelve points. Macedonia gave Albania twelve points. Portugal gave Spain twelve points. This went on up the ladder right to the top spot! I don't know what I'm complaining about. I've not watched it with any great attention. But if this was the Olympics, there'd be a scandal! The English World Cup bid manager was forced to resign for accusing the Spanish and Russians of bribing the referees. I think a job in Brussels is now out of the question?
The social services. Families rely on them to offer fair and impartial advice and assistance, and, yes, to sometimes take the decision to break up a family in the interests of its members. They are supposed to be trained, committed, and professional individuals; they are not supposed to be able to force children into homes for their own personal reasons, or to receive financial benefits. But they can, and they often do. In fact, there have been a large number of incidents that show this; each of them relegated to the back page of tabloids, even the harshest, such as the Daily Mail. They are only now beginning to break through to the front pages, or on the comment sections of online newspapers, where they desperately need to be. I will refer you to the work of Tim Yeo, MP for Suffolk. He has worked tirelessly over the last few years to raise the matter in parliament. He launched an outspoken attack on Suffolk County Council, claiming that it was responsible for ‘child kidnap,’ and was ‘actively seeking opportunities to remove babies from their mothers.’ To those of you who might see this as a remarkable claim to make, then the details of this particular incident, as reported in the Daily Mail, might surprise you; the social services watched the couple’s movements, and then waited for the father to leave before they launched a raid, and took the baby by force. The reason was, as with many other similar stories, was ‘physical or emotional abuse.’ This charge was declared by the council, not any actual authority on the subject, and was, claimed the MP, backed up with no evidence whatsoever. ‘The fact that no fault could be found in the physical and emotional care provided by her parents did not stop the council from destroying this fragile family.’ The council then went on to receive the opinion of two experts, although none of them would endorse the other, and the council eventually claimed that, as there was the ‘possibility of future physical or emotional abuse,’ they took action. Read that again, and count how many principles of a fair justice system that breaks; presumption of innocence, lack of evidence, and even the need to have committed a crime before you are punished. And is there really a harsher punishment for a mother than having a baby taken from her arms through no fault of her own, when the council responsible freely admits that they acted on a ‘possibility?’ She was eventually forced to move to Spain, where she gave birth to another baby, which was seized by the Spanish authorities on instructions from their British counterparts, and she is not the only one. Four babies a day are taken from their parents, just like the above incident. British families have been scattered to Spain and Ireland in the pursuit of sanity - ironic, as the latter has had to endure our jokes about the export of pregnant girls since the 1920s – and they are often unsuccessful. One of them, also in Spain, and also reported by the Daily Mail, was forced to flee when Suffolk Social Services claimed that she was not capable of raising a child because of mild learning difficulties. John Hemming, a Liberal Democrat MP, had this to say about the circumstances surround her: ‘Evidence is given in secret by experts who depend on local authorities for their income. The system is so biased towards local authorities that they get whatever they want.’ He also raised another important issue: ‘we have to stop gagging people who are victims of miscarriages of justice.’ Yes, you see, the social services know how to cover their tracks. They strictly forbid any communication between any of the parties concerned, outside of allocated times when they meet, usually for no more than an hour a week, and only when supervised. The parents of those who are taken by social services are not permitted to discuss the events, even with friends, and those who are placed in state care are forbidden from talking to anyone about it, as well, even if they believe that they genuinely are being abused at the hands of staff. One woman was locked up for waving to her son when she was surprised to see him on the other side of the road, according to an article in the Telegraph. It is also alleged by posters on the MailOnline comment boards (in a section of the site called ‘Femail’) that some social workers installed CCTV cameras in their bedrooms. It is clear that, on both occasions (if indeed the latter is true), that the security of the individual was not on the agenda, but rather a blanket ban on communication and movement that serves only to protect the job of the social worker, and the integrity of the social services. The same site also has contributors who claim that they are not allowed witnesses, or do not get to hear the ‘evidence’ against them. What do these social workers do, then, when they’ve won? More often than not, whoever has been taken is then put up for adoption - two siblings were taken and placed in the hands of a gay couple, although there were close relations who were willing to raise the pair. If contact is permitted between the people involved, then it is usually supervised by social services; certain topics are banned, including the court proceedings, or even what the parents think of the situation (something which makes it very easy to convince the individual that the social workers and their adoptive parents act in their own best interests). The individual cannot discuss the details of their adopted family, either, something which makes it very easy to conceal anything that they want to hide. The individuals are exposed to the will of their ‘new parents,’ with no-one to talk to if there are problems. You can use your imagination for the kinds of things that people are getting away with, although it probably takes a quick glimpse at the social worker’s paycheque to see why. The reason that the family that were mentioned above were overlooked was the government’s equality targets - total numbers of adopted children, and those adopted by gay or ethnic minority families - for which the local authorities get paid for meeting. There are financial incentives to take as many people as possible, often carefully-selected by council workers (although, to be fair, the council workers did mention the age of the two who volunteered to take in their relative’s children - 52 and 46 - as proof that they were unsuitable parents). Foster families are paid up to five hundred pounds per week, and ‘special schools’ pay up to six thousand pounds per week. Those the social services claims are ‘experts’ are paid, by the social services, anything up to four thousand pounds to write a report on a parent, and, well, you can expect what the lawyer’s fees are, when the SS has the limitless pit of public funding at its disposal. So, what happens to those who end up in care, rather than in the hands of people, the equally responsible adoptive parents? As already said, they are also banned from any non-supervised contact with their parents, and telephone calls are also restricted. In fact, they are restricted just as those who end up in adopted families are. However, there is one important difference. They are also threatened with prison if they break any of this, and they are no safer than those with adopted families. In Wales, in 2006, a hundred and sixty people who were abused in state care received a total payout of three million pounds. A third of young prisoners are among those who have been in state care, and more than twenty per cent of young girls are pregnant within two years of leaving, with over half unemployed. The overwhelming majority of them have no qualifications, and, not surprisingly, many of them are also homeless. The information about their family is still withheld by the social services. Oh, and the babies of those that become pregnant are also adopted, as are any other babies that she has. Even years after she has left the care home, she is still on a ‘list’ because she was one hauled through its doors, at the command of their local council, and an expert in their pay. This is the truth about family courts in the UK: a social services worker can appear at the birth of a baby, and take it from its parents, and offer many different accounts, each of them unproven or conflicting, as to why, and then the case is heard by a secret court, with secret evidence, and the word of an ‘expert’ who depends on one of the parties for their income. The other party has no witnesses, and there is no jury, obviously, and they are also not permitted to talk about events with their family. When the social workers are successful (which they always are), they impose a blanket ban on communication outside of a small amount of time, and they are often present at meetings to ensure that banned subjects are not discussed. They do the same to the individual, and let many of them suffer physical, verbal, and sexual abuse at the hands of their adopted parents to preserve their own careers, and committed to a life of unemployment, poverty, and having marriages banned and children taken by social services solely because they were in a care home, or because the problems that their lack of a proper education has left them with. The social services need absolutely no evidence to do that, so don’t apply the usual rule and claim that ‘if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.’ It’s false. If you have a baby, then there are plenty of people behind their marbled desks and swivel chairs that will be paid a large sum of money to take it off your hands.
The man somewhat carelessly branded a 'lightweight' by Barack Obama - yes, Barack Obama, the commissar of evaporating poll leads - is now the new British Prime Minister. Considering the US President's long track record of opposing almost anything British, this will be a special relationship. David Cameron's face is certainly a picture, or at least was when he received a phone call from the White House this morning. A beaming Barack Obama was at the other end, hoping to get the 'special relationship' back on track. That's not exactly typical of the US president, who has done everything in his power to consistently oppose British interests. The US president got something right: that the US has no closer ally than the United Kingdom. What he really meant was that his other allies put their own interests ahead of those of the US, and the UK obediently does whatever it is told. However, he'd do well to tread lightly around the Conservatives, who traditionally stand up for British interests against any opponent (Thatcher called the US out on their funding for IRA terrorists in the 1970s and 80s, and their invasion of British sovereign territory - does anyone really believe that it was an accident?). He's already called in every one of his favours, and his opposition to British sovereignty within the European Union and its continued claim to the Falkland Islands (which it was the first country to settle, and has overwhelming support from the local population to hold) is showing itself just as the magic of America's heir to Blair is beginning to wear off. As soon as former Prime Minister Gordon Brown was the first European leader to arrive in Washington after Obama's inauguration, the rift between him and his US 'ally' was obvious. There was no White House dinner, no press conference, and Brown pretty much had to prise the door open with little assistance from those standing by, according to accounts. I'm surprised he didn't land his great clunking fist on the door and knock it through: he's not known for his tact, and, frankly, I'd have done the same thing, if I'd placed nine thousand troops in a hostile environment for reasons that had no repurcussions for Britain. Obama would go on to commit many sacriligeous acts towards the British people; throwing out a bust of Churchill being the most famous, a smart-arse comment from a senior official (who, to be fair, does know the number of countries in the world) coming a close second. He would then take the side of Argentina in a long-running dispute over the Falkland Islands, and two other British territories in the Atlantic. Apparently, Obama gets most of ideas from a think tank, the New America Foundation. I suspect that someone has been putting bubble bath in their water filter - any fish that may once have been present are most certainly in that famous belly-up stage of their careers. This think tank claims that Britain would need to make sacrifices before Obama pays any attention whatsoever. How do three hundred killed in action - more than the total of the Falklands War - sound to the Obama administration, then? Out of a total of nine thousand soldiers on the ground, three thousand have been evacuated, another one thousand wounded in battle, another two thousand wounded off of the field. Now we are supposed to move to the neighbouring province of Kandahar - where British senior command suggested their soldiers should be deployed in the first place - so the Americans can build upon the mounds of exhausted ammunition and rubbish dumps left in Helmand Province. That's only Afghanistan; not Iraq. Our human rights record and international prestige (especially within what Bush referred to as 'Old Europe') has also collapsed as a result of support for the US. David Cameron, we owe Obama nothing. Quite the opposite, in fact. The US president has also admitted liability for advising Merkel on saving the Euro (he wishes...) although the European Union has stated (see the Telegraph) that we will not be bailed out in the event of an economic collapse. So, where do Barack Obama's true loyalties lie, I wonder? And, more importantly, is David Cameron going to ask him?
This has been an election of such epic proportions as to end the entire democratic process in the mother of parliaments. It has come close to doing just that on a number of occasions, even since Brown entered the door of No. 10 back in 2007 through a deal with his most despised adversary, Prime Minister Tony Blair. The three party leaders have taken us on a tour of every outcome that could possibly occur in the British electoral system: a Conservative victory, a Labour surge, a rainbow coalition of socialists, Europhiles, nationalists, and former Gaelic terrorists, and now a unity of the two parties who should be completely opposed in their idealogies, the Conservatives and Liberals. That has landed the Conservative leader, David Cameron, the third secret Scot in quick succession, with the keys. He is the definition of a Tory toff: upper class, married to the daughter of a baronet, with a family in possession of vast tracts of the Western Isles (an island archipelago across from where they were originally from, the Western Highlands). Let us hope that he is a true clansmen, and follows the motto to the letter: let us unite. For this will probably be the most chaotic time in British politics since the Winter of Discontent, and the challenges that face the leader of the country are various. They include the largest economic deficit in history (£185 billion), the largest national debt in history (£850 billion), and huge social problems ranging from rapidly rising crime (Labour's figures have been comprehensively disproven - they permitted the police to decide what they actually considered to be a 'crime,' and the result was hundreds of thousands of crimes, including assaults and other violent offences, not being recorded) to spiralling alcoholism and violence. He also faces increasing levels of public opposition to the three issues, on which none of the three major parties disagree: the economy, immigration, and the European Union, which has led to a rise in support for the BNP, a typical European far-right party with socialist economic policies, rightly considered abhorrent by anyone who listens to what they really say. The rise of UKIP, a right-wing moderate party that is famous for its opposition to further EU integration, is also a concern for the status quo, which David Cameron will have to maintain to guide the economy out of trouble (which the Conservatives have a proud record of doing). He also has a war, also fiercely criticised, which he has to turn around through strong military decisions (which will involve going against the wishes of important NATO allies). He will have regular dealings with that European battleaxe, Angela Merkel, and the comically anti-British President Sarkozy. He will have Argentina demanding access to billions of barrels of oil and three overseas territories, and Scottish, Welsh, and Northern Irish independence. He also has to manage the effects of a renewed campaign from the IRA paramilitary forces, an over-enthusiastic politicised police force, and civil unrest here, in the non-English speaking heartlands of various British nations. The first clansman of that name, Domhnall Dubh, the founder of his clan, was a welder of the peoples; he overcame a feud between four opposing tribes to join them into a single group, which has remained united ever since. That was in the face of foreign threats and domestic problems; the Lordship of the Isles demanding his allegiance to further its ambitions of an empire to unite the Celtic peoples, the old realm of Scotland requesting the support of his clansmen in distant foreign wars, and his own clansmen demanding more independence from the political manouvering of each of them. If you substitute the Lordship of the Isles for the European Union, Scotland for Barack Hussein Obama, and his clansmen for the British people, then the most powerful Cameron in the world has almost identical foreign policy problems. Cameron can do as he pleases; in the end, neither the Lordship of the Isles nor Scotland could take any action, as they also wanted to work with each other, as well, allowing Domhnall Dubh to do whatever he wanted to, as long as he paid lip service to both. I'm not trying to turn British foreign relations into something quite as simple as that, but it's probably the best broad policy for David, too. The UK needs to be a little selfish, and perhaps a little insensitive. We can no longer support the United States - our support is no longer wanted, either, as Barack Hussein Obama has repeatedly made clear. We cannot continue to enforce every legislative reform made by Brussels, or hand over exorbitant sums to support what is, essentially, a foreign currency. Any payments to the EU (other than membership fees) must be valued based on what they will give to Britain's economy through trade with the single currency which would not exist without these payments. There would be no bailout for the pound, and rightly so. It is a foreign currency to the Euro states, just as the Euro is to us. However difficult it may be with Nick Clegg on board (a European in outlook, I suspect, rather than British), we must do our best to ignore ever-increasing demands for money which we simply do not have. Now, we know little of the domestic problems of Clan Cameron when Domhnall Dubh rose from the smoke of Harlaw to unite the factions beneath one banner, but they had an economy based largely on trade with one of those states that they wanted greater independence from - the Lordship of the Isles. In the modern age, it is the European Union that we want greater independence from (not necessarily complete abandonment; the most you'll find any popular support for is an economic union, like that of Norway or Switzerland - believe it or not, Eurosceptics are not entirely opposed to the European Union, and I have weeks spent reading newspaper comments to prove this. They are simply opposed to us being the only ones to enforce expensive EU legislation, and having no democracy within the EU's reach). They had four different opposing tribes under the same leader, and they united each of them beneath the same banner, based on pressure from the Lordship of the Isles and Scotland (you can see them as the EU and the US). But the best piece of advice that history could ever give to a new leader is this: follow what people say. Newspaper comments and, yes, even sometimes journalists come up with sensible ideas. They are also the best sources of opinion that you'll find, Dave. They tell you why, as well as exactly what, people want. Don't assume that people on one newspaper support you, and others don't. It's never that simple. Domhnall Dubh would tell you as much; he hired a sennachie to write a praise poem, and he actually ended up with a comedy that led to his surname (which you now have). So, unless you want to have a similar name attached to your party's leadership, then you'll find that listening to the people works.
There's now talk of a so-called coalition of losers between the two formerly left-wing British parties, Labour (having disastrously lost the election) and the Liberal Democrats (having disastrously lost seats after having failed to set out any credible policies, despite brilliant success in the televised leader's debates). This is to the detriment of the Conservatives, by far the largest party, led by David Cameron. His refusal to budge on electoral reform (and, from his perspective, rightly so; proportional representation would lead to Labour and the Liberal Democrats consistently benefiting from hung parliaments, by declaring formal coalitions, and thus excluding the Conservatives from any election) has led to Nick Clegg (Lib Dem leader) stalling to decide whether to do a deal with the current Prime Minister (Labour). So, from the title, you are now probably wondering two things: firstly, how will there be a second election if Labour and the Liberal Democrats do a deal? Second, why exactly would they be mauled? More than half of the population voted for both Labour and the Liberal Democrats, so why would they fail to gain public support? Well, the two answers are linked. The numbers of MPs in the House of Commons in 650. The numbers of Labour and Liberal Democrat MPs is less than 326, the minimum number required for a majority government. If there is a minority government, nothing will be accomplished, and the country will probably return to the polls later in the year. To gain a majority, the parties will need to do a deal with others; namely, the SNP (Scottish National Party) and Plaid Cymru (the Welsh equivalent). That would be the end of both major party's reign in England. The reason? For their continued support in a majority government (thus avoiding holding a second election), they would effectively ban the ruling government from cutting public spending in their respective Celtic nations. England (which is already the poor relation in the United Kingdom; no parliament, no independent government, subsidies for Scotland, and no free university fees which the Scots currently enjoy, even though they pay for them) will not take too kindly to having to bear the entirety of the £850 billion pound national debt plus the £185 billion a year deficit, as well as payments to the EU and the other constituent nations of the United Kingdom. The Labour and Liberal Democrats may have to face the prospect of a massive Conservative majority in a second election, simply for the number of seats to form a majority government. If they do not form a majority government, they will have to go to the polls, and their inactivity and uselessness would have a similar effect as providing the Celtic nations with free gifts and toys. So, Conservatives, go back to your constituencies and prepare for government. Gormless McRuin and Clegg, thanks for whatever's left of the English economy - you'll no longer rule over it when the ballot boxes reopen.
The British public has delivered its verdict on the Labour government; an overwhelming 71% of them voted them out. In the end, they received two million votes less than their rivals, and took a spectacular loss of ninety seats, in a shattering defeat not seen since 1931. Yet the Labour Prime Minster, Gordon Brown, clings on as the leader of this country. It's not hard to see why. The Commonwealth has sent a delegation of election observers to its founding nation, for the first time in its history. Over fifty allegations of postal voting fraud, each of them in marginal Labour areas, have been reported already. This means that people are filling in fraudulent votes with false names and real addresses, often more than a hundred of them at a time, and sending them off. No, there are absolutely no checks on this. In fact, the votes are almost immediately thrown into boxes where they remain, with no attempt to check whether the people who signed them are even resident in the country. These incidents happened, without exception, in seats where Labour could have lost by only a few hundred votes, and, funnily enough, the Labour National Executive Committee investigated but found no wrongdoing. But this isn't the only way Labour has tried - and pretty much failed - to rig the election. They have constantly shifted boundaries of constituencies (areas which elect an MP to sit in the House of Commons) to include more poor immigrant communities and public sector workes, traditional Labour voters (the former was in fact imported solely for the purpose of voting Labour, as admitted by Andrew Neather, bringing in a million new legitimate votes for the party) in geographically smaller regions. It takes half the number of votes to elect a Labour MP than it does a Conservative. There have also been thousands of people turned away at rural voting centres (traditionally Conservative-voting areas) because the polling stations were closed (sometimes forcibly by the police), mostly in marginal seats, although polling stations in 'safe' Labour seats across the country remained open. In no democracy worthy of that name, no polling station with double the number of voting forms necessary for its constituency could run out, and postal workers are not forced to hand over sacks full of postal votes, and the councils do not overturn a decision by a judge on the basis that they do not agree with the evidence (as happened in Tower Hamlets, a good example of an African shanty, politically and demographically). Independent candidates are banned from having their ballot boxes sealed, which could explain their poor results despite a massive anti-government sentiment that carves a path across party boundaries. In Barking and Dagenham, an entire opposition party to Labour's cultural minister were wiped from the council - despite having the same number of votes nationally as they'd had in previous local elections, and the same support that they'd became accustomed to in the constituency. The cultural minister was one of the chief fraudsters of the expenses scandal, but is one of only a few of those expenses cheats in the higher ranks of any party to have held their seats. Bethnal Green had a 14.7% swing to Labour from the Liberal Democrats, a remarkable result when the latter was so popular at the time when a majority of postal votes was cast. I've heard through comments on newspaper websites (generally quite a good source of information, if you do a Google search to check any facts that might appear) that turnout was not only higher than it was at the last election, but it was actually higher than any other election in some inner-city areas: more than 110%. It just goes to show the incompetence of this Labour government, that they can import more than a million voters, create a million more on non-jobs, gain several hundred thousand votes through the practices of local government, and still lose. The most perfect waste of food known to man.
This is a poem that details the events that occured in Sutherland at the start of the 20th century. The subject is the village ruins, known as Baille na Seilg, or town of the hunt, in the area. There’s a flower on Raghnaill Ban’s croft, As there is on every house there, and the door, Is blocked by the half of the rowan shaft, That hangs its head in awe. Of the crumbled masonry, the seaweed washed ashore, That rims the island’s granite gunwales, By the castle’s tumbling walls. However, that flower was not there, as I recall, And the rowan tree once stood by the sea, Watching the roaring surf twist and hurl, Its weight at stacks of peat. For the vanished townships, the abandoned cleit, That comes across the crimson foam, At the chalk bastion’s feet. There was a ship waiting, at the head of the bay, Early on the morning of Martinmas, As its bloated hull rode the spray, Sunk in maternal bliss For its golden treasure, people who would risk, The ocean at the edge of the world, For the distant isles of mist. It came there once a year, to rest upon the sands, And at that time the islanders shared their bounty, With their imported English whisky, bland As it would be, As the taste of London cellars, tossed by the sea, Has not the appeal of Highland hearth, Brewed somewhere near Portree. But the people of the village, in their poverty, Waited for the ship’s brilliant surprise. They were desperate in their misery, And watched with eager eyes The wind dance in silver skies, Bringing with it the great square sails, That rolled in on the tide. Many years have passed, and there is no more song, No more sailors waiting in the grass; their ship is gone. There are no more stories of epic heroes, no tales, And there is no longer the sound of the wind in its sails. This was your home, but now it’s changed; The sun shines on ruins, the floor is flooded with rain, But we’ll never see the likes of you again.
The soldiers with their chainmail and tabard, plaid and targe, threw themselves with full force into a fanatic charge, with wild eyes and screaming their slogans. The front lines surged forwards with unbridled felicity, and the battlefield was drowned beneath the footsteps of so many warriors that the incredible noise of their charge was almost a continuous whir. The beat of their weapons on their shields as they ran hammered out notice of their intent, and the spears and swords brandished above their heads whistled a war rant that rang out above every other sound on the battlefield, save the war cries that accompanied it. The forest of axes and claymores flowed like water across the rough terrain, with soldiers scrambling over rocks, fallen trees, and narrow streams, hacking down dry-stane dykes and ruined remnants of sheilings, tossing aside the masonry and trampling the fireweed. The mad exultant rush gave them incredible momentum, and they soared across every obstacle on the field like a tidal wave of steel, made blood-mad and fearless by a torrent of emotions. The charge did not hold back, only gathering strength as it hurtled towards the ranks opposite, as more and more men filled in behind it with arms, banners, horses, standards, and the panoply of war. It was as if there were water, poured from an endless jug. In a magnificent crash of steel and flesh, where the multilingual war cries of both armies commingled into one repeating chant of indecipherable shouts and orders, the reckless fury carried the front ranks, gasping pikemen overwhelmed. Their weapons were splinted as they were bounced between charging gallowglasses, and a hail of blows from axes, claymores, dirks, fists, and shillelaghs came down on those that fell, while those that stood were sent skittering back, clutching entrails, their hands fumbling for their swords, most of them cut down or trampled as the rampaging horde continued, as if the row of pikes had not existed. The second line fell in similar fashion, and it wasn’t long before they were piled onto the remnants of the first line and used as a platform for the Gaelic troops to mount an attack on the third. The armoured men further back had now abandoned their pikes for their blades, trying to increase their chances in close combat, and to the considerable surprise of Micheal actually obeyed an order to launch a counter-attack. It was a pathetic attempt, as it didn’t have time to turn into a run before the two armies reached each other, but it succeeded in breaking the momentum of the gallowglass’ charge. The battle quickly became a brutal melee, with scarcely room for the wounded and slain to fall as the many weapons hacked and slashed at tightly-packed ranks, with swords being thrust through chainmail and battleaxes tearing off limbs and carving out great swathes of the battlefield, leaving nothing but scattered gore in their place. The boots of the combatants waded through pools of blood as they marched across the grass, splashing it around. Micheal turned on his heel, his steel cross sword clanging into the blade of a Campbell man-at-arms, clad in plate armour with akheton and noseguard. The guard of Micheal’s sword blocked the blow from his opponent, and without hesitation he knocked it away in a whirlwind of a parry, following up on the advantage by driving his blade through his opponent’s side and pushing him to the floor in a single move, a swift kick making sure he was down. The second kill was his kern’s - a militiaman in nothing but peasant’s clothing, wielding a spear, came screaming out of the raging melee when Micheal’s back was turned. The kern came running from the fray, and an instinctive sweep of his shillelagh knocked the militiaman back, and there was a sickening crack as his head hit a stone. The third and fourth fell together, a single slash cutting the throat of one and digging deep into the side of the other’s neck as he turned his head to call for reinforcements. His shout was cut off, and he went down trying to spit it out before Micheal’s sword finished him. But the blade found its mark only after the words formed on his challenger’s tongue, and his lips were still moving as the sharp edges of the weapon sliced his neck. “Any more coming?” Micheal demanded, grabbing his kern and pulling him away from the fiercest part of the battle, leading him through a patch of scattered private duels to where they could talk tactics. “No, that was the last, the rest are beginning to be beaten back, as far as I can tell,” the kern replied, quickly assessing the situation after he’d taken deep breaths. “There are a few knights amongst the rabble, though, Micheal, they might not rout. Until they do, I don’t think most of their subjects will, either.” “We don’t want them to rout,” Micheal said, handing the kern his blade. “We want them to be driven back into the next row of pikes. Give me another weapon, the blade’s bent. And where’s your brother?” The kern fumbled around for a bit, having to both strap the blade to his waist and take a war axe from the back of his thigh. Micheal was handed the weapon, and looked over it briefly, seeming satisfied. “And your brother?” “I don’t know,” the kern said, looking around him, on every side seeing nothing but carnage. “Why do you need him?” “I need my map of the battlefield,” Micheal explained, spitting onto the floor as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “What for? You know where we are, there’s that rock you memorised behind you,” the kern mused, indicating the boulder that was partially sunk into the mud. He waited patiently for Micheal to make himself comfortable on that rock, not really expecting an answer by the time Micheal had came up with one. “I’m not sure why Keir is bothering to defend this narrow bit of ground. It would have been a better idea if he positioned these militia further back, like he’s done with the rest of his army.” “You sense a trap, Micheal?” The kern wondered, glancing reluctantly up at the peaks behind his gallowglass. To his relief, Micheal turned to the peaks, and shook his head. “No. Not from the peaks. Seonaidh has archers up there, if anything we’re the ones trying to stage an ambush. I’m just saying that if Keir is trying to wear down our forces, there’s a more efficient way of doing it than holding up back here. The marshland is just a few meters past these militia; he could have deployed them there. They’re better-equipped for that sort of terrain than gallowglasses, they’d have the advantage.” “So what do you suspect Keir’s plans are?” “He’s keeping us at bay for as long as possible. He probably hasn’t completed deploying his forces. He wasn’t exactly ready when I looked across at him earlier. Something is taking a long time to prepare.” The kern was about to reply, but was interrupted. There was a rush of wind, and following behind it was a blast of warm air that startled him and Micheal as a contrast to the cool, damp air of the day. There was barely time to shout a warning before the barrel exploded above the battlefield with a boom that briefly drowned out every other sound of the raging battlefield. The clash of steel, the orders and the taunts, it was, for a fleeting moment, inaudible, and just as Micheal’s hearing faded back into clarity a second explosion shook the earth, making him jump to his feet with a gasp. The words snowballed, and he let them out in a loud cry, much to the surprise of his terrified kern. “Charge! Break through their lines! Rush them! Cut them down!” The gallowglasses, kerns, and clansmen who had became tangled in melee obeyed his command, as a rain of burning oil pelted down upon them, igniting the bloodsoaked grass. They finished off their duels without honour, or simply abandoned them, and mounted a scattered but synchronised rush against the ranks of militiamen. The marshland where they’d been fighting was quick to produce smoke when burned, and within only a few seconds the visibility had been reduced to practically nothing. The flames could cast sparks onto the wind with impunity, and further explosions, followed by further burning rain, would inevitably cause destruction as the Gallgaels and the militiamen commingled in the narrowest part of the glen, confirming Keir’s reasoning for deploying his men as he did. The smoke became darker as the burning flesh of several soldiers added to it, and the explosions became almost like a drumroll, in constant rhythm like the steady beat of a bardic song. They were, of course, much louder, and never failed to make the ground tremble. Soon, it became almost like running through a burning house, and could well have been if the floor of the house was also flooded. Trying to anticipate where the next barrel would deposit its payload was impossible in the near-dark; only the glittering metal of armour and weapons that happened to reflect the light of the fires was visible. Faces and identities were obscured, and the fighting slowed to mirror the confusion, moving at a ghostlike pace as the clash of two weapons became increasingly more distinctive. “Mangonels,” Micheal snarled, with obvious hatred of both Keir’s use of the artillery and how something so obvious could have been so well-concealed. “Base curs, this is his only solution to the gallowglass?” a nearby soldier asked, as he dragged Micheal, who had been shaken from his rock by a blast barely ten feet above his head, to his feet. The gallowglass was clearly trembling, either in shock or because of the almost unbroken shaking of the ground. But he was loathe to admit it, and from the way he immediately reached for his war axe it seemed that his fighting spirit had remained intact. “This is just to piss us off.”
No matter your nationality, there is something to be learned, in this age of violent intolerance, from the Hebridean sea kings who achieved complete religious and racial tolerance in the 13th century and lessened discrimination on the grounds of a person’s gender to such a degree that it was barely noticeable to foreign guests. The fact that they also achieved a golden glimpse of socialism in these distant centuries, with each social rank from retainer to thane having an equal representation on their council, is a clear indication that, rather than backwards agrarian warlords and unclean peasant classes, we are dealing with a dynamic cosmopolitan nobility and well-fed and valued clansmen and their families? The following is a summary of what I have learned from oral stories, written documents, and architectural evidence about many of the things used to determine how civilised a people are, such as the status of women, the availability of education, tolerance, and system of government. Council of the Isles It was, of course, common practice in the medieval era for kings to have parliaments. Usually, these were made up of the most powerful clergy and noblemen in the realm, as well as the king himself. They had the authority to debate the king’s decisions and make suggestions, as well as provide him with news about events in the lands under their jurisdiction. At first, the Lordship of the Isles may appear to be exactly the same. But there are very important differences. Whilst its Council included the most powerful noblemen, it also included every other level of influence in equal numbers, and the clergy were usually not present at the Council to avoid religion, in a religiously diverse society, from becoming too important. The Council of the Isles was considerably more powerful than the parliaments of other countries, such as Scotland. Everything that a Lord of the Isles proposed had to be discussed by the Council first, and the different opinions amongst the Council would argue their case to the Lord of the Isles, who would decide upon the strongest argument. However, his inauguration oaths demanded that a Lord of the Isles must act mostly on behalf of his people rather than himself, which limited his ability to simply choose the argument that he supported as the strongest. It also meant he could not use intimidation against members of the Council who disagreed with him, and that he could have his power limited further if he did otherwise. Whilst he was capable of commanding his clansmen and their families as an absolute leader, the power of a Lord of the Isles was loaned from the people, and, if the Council thought that a Lord of the Isles had broken his oath to them, they would legally be able to restrict his power and even take his power away. How would a Council know what the people wanted? There were judges for each island and administrative district in the Lordship of the Isles, whose role it was to manage the local tacksmen, who were each responsible for small villages and areas of land, and settle legal disputes. However, the local people could also ask them to take their concerns to the Lord of the Isles, as most judges were often present at Eilean na Comhairle, whether they had a seat on the Council itself or not. This brought the people’s opinions to the centre of political power, and anyone could find their question answered by the Lord of the Isles himself. This efficient system of government, whilst not a democracy (positions on the Council were chosen through tanistry), was clearly a sure step towards the socialist government in the United Kingdom at the moment. It could be argued that it was, in fact, more practical, without parties fighting for influence or legislation holding back good suggestions. Of particular interest is the fact that the clergy were not present at the Council, when the Lordship of the Isles included Iona, the centre of Celtic Christianity and an important place for Christians across the British Isles. This is likely a response to the fact that, in a state where there were many different religions and local practices of worship, the ideas of a single religious group could not be allowed to gain any more influence than the others. It was a very radical design, and not a favoured one amongst medieval Catholic leaders. But not once is religious conflict mentioned in the Lordship of the Isles, even though it was likely one of the most religiously diverse places in Europe, and we must assume that this is solely because of the lack of religious interference in politics. Racial and Religious Tolerance The Lordship of the Isles was a diverse place, with Highland Gaels making up almost half of the population, with a similar proportion of various Norse races, with the remaining amount being divided between the Irish Gaels, the Manx Gaels, and the Scots. Religiously, many of these groups had their own practices, even between different groups of Christians, and there were several large pagan groups worshipping Norse, Irish, and Gaelic-Pictish pantheons. The architecture, clothing, and languages of each were present in their communities, and some of them were monolingual with their native language. Whilst the Lordship of the Isles was not unique in being very diverse, it certainly is an example of racial equality long before such things became an issue, a melting pot before the phrase existed. Its leaders themselves were of mixed Norse-Gaelic origins. However, no records of racial conflict exist, where contemporary sources would make mention of it. If we ignore the fact that it is not mentioned in oral or written stories, it can be argued that we know nothing about the status of different races in the Lordship of the Isles. But this argument can be countered with the fact that many of the most powerful clans were mixed Norse-Gaelic, or even entirely Norse, in origin, and if they felt oppressed then they would have had the militarily capability to do something about it. Instead, these clans, the foremost of which is Macleod, became loyal supporters of Clan Donald, intermarrying with and fostering the sons of Gaelic dynasties. This is contrary to almost every other state that has existed in the last three thousand years, modern countries included, and although we do not know whether or not laws were passed against racism or religious intolerance, it does seem likely because of the complete lack of persecution. The Status of Women Gaelic society in the medieval era was a patriarchal one, although earlier Gaels had allowed women to fight in their armies and to hold important positions. However, whilst this does mean that women could not inherit land from their fathers or become leaders, it says nothing about their status in general, and this is where people who say that women had the same status in the Highlands as elsewhere are getting confused. The practice of handfasting was one of the things in which evidence for the roughly equal status of women can be found. It essentially makes forced marriage impossible, or at least forced marriage which one of the partners is not happy with. A couple would live together for a year and a day, and if, by that time, a child was born or expected, and there were no complaints from either partner, then they were married. If not, they were free to marry elsewhere. Women, although not allowed to have titles, would have to be gifted by brothers or cousins that inherited titles through tanistry, whereas in other lands they would be left with nothing. They could also do most jobs, with the exception of the military, that men were allowed to do, with many becoming famous musicians, sculptors, and actresses, whose names may be recorded in the names of places scattered across the Highlands. At home the production of clothes and of keeping the home warm and clean was shared by men and women. Women also had full access to the legal system, and were allowed to be witnesses and people who had committed a crime against them were subject to the same punishments as people who had committed a similar crime against a man. Education Whilst there was no real formal education, there were vocational schools that specialised in teaching particular talents that were accessible to everyone, although some different schools, largely military, were by far more or less accessible to different genders. Many areas became renowned for the standards of education they provided for individual professions, and often schools were family-run for generations. These schools usually required an annual donation, often of something related to what they taught. For instance, a school for Irish martial arts would possibly require weapons. Although many of the smaller schools would ask for payment from each family who had one or more people there, the larger ones would be supplied out of the rations of food and equipment allocated by the local tacksman, or many local tacksmen, and education at such schools would be almost, if not entirely, free. Elsewhere, education was paid for, and only available to male members of the upper classes. It was not formal and received little sponsorship from central government, but in practicality and accessibility the education in the Lordship of the Isles was still ahead of that of other areas.