P&J Column 15.6.17

As strong and stable as a new-born calfie in a sharny field.

View From the Midden with Jock Alexander

Weel it’s been a democratic wik in the village, specifically last Thursday nicht, during which we watched agog as cast-iron certainties of life were overturned and the natural order reverted tae the 70s. At’s richt, Skittery Wullie stood his hand in the pub. Incredible. But then oor attention strayed tae the TV abeen the bar chunterin’ on and on aboot the Election. We dinna usually involve wirsels much wi’ matters political, aside fae throwin’ things at the screen fan Michael Gove comes on, but we watched amazed as events unfolded, and Theresa May’s grip on the nation turned oot tae be as strong and stable as a new-born calfie in a sharny field.

Of course, the spectacle of a soor-faced bissom refusing tae admit defeat is nithin’ new tae us. Feel Moira is still in cherge of the local W.R.I., though efter a motion of nae confidence in her bannocks, Moira is only clinging tae power wi’ the support of yon swivelly-eyed wifie fae Tocher fa disna believe in eggs.

Though mony of us felt it served Mrs May richt efter her cavalier admission that as a youth she engaged in crop destruction. Nae a laughing metter in the village. She widnae get awa wi’ running through wheat fields here. Maistly because Wullie has his crops strewn wi mantraps. It’s an affa trachle come the hairst, but he winna be telt. Cheerio!

Struan Metcalfe, newly elected MP for Turriff and East Speyside (Whoop!)

Dear reader, it won’t have escaped your attention that there has been a significant and possibly welcome hiatus in my endless litany of gaffes, blunders and sincere apologies. In truth, I have been behaving myself impeccably, having been unanimously selected to contest the SNP stronghold of Turiff & East Speyside by the local party faithful, and with the Chairman’s fulsome endorsement ringing in my ears; ‘You’re a tattie, Mr Metcalf, but beggar’s canna be choosers’; I have been on the campaign trail, and on best behaviour.

TBH, I thought I had about as much chance of scoring as a toonser at a Cuminestown Young Farmers’ shindig, but when I came to after Thursday night’s somewhat lubricated count, it was to discover that I’m now an M.P.! As, I am told, I said in my acceptance speech, ‘Cripes!’. That result exceeded my wildest dreams, and trust me, I have had some wild, wild dreams. Particularly that one about Amber Rudd I had after I drank the worm from a bottle of Tequila in The Saltoun Inn.

Now there are a lot of reasons for my triumph, not just the fact I ‘anonymously’ deposited a bottle of Krug at the end of every farm lane between Barthol Chapel and Fochabers. I was assisted by the threat from Wee Nicola Krankie of IndyRef2, an SNP incumbent who was seen in the constituency about as often as Halley’s Comet and Labour putting up an like Ed Sheeran look-a-like fresh out of Mintlaw Academy.
So, here’s to the next 5 years. Or next 5 months. Who knows? Not I. But at this crucial time for our nation, we need certainty. And I pledge to devote myself to representing my constituents in what I know with certainty will be the very finest hostelries, eateries and places of grown-up entertainment London has to offer. Wahey!

Davinia Smythe-Barratt, Ordinary Mum

I give up. Just when the Labour renaissance in England gives us the chance to oust the ghastly Tories at last, my fellow Scots have gone blue. 13 Scottish Tory MPs? It’s harder to stomach than my chum Cressida’s pumpkin, chia and flax seed granola.

So what next? Well, some of my fellow activists in our social justice collective (It’s mostly a Face Book group, but we sometimes meet for cocktails. Great fun!) are salivating at the prospect of Mother Theresa getting the heave-ho, but Tory PMs are like weeds – remove one and another grows in its place. Unless you spray them with chemicals (which our legal team has advised us against. Spineless). But not me, I’m not prepared to sit around and wait while the Tory-DUP coalition of chaos, fund oppressive regimes, undermine our education system and remove essential worker’s rights.

So I’m going to join Milo in Saudi, (he’s now permanently resident there, for tax reasons) Fidel will go to boarding school and Emmeline is going to have a gap year in Switzerland making artisan goat’s cheese at a mountain retreat. Of course, the upshot of this is that our au pair, Snezanha, (she’s Bulgarian, but she’s marvellous) will lose both her job and her home. Another tragic victim of this heartless government.