To back up, or not to back up…

Britain should disown the US if it launched a “preventative” attack against North Korea to stop it developing nuclear weapons, according to a leading military think tank.

Is the foreword on the Sky news websites article: ‘Scenes of carnage’ if North Korea crisis escalates into war, British report warns

Sky: The unusually blunt advice from the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI), which is the intellectual powerhouse behind the UK’s military establishment, comes amid growing concerns that such an attack is being seriously contemplated by Donald Trump’s administration. They write.

Me: Oh, what is this? The “special relationship” doesn’t seem all that special now, does it? England preparing to abandon its “closest ally” when things start to look dicey; when a real sense of danger wafts through the air, England suddenly finds its resolve wanting; like a dog barking at the gate, only to high-tail it for the front door when the gate swings open. And this just shows you how much of a shit-show the Westminster government truly is; they make grand promises and assurances, and then buckle under any real pressure; they scramble from their hill of strength the moment a threat approaches.

And here was me thinking that America was our greatest ally; and so since when do allies abandon one another? Isn’t the whole point of fostering alliances solely to provide back-up for either party in the eventuality of war? Sure, trade agreements that mutually benefit either country are by-products of such partnerships, as is continuing peace; but what good is peace and trade, if one half of the deal is armed to the teeth and sailing the waves of the Yellow Sea? Is this the sort of alliance America needs; an England already planning to abandon it in what could become a major world conflict? Now of course, America really doesn’t need England, or the rest of Britain as a whole; America is a powerhouse, a giant and a god of war. So who cares, right? So what; let England scurry away like a cowardly dog, eh?

Britain (England FYI)

But then what does that truly say about any such special relationship? Of course America doesn’t need us, but does that mean that we shouldn’t stand shoulder to shoulder with them? Does that mean that we shouldn’t live and die in our convictions as a country that stands by its principles and its word? If we say we have your back, should we not then have your back, regardless even if our friend is big enough and strong enough to handle himself without us?

Sky: A RUSI report says the UK “should refuse to rush into unconditional support for US action” if the US was to attack North Korea in an attempt to prevent it from further developing the ultimate weapon of mass destruction.

Me: Now listen, anyone who is familiar with my blog will know that I’m fairly isolationist, and also don’t agree with Scotland sticking its nose into places it doesn’t belong; but Scotland is in Britain, and Britain seems to cling to the teat of America, and so much so that it peddles this notion of Britain and America as brothers-in-arms, and as the best of friends of which the English controlled media that plagues Britain as a whole often likes to force-feed us on a daily basis; so as a Scotsmen, I feel compelled to point out that if America does go to war, then so should we. It’s as simple as that, and that’s my two cents worth on the matter; we should fight alongside them come what may, and not because of some ridiculous idea of brotherhood, but simply for the sake of self-respect and honor! Otherwise what are we but cowards and back-biters on an international scale not to be taken seriously? Isn’t it funny just how hollow the English government now seems as it rolls over and offers its undulating and pendulous belly to the world? And think, what if America was to win this theoretical war, would it not then shun Britain for ever more; leaving us friendless and at the back of the cue for any resulting reconstruction contracts and positions of governance and influence on the post-war world stage? Way to think ahead, British cowards; in your rancid fear, you would potentially throw away whatever shred of credibility you have left to skulk under the desk whilst humming with your fingers stuck in your ears as you assume the fettle position.

Sky: In the report, author Professor Malcolm Chalmers writes: “(The UK) should make it clear that it had not been asked for its views in advance and that it would not have supported military action even if it had been asked.”

Me: So what? If America goes to war with North Korea, then Britain automatically becomes a target regardless of whether or not we declare a side, what with it having up until then proclaimed itself America’s chief parasite. Is North Korea, or even China, or Russia really going to care if Britain distances itself from America, when eventually it’s probably going to join the war at some point anyway? So would it not make sense then for the east to make a preventative strike of their own to thwart that eventuality? Yet, if Britain was in the fight from the very beginning, then we would at least have our guard up from the get-go, and perhaps be better equipped to deal with any such attack in the first place for having a firm grasp on who our enemy is and where the strikes are likely to manifest. War doesn’t care about gestures, it only cares about threats; Britain is a threat, whether or not it cowardly shrinks from the fray meantime, Britain would still be a threat by proxy.

Sky: “Casualties in such a conflict would likely reach the hundreds of thousands, even if no nuclear weapons were used. There could be far-reaching consequences for the global economy, involving sustained disruption of vital supply chains and markets.” 

Me: I’ll let Joseph Dunford, chairman of the US joint chiefs of staff respond to that one: “We can’t let a madman with nuclear weapons let on the loose like that. We have a lot of firepower, more than he has times 20, but we don’t want to use it… I hope China solves the problem. But if China doesn’t do it, we’ll do it”


But, at the end of the day, would America really be all that surprised by England’s lack of a spine in such tense, trying times? Of course they wouldn’t; why would they? America is well aware that all Britain is good for is bending at the waist to accommodate their’ slippered feet upon its back. America doesn’t need Britain. Britain needs America, because without them, the empire 2.0 would be steam rolled into oblivion the moment the ships left Portsmouth. So, in understanding that, you would think that the sniveling cowards down at Westminster would be prostrating their feeble bodies in an effort to clamber around America’s feet and swear allegiance to their boot-straps only to fool themselves into, and continue on, with the belief that America will make them great again.

no brainer
One is powerful, and the other thinks its powerful

Man up, or shut up; for if it was to come to blows, and then maybe even escalates into some sort of an actual major world conflict; sides will have to be taken. And I don’t know about you, but I prefer fighting fresh, than already bloody. And sure, people would die, but then, people will die whether or not they are holding a gun or not. I come from a military family, I feel I should point out; with every man all the way back and to the Jacobite risings having been a soldier, or in some branch of the military, and so would no doubt have immediate family fighting in any such conflict, yet I’m perfectly fine with that; soldiers are soldiers, and they are trained to kill and die, that’s their entire job description; and so I don’t care about projected casualties, both military, and civilian, because again, people die en masse when wars are fought between powerful entities, and that’s no reason not to fight, and it’s no reason to go back on one’s word, and its certainly no reason to abandon ones ally.

And look, I’m not a warmonger, nor do I have a Michael Bayesque hard-on for guns and explosions, but sometimes wars solve problems, or at the very least, they solve problems for future generations in hindsight. Again, I wouldn’t relish war for the sake of war alone, but from a pragmatic standpoint, North Korea is threatening world stability, it is a menace to peace and is arming itself for conflict, and so needs to be put in its place by a firm hand, and if that means war, then what other recourse is there to counter such a flagrant and openly hostile threat. Diplomacy? Please; ever heard of the catastrophic diplomatic effort known as The Age of Appeasement?

age of appeasement


Cinead MacAlpin.








Thoughts after a Night Spent In a Pub Booth in the Company of Students

You have these conversations with folk in the pubs sometimes, wherein immediately, and by those of a similar age to myself, and who most likely attend college or university, instantly decry you as a racist if you so much as voice an opinion that is against such a thing as mass immigration, or interventions, or of the sending out of foreign aid or whatever. They seem to suddenly wall themselves off then, and almost shut down, as though their own fragile sense of self and world view are such, that even the merest whisper of a pragmatic, or detached observation on the current climate and its causation’s and effects, is somehow going to herald in an apocalypse in the form of Nazi’s atop four flying panzers.

This took me ages to make on MS paint

It’s ridiculous, and it’s pathetic, and it’s infuriating, that a group of grown men and women can’t just sit in a pub and shot the shit for a time, without a number swooning at only the most flirtatious of forays into the world of politics. When did men stop being men, and start being limp-wristed half-men and weaklings? I’m in my mid-twenties, and even I remember a time before this sudden reversal in society’s advancement, and that is what this is; the degradation of society through censorship, fascism and the self-aggrandizing egotistical need of some to have their own ingrained narcissism cloaked as virtuousness; where no one person can seem to look outside of the rhetoric force-fed them by those desperate to seem heroic or worth something, and who so take the easiest root to this position in the form of conceited virtue signaling. They don’t have to fight for it, and really face no danger, nor hardship. They are heroes for the sake of all around them fearing nonexistent conflict. They are raised aloft on shaking shoulders by others who draw strength from a movement that is inherently compromised by weak individuals, and so thrusts them no further against anything that would truly be worth fighting against. Simply put, they are cowards who try and look big and brave flailing at monsters entirely of their own design.

sjw imagination

Whelp; Just this past week, in fact, I happened to have taken an impromptu sojourn down through to Auld Reekie; not the cheapest place for a simple man to find a drink mind you; but there I found myself nonetheless. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with that particular city, Edinburgh is wonderful; historically, and architecturally. Yet; were it not for the odd Saltire or tacky gift shop, then one would be hard pressed to declare the city as of Scotland at all; tourists everywhere, and accents, wherein no two are alike, gathered in squares, and collected from all around the world. It’s a cosmopolitan city, like London, only prettier, safer, and, well, better. Anyway; I arrived their early, and got to the drinking likewise. And soon I found myself in the company of a handful of students; artsy types with pube-like goatees and foppish haircuts mid-way between styled and wind-tussled; not exactly the sort of folks in whose circles I would usually walk, but the afternoon started out well enough I suppose; a wee bit o’ banter, banal chatter and some laughing here and there, but then, the conversation soon encroached upon the fringes of politics, and where suddenly, all of these sallow, sunken eyed vegans all at once became the liberal equivalents of Alex Jones; only without the endearing guilelessness that make his mad rants amusing.

alex jones
Alex Jones: Topless and having just finished his dinner

There was talk of Brexit, of course, and of the EU; Syria and the resulting refugee crisis; the usual fodder for such lofty patrons to dissect, as was my company, and whose very identity as students alone, seemed to compel them to the highest echelon of obnoxiousness even before the first drink. Now all of this I could tolerate, for I have much to say on these things also, and yet; sitting there in a nice pub in Scotland’s fair capital, I was soon subjected to ill-informed, half-hearted and stunted ramblings on, and misguided understandings of one, Donald J Trump, and by a group of sickly looking students, who, at several points would pause, needing prompts and coaxing from the others when the limits of their understandings and opinion were found wanting after the first reiteration of the buzz lines circulating within their Facebook feeds; Donald Trump; who has nothing to do with them, nor I; Donald Trump, a man from another country who has no effect on their day to day lives, whatsoever. Oh what an absorbing and cerebral discourse it proved to be.

The School of Athens by Raphael
The School of Athens by Raphael

Now, what is my point here, and why did this annoy me so much? Good question and I’ll tell you. It annoys me because it has nothing to do with us. Whoever is in the Whitehouse has absolutely no effect on Scotland whatsoever! None at all; it’s all but virtue signaling and the vapid, self-absorbed circle-jerking of ones ego in the eyes of a castrated choir preaching the same hymn to affect outrage at his being elected. And also, I just can’t abide shallow parasites. Now look; America doesn’t care about Scotland all that much, and truth be told, Scotland doesn’t care all that much about America; in the same way as we don’t really bother with Papua New Guinea, or the Antarctic; we are but ships in the night, not wishing harm upon the other, but just indifferent in the passing, and not all that interested in dropping anchor and hopping aboard the others vessel. There is no ill will behind it, but America is, simply put, a behemoth content to stomp about its hill for a time, whereas we are the foxes whom have no real business commenting on the affairs of giants. And so who are these idealistic liberals to congratulate one another’s self-serving opinions born of the most basic of sound bites parroted as they heard them on the news that morning, to be so quick to proclaim virtue and honesty, love and compassion, and yet descend upon me with feeble claws the instant I should deviate from their indoctrinated path?

“Donald Trump’s a fascist” One sneered, yet offered no substantial proof to that effect. “Really? But he isn’t the one punching people, or clubbing their skulls in with bike-locks because they espouse a different opinion” I replied, in that same flat, vaguely incredulous tone of voice one would adopt if conversing with a drunk houseplant. “He’s racist” Came another; the pretentious little shits eyes bloodshot, yet no less menacing beneath his dandy fringe of curly brown hair. “How?” I speared. “Cause of the ban; man…” He parried deftly; unaware that Barack Obama did the exact same thing previously. And when he was told of this, well, up went the blinkers and down came the fascist soviet hammer, though admittedly in the fashion of a tired old dog sitting in the park and refusing to move; to scoot an inch in any one direction as its owner tugs and coaxes gently at the leash, as I was apt to have found myself then attempting, and all the while thinking who cares, and, why are we even talking about this shit? And, what has any of this nonsense got to do with us? In my attempt at remaining impartial and objective, it was I who was painted as the fascist, and it was I who was deemed the bigot for not taking up their outrage, and for playing devil’s advocate so as to ingratiate topics and points into the conversation by which to enliven and expand it into something interesting and thought provoking.

Side note: Not once did I challenge any opinion vomited fourth, but simply offered a differing one. I was respectful, and only slightly sarcastic, and never raised my voice above a speaking level when addressing any of these rabid little runts. And yet, these principled and virtuous souls were comfortable with yelling and shouting me down when I was presumptuous enough to offer up an actual verifiable fact to the contrary of that currently farted out into their echo chamber. I should also note that I was the only one in that booth who appeared robust enough to overcome constipation, without blowing my rib cage and spine out through my arsehole in the process.

Anyway, let’s get back on with my tortured dog metaphor; a dog needs discipline, and if you baby it, it won’t listen, nor respect you. You have to be both fair, and firm. You don’t pussy-foot around a stubborn dog like it’s a baby taking its first teetering steps, and so neither should you pussy-foot around faux intellectuals and half-men who see merit in subservience and cowardice, and who couldn’t look their own cock in the eye if they needed to drink their own piss to stave of dehydration in the desert! And so, the point of this meandering, and somewhat rambling rant is this: I just don’t understand what’s happening to my generation. When I was under twenty, all the lads wanted to be seen as men, and most of the lassies wanted to be with a man. There was none of this degenerative and regressive bullshit back then, folk just got on with their daily lives and didn’t take too much offence to every little fucking thing that happened to irk them that day. I don’t want this American phenomenon of SJW half-men infecting Scotland with its insidious, rotten, and hypocritical ideology. But, I understand that America exports its culture worldwide; cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes, and Hollywood blockbusters and whatnot; and that’s all fantastic! But for God sake; Keep that abhorrent and emasculating dogma to yourselves lads, because quite frankly; it’s fucking embarrassing.

sjw logic
SJW’s diminishing the devastation caused by rape

And so, I couldn’t believe that there I was, in Scotland, and listening to these insufferable idiots drone on with barely a constructive argument among them; and I looked at them and thought; you know what, this world is going to eat you all alive; but then realized that no, in fact, it isn’t, because this is the way the world is actually heading; effeminate men too afraid to ask a girl out, and women who think being overweight is a good thing; wee bairns being told they’re fairy’s and he-she’s and all manner of sundry other fanciful things, when they should be told what they are firmly, and leave the soul searching and identity crisis’s for a time when their brains are fully developed enough for them to process the multitude of urges and emotions, hormones and psychological conundrums such thoughts must surely bear.

Now listen; I’m all for equality among the sexes, and of gay marriage; each to their own; do what feels right, and be who you gotta be, and all that. My belief is that one should live one’s life, and do so in a manner which makes life worth living in the first place. I don’t care if your gay or straight, transgender or whatever; I simply don’t care; that is, as long as you don’t try and force it down my throat and make trouble where no such trouble occurs. You aren’t freedom fighters battling against a tyrannical oppressor. You aren’t civil rights campaigners risking life and freedom in a dire struggle to pursue equal rights and liberty. You don’t face any adversity that can’t be overcome by hard work and the setting and following of personal goals. You are just a bunch of whiny little shits with too much free time on your hands, and who are fortunate enough to live in countries where your sniveling rhetoric is tolerated. Get over yourselves, get a job, and maybe try and contribute to changing society in a meaningful way, say, as a soldier, or a UN peacekeeper, or as a politician who can actually affect change in a rundown or deprived area. But no; that would be too much like hard work now, wouldn’t it?


Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth’– Matthew 5:5. And right enough! And has the Bible ever prophesied a more concrete conclusion in all its years than that particular doozy?

Cinead MacAlpin.

Throwing stones in glass houses


‘-Your clan names, your popular culture was imported by the Gaels, from Ireland’

Ah, tah bay shore boyo! But seriously, Clans, they don’t exist in Ireland. It’s as simple as that, so why are you trying to take credit for them? I don’t give one fuck if you have family names in Ireland, they still aren’t Clans; why? Because the Clans you’re thinking off, are Scottish Clans, which happen to be the only type of Clans in the world. Why is this? Because we took familial names, loose tribal confederacy’s of blood and bondage between chieftains and their people, and turned it into a paragon of our culture. Tartans, Kilts, Clan badges, crests, motto’s and war-cries; these are all a product of Scottish Clans, because we made it so. We turned these family names into something more, rather than letting them simply remain names.

Do you understand that? And do you also understand that the English have familial surnames common to groups of people, and of regional specificity. Yet, just like the Irish people having common or shared ancestral or regional surnames, they also did nothing with them, other than bear them. See, any culture in the world with a similar naming structure as Britain, could just as easily have developed a similarly unique familial structure of common, or perceived commonality among its population, as Scotland had, and continues to do so. Just because Ireland and Scotland are similar, and just because Ireland gave us our language, and the suffix Mac to signify ‘Son of’; in no way gives you the right to lay claim over anything Scottish as a result, and certainly not the Clan system.

For example; does England get to say they landed a man on the moon, simply for having been the Americans’ foundational ethnicity?

Moving on, and of course, Whiskey’ and Scots Gaelic’ are mentioned. Whelp, first off, it’s Whisky, not Whiskey. Whiskey, in fact, applies only to the iodine the Americans are so fond off, and to your own inferior brand of mouth wash. Secondly, according to Wikipedia:

The art of distillation spread to Ireland and Scotland no later than the 15th century, as did the common European practice of distilling “aqua vitae” or spirit alcohol primarily for medicinal purposes. The practice of medicinal distillation eventually passed from a monastic setting to the secular via professional medical practitioners of the time, The Guild of Barber Surgeons The earliest Irish mention of whisky comes from the seventeenth-century Annals of Clonmacnoise, which attributes the death of a chieftain in 1405 to “taking a surfeit of aqua vitae” at Christmas. In Scotland, the first evidence of whisky production comes from an entry in the Exchequer Rolls for 1494 where malt is sent “To Friar John Cor, by order of the king, to make aquavitae”, enough to make about 500 bottles.

So, form the above, what can we confer? Well, the earliest mention of Whiskey in Ireland was written down in the 1600’s, but concerns the 1400’s; whereas, in Scotland, we have actual evidence of it having been in production in 1494, from actual records from that period. Also worth noting, is the fact that Scotch, as is the proper denomination for Scottish produced Whisky, and Irish Whiskey do not in fact originate in either country, and is not, and was not, a product of a Gaelic mind. That is a fact. But, because Scotch is so popular, but the Irish also make it, but don’t always get credit for that one pointless boast, this individual simply seems to be butt hurt that Ireland isn’t getting the same attention as Scotland is in that particular thread of random comments, on a random YouTube video.

‘The Pictish peoples that populated the land that would later be named Scotland DID NOT HAVE this naming convention’

387–412: Talorc mac Achiuir: Pictish King of the 3rd century; his rule occurring two hundred years before the establishment of the Gaelic Kingdom of Dal Riada. Make of that as you will. Also, who cares if the suffix Mac, or Mc, arrived in Scotland from Ireland? We have Gaelic blood, ancestry and heritage, and what of it? Does that make an Irishman feel smug? Does that somehow prove something, that we Scot’s have a good portion of our identity inexplicitly entwined with that of ancient Ireland, suddenly makes all of our culture yours for the taking? It was millennia ago that our Gaelic ancestors left Ireland, by the way; you realize that? And the Gaels weren’t even Irish, they were Gaels, you realize that also; yes? Don’t try and tear down my fucking culture, because you’re also on shaky fucking ground, my Irish friend:

Gaelic Ireland (Irish: Éire Ghaidhealach) was the Gaelic political and social order, and associated culture, that existed in Ireland from the prehistoric era until the early 17th century. Before the Norman invasion of 1169, Gaelic Ireland comprised the whole island. Thereafter, it comprised that part of the country not under foreign dominion at a given time. For most of its history, Gaelic Ireland was a ‘patchwork’ hierarchy of territories ruled by a hierarchy of kings or chiefs, who were elected through tanistry.

Did you read that part about the 17th century, and the bit about the Norman invasion? See, Ireland isn’t perfectly Gaelic, and it would be so, so easy for me to point out just how drastically it wasn’t always Gaelic at numerous stages of its history; the 9th century Vikings, for instance, who founded many settlements along your coastlines, inlets, and waterways, that then became your first major towns; the populations of which would have been partly Norse. Or what about the five-eight hundred or so years of English occupation, eh:

After the Norman invasion of 1169–71, large swathes of Ireland came under the control of Norman lords, leading to centuries of conflict with the native Irish. The King of England claimed sovereignty over this territory – the Lordship of Ireland – and the island as a whole. However, the Gaelic system continued in areas outside Anglo-Norman control.

In 1542, Henry VIII of England declared the Lordship a Kingdom and himself King of Ireland. The English then began to conquer (or re-conquer) the island. By 1607, Ireland was fully under English control, bringing the old Gaelic political and social order to an end. – Wikipedia

Oh, what’s that; Gaelic culture was all but wiped out in Ireland for several hundred years! Oh my! So much for Irelands fabled ‘warrior heritage’…see how I smoothly segued that part in there…But honestly, seriously, speaking of warriors and warfare, Scotland kicked Irelands arse several times, in fact, out of roughly five major conflicts between our two countries, Scotland won either four, or three out of five. Sure, you fought England, but they fucking conquered you lot, completely, and for several centauries; that’s nothing to be proud of boys. Scotland, however, was never conquered, by any one. Rome couldn’t do it, nor could the Danish Vikings, Anglo-Saxons, Normans, or the English! Hell, the Vikings were terrified of us Scots, and so much so that they went ahead and wrote what amounted to pamphlets warning others of their kind from even traveling to Scotland, such was the danger from the ferocious and war-like natives! ‘Warrior heritage’? Really; we Scots have dominated battlefields all across the continents. American four star generals have written books about the courage and valor of the Scottish soldier. The French kings, and Viking ones, used us as bodyguards; The Garde Écossaise:

The Scottish leaders were persuaded to return to Scotland to recruit more troops. The Scottish leadership returned in 1420 with another 4000-5000 reinforcements. While their leaders were at home the Dauphin assigned the Scottish contingent throughout his armies and garrisons and picked a number, roughly one hundred of the best warriors, to be his personal body guard. The Scotsmen fought with distinction throughout France with a notable win at the Battle of Baugé in 1421, where the Duke of Clarence was said to have been felled by Buchan’s Mace.

And what of the Gallowglass mercenary’s, mainly MacDonald Clansmen? Those Scottish-Norse warriors dominated Irish battlefields for decade, after bloody decade; Scottish soldiers sorting out problems the native Irish couldn’t stomach. Should I go on? There’s Sir John Hepburn and the Green Brigade; look him up, as he was described as ‘The Greatest fighting man in Christendom’ or what about the 92nd, or the 73rd? What about the Redshank mercenaries? What about the terror Scottish soldiers struck within the hearts of the Nazi’s during WW1/2; do the ‘Devils in skirts’ ring a bell? What about the lone Scottish soldier who captured six hundred Germans, single-handedly. Or the last bayonet charge mounted in modern history, wherein around fifteen to twenty Scottish soldiers, out of ammo, and with only fixed bayonets, charged around thirty Taliban insurgents after their armored personal carrier had been struck by a rocket launcher; of those thirty well-armed insurgents, all had been killed, with only one Scotsman wounded. Did I forget to mention that the Taliban still had a fucking rocket launcher on them! I can keep going by the way, after all; you’re the one that started this pissing contest, à la ‘It’s a shame you Scots didn’t also borrow this part of Irish culture’- the funniest thing an Irishman has ever come away with, since they decided that ‘crack’ was spelt ‘Craic’ and that it was a magical fairy word meaning merriment and mirth. It’s not, BTW

Anyway, now feels like as good a point as any to state that Scotland eventually joined with England, not through conquest, but political scheming, whereas Ireland was utterly beaten into submission by them. Yet this guy, he thinks that just because his people finally, eventually, got around to freeing themselves of the English, means that they’re somehow now totally bad ass, you know; for doing something that Scotland did consistently, and for centuries beforehand. Remember lads, you lot were under the boot heel, but we Scots were just under the thumb; and through it all, all that struggle and strife, repeated attempts at conquest and decimation, attempted cultural genocide and suppression of native identity; we Scots retained our dignity, and our pride! We remained on our feet! We never knelt, nor bowed our heads!

Now, to any Irish person reading this; listen. I’m proud of my ancient Irish heritage, as all Scots should be. I’m proud, and grateful, that Ireland shared its beautiful language with us, and lastly, I’m also proud of the enduring bond our two wonderful countries share, but; if you want to try and tear down my heritage and culture, then you make sure you’re standing on solid fucking ground first.


“My Staff Has Murdered Giants”

From the 45 who voted to re-establish the Scottish nation, and to those who would fly the flag and enjoin hands in Auld Lang Syne, and yet tug it downward whence the chorus commenced; wherein our story, could the promise from a snake so sway opinion against the better judgement of history? Were we not fortified against such machinations; such coercion’s and toils an aw tha; that treason couldn’t sell us, even in this interconnected world? What luck to wish for!

Farewell to all our Scottish fame, and farewell our ancient glory. Farewell even to the Scottish name, so famed in marshal story!” Some would relent. Yet what is patriotism against a well-worn government, when your own is powerless to act against such opposition?

“Such a parcel of rouges in a nation” Others would de-cry! But deny themselves’ the realization that it was the very nation of which they hold so dear, whom had sold themselves for a pittance and petty promise. Who do we have to blame for our sorry state of affairs; truly? “That I saw the day, that treason thus would sell us. My old grey head was lain in clay; with Bruce, and loyal Wallace-“ What words! Evocative, rousing and inspiring; yet only when Auld Lang Syne, or Flower o’ Scotland bears down upon the ear; Whisky mist and swimming pride; buoyed by the presence of Scottish voices intermingled with that hollow, Sunday Nationalism!  Who indeed, today, would lay their old grey head within such vaulted clay?

What is it we actually fear; an afternoon wherein our rolling heads are but a spectacle to amuse the Queens garden party? Are we not past the point of endurance; are we not resolved to cry traitor and set our country free! “Freedom and right!” Treason and crowns, and all such glimmer should neither distract us, nor detract our shrug of the Saxon! For when has a crown, even gold or platinum, ever instructed a Scotsman beyond that which he was willing?

Never! For, over two thousand years, we have wiped out their best fighting men; Saxons and Normans; Romans; Danes and Norwegians; not one of them could conquer us; us savages’ and beasts! For our entire history, as a people, a nation, a culture; we have feared no betrayal to the Saxon. Not once have we ever shunned their intentions; not once! We had fought them every time; outnumbered five-to-one, even; victorious in each dance! But even still, our nation is plagued with foul blood; Unionists and Monarchists; Orange Order thugs, and Rangers supporters. Protestants, and quislings; that my own protestant blood curdles to be thought among their sickly number! If my hand was to be forced, then I would clutch the badge of Celtic, over Rangers, and hold it to my chest as the punches rained down. Were it not for my Kin, then I would accept the Romany Faith in my heart; that I would be one step closer to all those who had set to see my country free. Catholic, Irish-Catholic, Protestant, and everywhere in between; are we not Scottish in blood and name, that we might see ourselves set apart as Scottish men?

Apparently not. Even when every page has been gilded with suffering and plots; that the book weighs upon the arm just to turn the page; we forgive and we forget. We forget that we are the most downtrodden people alive. That we alone, are the only people to have ever held the key to our shackles, and thus swallowed it dutifully. “What force Argyll could not subdue, through many war-like ages. His rod now by a coward fear, for hiring coward’s wages-“ Why wouldn’t we have wanted freedom? This I ask openly and honestly, as a man who couldn’t conceive of ever voting against such a thing. Is the bond so fast that one would feel a kinship to the Saxon? The very same which only two hundred years ago, we had sat upon our hills and watched, merrily, as they died of the Bubonic Plague? The very same that has dogged us every step of our existence? Will our country survive this millennium, this century; or will we succumb wholly to the corruption of spirit that is “Britishness!”

Will we ever be a nation again? Or will we simply placate ourselves with the idea that “As Long As There’s One Hundred O’ Scots Remain Alive” Someone else will secure our future! “Or Tae Victory!” Shall we cry, “Chains and Slavery. Wha will be a traitor knave, wha can fill a cowards grave, wha sae base as be a slave; let him turn an flee. Wha for Scotland’s King and Law, freedom’s sword will strongly draw; free men stand, or free men faw; let him follow me! Scots wha hae wie Wallace bleed, Scots wham Bruce has aften led, welcome tae your gory bed; or tae victory! By oppressions woes and pains, by yer sons in servile chains; we will drain our dearest veins, but they shall be free! Lay the proud usurper low; tyrants fall in every foe; liberty’s in every blow; let us do or die! Scots wha hae wie Wallace bleed, Scots wham Bruce has aften led, welcome tae your gory bed, or tae victory!”

And so wherein lays the source of this self-destructive fear, or doubt? A genuine question. What could so sell Scotland, and your Scottishness, that you would trade it all for the moniker: British? Is there no inspiration in our own language; our stories or legends; that would give you pause if only you took the time to acknowledge them? Can you not find even a glimmer of hope, or creativity, within the example of those who came before; their innovations within, and teachings of Mathematics; philosophy, and science? “By yon bonnie braes and by thine bonny banks” Are you so blind to the value and worth within your own self, that the accomplishments of your people fall so dully upon your heart!

To any Scotsman or woman reading this; this question is meant solely for you to answer: If all was to end badly, then would you stand by your own folk; or allow the inevitable to paint you as a coward? Should your nation be threatened; would you cover your eyes and submit, or die in the ruins alongside your people?

I love Scotland. From her velvet green thighs, to her fearsomely craggy curves which lie between tranquil Lochs, and vulgar hips; mountains spurring to thrust at the sky amid rolling landscapes of bog, bracken and thistle. Lovely eyes as moody as midnight, or serene as silver bands; she remains, calm and modest in her own magnificence, and as a revelation to the waning spirit as any joy therein. Scotland is my mother; wet-nurse, and companion. And I will always love her more dearly than life itself. Pray to God that I should never require reason enough in which to prove that statement. Scotland to me is truly life itself.

And now I ask you again; were your life to be threatened by the barrel of a gun aimed for your head; would you kneel before the gun as a coward; or, attempt to beat to death with your fists, the very fucker who’s pointing it at you?

I for one would want to die in such a manner! To find myself with nothing to lose; all odds against me, and with the guns of an overwhelming enemy arranged there against! For there is a glory in that; honor! To grin at your foe, and to let him know that no fear lies within your heart; no worry constricts your pulse in that intimate moment! To look him in the eye as you curse his name, and then launch forward to receive the executioners writ.

Cinead MacAlpin.

P.S. lads, and lassies; I assure you all that this is but a plea, and no threat. For I but pass with light intention; through this fair land of ours; a place of noble thinkers, scholars and great drinkers.

Nationalism, in the mind of a nationalist

It’s the racing through life to strive for a goal in recognition to that of your ancestors; to seek a worldly vindication; the confirmation of the values one holds dear that match an example left over; to fulfill a feeling, civic or personal, nationally or individually; to complete or uphold some tangible purpose, or to find affirmation in your beliefs in the proving of action or thought that enjoins the values of the nation into which your blood was sown. Nationalism is the continuation of an idea, simply put; the coalescing of a point wherein the awakening moment of national conscience spreads to envelop, or expand upon, the zeitgeist of the populace, and in turn, helps to further the goal, or perceived destiny, of the idea of a people or culture, nation or ethnicity in regards to internal or outside influence contested against it. It is the idea that one thought preoccupies the collective mind of a nation above all else and in disregard to another; or at least a portion of that nation, in an effort to achieve some definite point in the future; a goal to demand, or work toward that inspires, and conjoins, the motivation of a collective in endeavoring to realize a certain manifest destiny; i.e. independence.

Wha sae base as be a slave‘ is a line taken from a Robert Burns poem, Scots Wha Hae; a wonderful poem that encapsulates the feeling of many a modern Scotsman today; and yet it is not the inherent modernity of the poem’s message that we should focus on here, but the message intended for those of the time it was published; to the Radical movement, as part of a British government crackdown during the French Revolutionary Wars, wherein France declared war on the Kingdom of Great Britain, on 1 February 1793. It was a message intended to stir up feelings of national pride and awareness, out with those of Britishness, for the English to die in the effort of subduing the mighty and chivalrous French, rather than Scots serving once again as shock troops for a disinterested army bent on using up such stock in the game of empires; a result of increasing strength for the victor; a weakening stance for the participant; i.e. Scotland.

When one expends his life for another, without gain for the nation for which bore his blood; should glory be found in dying valiantly for the oppressor, or in the refusal to move upon his word? Standing and dying to refuse such imperial demands, to withstand it all for the chance to maintain fields and crops against such lofty notions as conquering; surely, in the moments between blind subservience, a man should fight only when he is required; and not when it is demanded of him without merit, or provocation. Glory stands to be won by those who strive against all odds to win it; not by those who know nothing of loss, and whom command a score to take it without personal consequence.

Nationalism is the consequence of division; a division resulting from a source of truth; the defining of a people from the mud of civilization; of Gaels and Picts from that of Angles and Saxons. It is the refusal of having ones’ identity obscured by that of another; to remain a distinction to the rapid domination of outside influences. It is a continuation of a fight that has been raging for millennia; a struggle between factions of differing ideals and culture that might once have been similar, but have long been divided by the differences thrust upon one another by the inherent circumstances of being factions of differing ideals and purposes; regardless of how close such factions are to become.

Nationalism is a component of identity, and identity is a component of culture; that which joins a population of peoples beneath one banner, so to speak. But in modern circumstances, such modern nationalism can easily lend itself to Blood and Soil nationalism; of which I can be readily accused. I don’t doubt that, nor do I dispute that; I’m a product of my beliefs, and my upbringing; in my mind, a Scotsman should die for his country. There is no other option other than such a sacrifice; to die and be accountable for ones place in society; it should be a contract, to further the cultural will of one’s nation; of ones people. It isn’t a modern ideal, nor thought; but one that I myself cannot escape as modern as the world in which I inhabit is; the idea of following Wallace toward the pursuit of freedom and liberty for the Scottish people; my people, is something that tugs fervently at my thoughts often; despite even the impotence of inaction of which plagues any such urges with the morality thrust upon me by the age in which I live.

Nationalism is the compulsion to see a result achieved for a country; to be a part of, or to see won, the resulting fate of an entire people and nation. To push in a direction that swerves all hindrances, and settle upon a path wherein one can send all hope upon a road to clear skies and toward fertile fields, in return for bountiful payoffs and profit honestly won. Nationalism is pride, and pride is no more a sin than joy. Pride is why nations exist. Pride is why flags fly, and why language continues in all of its hues and colorful variety. Pride is not a fault, and should be encouraged. Without it, the world would be no more than a collection of slate-grey monotony devoid of individuality or character. It is not to the exclusion of others that such nationalism exists, for many in this world are rich and wonderful in culture and design; but if one can appreciate the outside world, then surely one can also appreciate that which lies closer to home.

Scotland was the warrior; the backbone; the veritable shock-troop of an empire. We were the blood and the flesh, the cushion to withstand against the outer influences of an array of enemies. Wave upon wave, did we stand, to receive all; to fight and die for what, for where lines once stood ever changing; an inch or more. Whilst some might be willing to trade steps with their fellow man, I would be willing to just take a step forward. Yet, more importantly, Nationalism of the blood and soil sort, should utterly transcend such meaningless matters as gay and straight; for what does it matter to me should the man to my right be gay, when all he needs do is fight alongside me? What Scotsman would forsake his brother if such kin would follow his own path, to be gay or bisexual; that is no hindrance to fulfilling ones place in such manifest destiny; whether you’re gay or lesbian, Scotland is the soil in which your blood takes root. It is the rock and dirt through which you yourself found the light of creation; to grow strong and tall among the lofty example of such champions glory as Bruce and Wallace, Montrose, Galgacus, MacColla, Kenneth, MacBeth, MacPherson, Le Hardy, and the Good Sir Douglas. Of all the detrimental attitudes found within such nationalism as I myself might be charged guilty of, this one has to be the issue I simply cannot bear the most, and one I bring up only as a second thought amid this patriotic musing.

Nationalism to me, ultimately screams out for some great sacrifice; a goal or purpose that sets all ideals and dreams in the sphere of actions, big or small; whose end game is one of unison; a spark that lights the tinder. And dear God, that I would die in fire but to see my people free; to see them free in every sense of the word; I would tackle all within my limited power to manifest such destiny. And yet, such conviction has been tempered by the perverse conjoining of such national ideals as sport and identity. When an English person wins, they are English, and when they win, despite them being Scottish, they are British; but when they lose they are Scottish only. This is our role; to prop the national psyche of the English; our entire relationship as unified nations boiled down to a single petty fault; a bug-bear at most. But, I often wonder, that outside of this train of hypothetical and philosophical idealistic thought; would I really be willing to leave behind everything; to have my life ended so abruptly and at such a young age; done before it was started, wifeless and childless? Would I truly be willing to sacrifice it all, and all of that which might lie before me still? Yes. Something in me says yes. I don’t know why; perhaps I’m just wired differently; but it holds no fear for me. It is worth it.

My dream, ultimately, is for Scotland to just be free. To lead an existence like that of so many other nations; to take root and flourish; to step on no ones’ toes, nor seek to dominate, or tell others how they should live their lives. I don’t care about empires or influence, nor do I care about the global reaching and maintaining of some pathetic notion of now long dead power. Neither does Scotland; she never has, content only to defend fiercely when aggression was threatened, and be peaceful for the sake of peace. Scotland should be herself; ever beautiful, peaceful, and free once again.

Cinead MacAlpin.

Co-dependence: a wonderful foundation for identity

Well, well, well; it has been a good long while since I had a wee rant about some such trite issue or another, of which, for reasons known only to me and my psychiatrist, I’ve once again chosen to take personally. Beneath, is the title of the question asked, and beneath that, in italics, is what was asked, with my response beneath that; layers, so, so many layers.

Why do Scottish, Welsh and Irish always deny themselves as British, hate England and brag about their culture?

I’ve noticed a lot of Welsh, Irish, Northern Irish and Scottish people always deny themselves as part of Britain, a lot of them hate and criticise England, are disgusted by being under the same category as it, and from what I’ve seen online, almost every Irish, Scottish and Welsh person brag about their culture, have usernames related to it and go on and on about themselves and their country.

Do you see me or any English people coming online, slagging off the Welsh, Irish or Scottish, writing stuff in Cornish, going on about English history and pride in our culture and giving ourselves usernames to do with England? NO, YOU DON’T.

Me: Woah, whoa there buddy; no need to raise your voice…

It’s OK to love your culture and take pride in your country, I do take pride in England and I also have admiration for the Scottish, Welsh and Irish and I do truly feel that we are all British united (Ireland needs to join Britain, they’re just making excuses to not be involved with the English because its a self-obsessed nation). We’re all part of the same thing and I don’t know why non-English Brits or Irish hold things against us for events that happened centuries ago, or deny themselves to be connected to us and part of Britain and thinking of Britain as “England” simply. I find it unfair.

Me: Well firstly, being British is simply an idea, an exercise in thought. It is the name applied to the union, which then lends itself to those within that union. However, the term Scottish is actually an ethnic and culture identifying moniker for the Scottish people/those of Scottish heritage. Secondly, as to why (some) deny ourselves the glorious and storied moniker: British; is because it is a meaningless blanket term foisted upon individual nations whose differences are glaringly evident, and which serves no true purpose other than to confuse Americans and other foreigners as to just what in the hell Britain and the U.K are. But then, even had we all been but wobbling and gelatinous blobs devoid of any distinguishing features or character, shuddering pathetically all across the land from Orkney down to Cornwall, the name still would have been the only thing uniting us.

‘I’ve noticed a lot of Welsh, Irish, Northern Irish and Scottish people always deny themselves as part of Britain-‘

Me: Scotland is (Unfortunately) a part of Britain, as in it exists upon the landmass of the ‘British’ isles (As does Ireland, technically/Geographically), and no one disputes this; not even a die-hard nationalists such as myself. But, we all know that isn’t really what you meant, don’t we pal.

‘-a lot of them hate and criticise England, are disgusted by being under the same category as it’

Me: Well, in modern times, it maybe has something to do with the twisted, biased English-run media acting like the greasy and odious fog horn of the British propaganda department 7 days a week that irritates us (All links at the bottom). Or maybe it’s all of the economic hardships endured during the 70’s and 80’s that did the trick; Poll tax? Closing of shipyards? Or could it be the blatant loathing of Westminster that we take issue with? Who knows! Could it simply be down to all the nippy, and sometimes openly hostile little jabs that get flung our way at every opportunity; the venomous contempt of David Starkey and Katie Hopkins chief among them, and of which is so routinely given a platform. Or, could it have something to do with the general fucking ignorance of English people that engenders in them a type of insufferable, haughty, and wholly undeserved sense of superiority which slightly fucking annoys a lot of us Scots? I dunno, take your pick.

‘-from what I’ve seen online, almost every Irish, Scottish and Welsh person brag about their culture, have usernames related to it and go on and on about themselves and their country.’

Me: Pride? Bragging? Useeeerrrrrnammmeeeessssssss??? Surely not; dear god, surely not the English!




‘Do you see me or any English people coming online, slagging off the Welsh, Irish or Scottish, writing stuff in Cornish, going on about English history and pride in our culture and giving ourselves usernames to do with England? NO, YOU DON’T.’


comment 2

Me: Also, what is wrong with someone communicating freely on the internet in Cornish? Just because you can’t read it, doesn’t mean that it has no value or place within society, regardless of the banal platform it appears on. How arrogant do you have to be, to deride the continuation of an ancient and rather beautiful language, simply for its existing out with Standard English; on Britain, a landmass that hosts at least five separate/related native languages and dialects?

‘It’s OK to love your culture and take pride in your country-‘ *He says without a hint of irony, and without ever expanding upon it, conveniently ‘-I do take pride in England and I also have admiration for the Scottish, Welsh and Irish and I do truly feel that we are all British united (Ireland needs to join Britain, they’re just making excuses to not be involved with the English because its a self-obsessed nation).’

Me: So, it is OK *to love your culture and take pride in your country, but just not when it’s done online, and when it excludes Britishness? I don’t understand, what is your issue here? Is it because you perceive the Saltire on a YouTube avatar as some sort of snub to your sense of hollow British identity, which just so happens to be how you identify; you?

‘We’re all part of the same thing and I don’t know why non-English Brits or Irish hold things against us for events that happened centuries ago, or deny themselves to be connected to us and part of Britain and thinking of Britain as “England” simply. I find it unfair.’

Me: Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason many of us want to be free (i.e. Not connected to Britain), is for the sake of freedom alone; to stand on our own feet and be Scotland again, to be a nation apart, as we had been for roughly 80% of our long, long history? And did it ever occur to you, that it might actually have nothing to do with England whatsoever, and everything to do with Scotland itself? You know, where the non-English Brits live; i.e. Scots. Is it so wrong that I have pride in being Scottish, and that my heritage, culture and traditions take precedence over some man made title that has no inherent meaning or value to me. Just because I really don’t care about England, or Britain, at all, shouldn’t be enough to cause you an identity crisis. Is it so damaging to your fragile identity, that without this begrudging and hateful Scot, your entire sense of self would crumble to dust? Does Scotland really hold all that much power over you, that the very idea of a country waving its own flag is unfair, to you, an Englishman?

You know what? Maybe try waving your own flag for a while, buddy, and get a feeling for what it is to belong, rather than viewing yourself solely by the lands subjected. Try Morris dancing or something, fuck, I dunno; go visit Stonehenge and see if you can’t reconnect with some of your ancestors, maybe find some self-respect in being English while you’re at it, because eventually, Scotland will be free; I might not live long enough to see that day, and perhaps you won’t either, but one day, it will happen.

BTW: It’s usually the Americans and other foreigners who conflate Britain with England, not us. We have literally never done that, in fact, it fucking annoys us more than you lot do.



A sample of the monotonous and petty contempt just for fun




What now?

As some might be aware, the results of the snap General Election here in the moldering carcass of the U.K, has brought about something of a wake-up call for both the dominant parties in Scotland and England, or those apt to have at least been considered ‘safe’; SNP and the Tories to be exact. Below are the results for Scotland. They aren’t catastrophic, by any means, and we can bounce back, but considering the previous voting trend up until now, it isn’t exactly encouraging in regards to the prospect of Scottish independence either.

The result

general election resultsgeneral election results2

And it got me thinking about a lot of things. It got me thinking about Scotland, Brexit, Unionism, Westminster and the English-run U.K wide media, in paper, internet, and broadcasting format; the triple-threat. It got me thinking about just how much of an uphill struggle it’s all been, only to reach this rut in the road, from the halcyon days of 2011-2015 and 2016; the sense of Scotland awakening and uniting, regardless of personal prejudice and the issue of Europe, to really come together, put aside our petty beliefs and strike out for a clear and concise goal; independence. I’ll readily admit, that of mass immigration, I’m no fan; select immigration of individuals that actually benefit the society into which they are placed; I’m fully on-board for. Yet, the SNP and their somewhat radical open-door approach to such things never sat all that well with me, but I continue to vote for them solely to advance the cause of independence. I thought that was the general consensus among the majority of my fellow Scots as well; deal with the background noise post-independence; vote for a different party afterwards, but just get to that point first and foremost. Independence. Apparently however, that wasn’t the case, and perhaps I was a tad too blinded by my own sense of mounting destiny to notice, or at least admit, that cracks were beginning to appear. The SNP are still the majority in Scotland, and that’s good; but I just can’t help noticing the cracks. I’m ever the optimist…

And now, we have Tories back in Scotland! Tories. 13 of them. And I sit here stunned, wondering just what in the blue fuck happened to my countrymen that I find a portion of them suddenly seeking out the nearest cliff, enmasse, from which to leap from. They may as well just go ahead and burn down their houses, after pushing their elderly down the stairs, because that’s what voting Tory means in Scotland, that’s exactly what voting for anything other than the SNP or Greens buys you; austerity; higher taxes; emptier pensions; less money in your pocket and an ever increasingly authoritative and uncaring government breathing down your neck!

And for what? Fear of another independence referendum? Then vote NO if and when it comes. You don’t have to get into bed with the actual Goddamn enemy just to spite the noses of your own people. You could have voted NO, without letting those who despise you drag your country to ruination and destitution. You could have voted NO, for Gods-sake, you could have simply voted NO. But instead, you let the enemy through the gate, and in doing so, turned your back on everything it means to be Scottish; you spat in the faces of all who have come before us, you’ve spat in the faces of our culture, and our heritage. You’ve spat in the faces of not only your children, but your Grandchildren as well; and all from cowardice and a weak heart. And so what’s left? Try and claw back seat after seat from the Tory and Labour scum; campaign unceasingly within every quisling constituency, after quisling constituency?

I’ve got a better idea folks; a Unilateral Declaration of Independence.

And let’s see them try and fucking stop us. I’ll tell you, this whole exercise in democracy, it isn’t working. It’s time to be Scotland again, be who we really are. We aren’t progressive and liberal; we’re bitter and hateful, aggressive and violent. That is our nature. Fuck all of these English immigrants within our storied borders; they don’t get a say in this. We declare Unilateral Independence, and then we meet those scum south of the border, beard to beard, because democracy isn’t working, and if we want independence, then instead of letting unionists make bomb-threats and send suspicious packages to pro-independence locations without so much as a glance in their corner; we fight back; an eye for an eye. They attack us; we attack them, brutally and swiftly, whilst giving no shits about what the rest of Europe thinks of us. When we march, as 20,000 did in Glasgow, we do so ready to fight; to counter aggressively, any Unionist scum we happen across (According to All Under One Banner, over 17,000 people had gathered, with almost 9,000 people confirming their attendance on the event’s Facebook page. Police estimate there were around 15,000-20,000 attendees). We then make it a law to teach all children Scottish Gaelic, from Galloway and the Borders, all the way up and to Orkney; reawaken it nation-wide, for it was spoken everywhere. It was our language, not just in the Highlands, but Scotland-wide. It belongs to us all. We then scrap the British history books, and replace them with the history of our own incredible, stunning, beautiful, magical, inspiring, glorious and ancient nation. We see any flag flying that isn’t the Saltire; rip it down. English-run businesses? Boycott them; refuse to buy anything not produced within Scotland; support our farmers and fishermen first and foremost. Holiday in the Hebrides and spend our money there; support and help revitalize those small businesses that call our ancient heart home. Shut out the rest of the world and worry about ourselves for a time, because we have few friends within our own country as it is, let alone out there in the wider world.

Sidenote: I’m aware the above paragraph will most likely never happen, and more’s the pity; but forgive me my rant, as I’m genuinely sickened to my stomach, and sometimes it’s nice to vent. Anyway:

The softly-softly approach of appeasing everyone just hasn’t been working. We’ve been too nice, and too eager to be seen as ‘progressive’; bending over backwards to make every single component within our society feel included and welcome, no matter how divisive or insignificant they actually are. And that is where the SNP have been going wrong; ignoring the pro-Brexit Scots, who despite wanting out of Europe, might still be YES voters. Instead of listening to the vocal minority; listen to the silent majority, or at the very least, acknowledge them. Again, I’ll admit I’m not pro-Europe, and would rather we have an agreement similar to that of Scandinavian countries; within the single market, but with enough leash to delay ever actually formalizing ties to Belgium. It works for them, and it would work for us. Yet I can understand why some would want to remain in Europe, and that’s fine, we can hold a referendum on that as well…but not without independence first, yet the more Tory and Labour quislings we let within our country; the less likely that either option will ever be a choice to begin with. You and your uninterested masters have robbed us of yet another national decision! Does that sound like hyperbole? An overreaction? That Westminster would ever be so underhanded, callous and subversive toward Scotland’s national interest and benefit, that such a thing could only have been dream’t up in the skewed head of an overzealous nationalist blaming every woe on the damned English? Tell me then; have you ever heard of the McCrone report; or, as I like to call it; The Darien Scheme 2.0?

The McCrone report

The McCrone report is an 18 page document about the effects of North Sea Oil on an independent Scotland, and which quite clearly shows that almost all of the profit from said North Sea Oil was taken from Scotland and spent on England, with projects such as upgrading the north and south circular road in London chief among them. The Channel Tunnel and M25 were also paid for from the ‘bonanza’ of North Sea Oil. Essentially it helps highlight; Economically, that Scotland has been continuously robbed and impoverished by subsequent Westminster governments; Westminster even having went so far as to have had the report classified as “secret“, so as to avoid fueling the independence sentiment within Scotland. It wasn’t until 2005 that the report was released to the public. Below are some excerpts:

The first part goes through most of the usual arguments which have been used against the Nationalists in the past with fairly convincing effect; the second part sets out the sort of economic strategy which an SNP Government might try to follow indicating both the dangers and the possibilities

used against the Nationalists in the past with fairly convincing effect

I was anxious to see whether a credible economic strategy could be put together which would appear to be more convincing in terms of solving Scotland’s traditional economic problems than the regional policies of the Unionist Governments have been up until now. I think the conclusion is that the most convincing way of taking the wind out of the SNP’s sails is by demonstrating that we now have policies which can make major in-roads into these problems. When my paper was written it was classified “secret” and given only a most restricted circulation in the Scottish Office because of the extreme sensitivity of the subject.”

the most convincing way of taking the wind out of the SNP’s sails

“It must be concluded therefore that revenues and large balance of payments gains would indeed accrue to a Scottish Government in the event of independence provided that steps were taken either by carried interest or by taxation to secure the Government ‘take’. Undoubtedly this would banish any anxieties the Government might have had about its budgetary position or its balance of payments. The country would tend to be in chronic surplus to a quite embarrassing degree and its currency would become the hardest in Europe with the exception perhaps of the Norwegian kroner. Just as deposed monarchs and African leaders have in the past used the Swiss franc as a haven of security, as now would the Scottish pound be seen as a good hedge against inflation and devaluation and the Scottish banks could expect to find themselves inundated with speculative inflow of foreign funds.”

“The country would tend to be in chronic surplus to a quite embarrassing degree”

Civil servants, in London, concluded that the report was accurate, and that the average income in Scotland would increase by up to 30% per head if Scotland became an independent country. They also stated that Scotland’s “economic problems would disappear”, and it would become the Kuwait of the Western world

“the Kuwait of the Western world”

In 2013, Denis Healey (who served in the Cabinet at the time the McCrone Report was submitted) stated: “I think we did underplay the value of the oil to the country because of the threat of (Scottish) nationalism… I think they (Westminster politicians) are concerned about Scotland taking the oil, I think they are worried stiff about it.

“I think we did underplay the value of the oil to the country because of the threat of (Scottish) nationalism…”


Is it not truly disgusting, to toy with the fate of an entire country, simply to line one’s own pocket? Yet that is Scotland’s abhorrent partner in this horrible union. And if that level of greed and vile deceit doesn’t turn your stomach, then join the other Lemmings lining up to leap of the cliff. At some point, I’m going to add a page which will include the report in its entirety, so that anyone interested can read it for themselves’, for there simply isn’t anything else I could add here, that would help to illustrate the reasons behind my mounting anger, and this rant, better than the report itself.

Cinead MacAlpin.