In Gaeldom, years were once known by epithets rather than simple numbers. Hence we had
Bliadhna Theàrlaich (1745),
a' Bhliadhna a Ghais am Buntàta (the year of the Highland famine) and more recently
Bliadhna a' Chac which can refer to the year when either Thatcher or Blair came to power. What will this year be known as?
Here's some ideas from the preceding twelve months...
January saw
Irish hackers gain access to the website of religious heid-the-baw Ian Paisley's party, the DUP and leave messages in and supporting Irish Gaelic as well as apologising for the party's many homophobic statements. One wonders who the DUP would rather god smited first, Gaels or Gays?
February. Not for the first nor the last time do we see and hear those
Ordinary Blokes at Top Gear acting like a bunch of KKK hicks guffawing at the corpse of a young black kid they'd just lynched. This time they targeted Mexicans and their cuisine from the safety of their warm tax payer-funded BBC studios. Despite two thirds of the Top Gear team having had privileged private school educations they don't actually seem that well travelled. Anyway, I'm sure Clarkson didn't mean it. After all he looks like the kind of sad fuck who eats more nachos, beef and cheese than is good for him. Hey! Lets all laugh at these
barmy foreigners and dark skinned pickaninnies!
March and a
tsunami of world events hit the insular telly screens of Grate Brittann. The wave of water that left chaos in Japan also extolled the dangers of nuclear power and reminded us of what a dangerous and expensive white elephant it is. The British film crews meanwhile hovered over stricken Japanese gesticulating to them like English lager-louts stuck in a Spanish village and asking bemused locals for directions. The Arab Spring was also in full swing and the 'rebels' in Libya were rioting against Gaddafi. Strangely enough it seems as if the
Libyan rebellion had its wheels oiled by French special agents. Cameron then miraculously found a lot of money that he'd previously claimed was unavailable to public services and promptly bombed the fck out of Libya. Cue human rights atrocities on both sides and finally the man who'd kissed, hugged and tortured for many world leaders only months previously was set upon by a mob and killed. Thus, the people of Libya are now free. More importantly, so is their oil.
April was officially declared the
Month of Saxe-Coburg due to the Anglo-Germanic Prince Wilhelm having found a suitable receptacle for the royal poor-man's custard.
Marriage and royalty in one horrendous package and fodder for the tabloid X-Factor generation. I understand that in the spirit of things, future winners of Britain's Got Talent will be deemed immediately eligible to marry a lesser member of the royals. Unfortunately, Prince Harry is thought to be too close for comfort. Sickening stuff indeed but a good excuse to roll out Laibach's take on Engerland's nashanull anthem.
The month of
May saw a merry Bealltain for Scotland's march towards independence. Who could forget the glorious combination of a slick and savvy SNP and a Unionist opposition whose campaign was so feeble and lacklustre that it could be perceived as anti-Scottish...
"Why bother with the Scottish parish assembly?", "Hey, mention Thatcher and the proles and Weegies will vote for us anyway", "Dinnae bother using spellcheck on those election leaflets."
- and these were just the Labour Party quotes. In fact, Labour high-heid-yins were so cocksure on being elected by their 'safe' constituencies that some such as
Andy Kerr boasted to Scots Parly workers on the day before the election, 'See you next week hen'. Ho-ho... how the mediocre fall.
Hence, the Lib Dems' ludicrous Tavish Scott, the Tories' dusty and arid Annabel Goldie and Labour's er... who?... were all sent packing. The subsequent
leadership contests were just as dull. Even now, Salmond has no-one to match him as Ian Bell reflects upon
here in the Herald. Roll on independence.
Flaming June and it was time to show some respect for the boys and gals 'we' send to become Taleban fodder in Afghanistan.
Armed Forces Day was just another opportunity to wave a few Union Jacks and gloss over why the fck we're still involving ourselves and our kids lives in various foreign conflicts. Scotland unfortunately, including many SNP figures, is obsessed with our martial past. Get it over it lads and tell London to stuff their Eton-accented praise and wage a war on poverty.
July was a month dedicated to
dirty tabloid lowlifes and a
Jeremy Clarkson disciple with a gun. Indeed, this was a mad, mad month with EDL heidbangers marching and churches in Scotland getting their knickers in a twist over music in churches and gay ministers. Dontcha just love the religious right?
Things came to a heid in
August when England's cities and Gloucester burned like Arab conurbations. Jeremy Clarkson was invited to protect Engerland's architectural heritage and fly a flag for
lawrenorder but strangely declined. Cue a prolonged period of navel gazing, retribution and
witch-hunting in the Land of Hope and Glory. The
three millionaire leaders of London's political tribes condemned the rioters out of hand.
Nick Clegg in particular plumbed depths so deep that he discovered hitherto unknown lifeforms living around an aperture between Cameron's buttocks. The bleating from the Eton boys sounded even more hollow when it emerged that they too had been involved in
criminal damage and arson during their 'hoodie' years. The icing on the cake for Scots came when Unionists in
North Britain were outraged at claims that the riots hadn't hit Scotland. Apparently, pointing out the fact that all the rioting happened in England did not make the riots an 'English' issue. Thus, the Labour Party and Lib Dems north of the border proved that they hadn't learned anything from May's humbling at the polls.
September and some rummaging around the Facebook pages of Scottish Defence League came up with Celtic's hot-heided midfielder
Scott Brown apparently bonding with some small-town hicks in their campaign against...er, I'm not sure. Edinburgh's Evil News picked up on Tocasaid's fearless detective work and Scott Brown was forced to come out and act dumb, which he did very well. Whether or not the SDL are racist, sectarian, homo-erotic or just the footsoldiers in the Army of Christ's war on foreskins - as our Christian Bible demands - no-one can tell. Whatever, it doesn't wash well with Celtic FC's claims to the moral high-ground and eternal victimhood. Allah moves in strange ways however and next we'll be told that Celtic FC even employed a war-criminal and former
Commander of the British Armed Forces as their chairman.
October was quiet-ish apart from the simmering stooshie over plans to allow gay marriages and the totally unconnected case of
Liam Fox who had to resign his job in the Ministry of Bodybags due to his relationship with his best man. Oh, and Blair and Sarkozy's auld friend Gaddafi got butchered.
 |
| Gay marriages are still opposed by some. |
November and the month of Samhain sees a coffin load of
horrors released from Jesus freaks to misogynist Labour MPs to
obnoxious young Tories in St Andrews. The campaign against gay marriage intensifies with bible-bashers getting themselves in a bigger froth about either the private lives of others or the rights of other religions to the word 'marriage'. The Wee Frees warn that allowing gays to marry is the start of a slippery slope towards paedophilia and bestiality. That's a guid yin! Pity they also said that about Sunday ferries to the Isle of Lewis. November was a month of
anti-sectarian unity too with both the Ugly Sisters of Glasgow Rangers and Glasgow Celtic - do I detect a geographical pattern here? - uniting in attacking the Scottish Government's anti-sectarian bill. Various
neo-Abrahamic sects from the
Roman Catholic Church to the million and one Presbyterian splinter sects in Scotland also united to stop others from using the word 'marriage' on a piece of paper to describe a relationship between two persons of the same sex. Those two could be Liam Fox and Adam Werrity perhaps. Or maybe William Hague and his bedfellow. Or even the new
Tory leader in Scotland who is, unlike the rest, open about her sexuality.
Lastly, the dark dreich month of December ushered in a flurry of black humour at the expense of
others' misfortune. Clarkson again. This time wading into the public service strikers who took to the streets in numbers not seen for many a year. The fat toff would do well to remember that his girth is a product of public subsidy via the BBC. Maybe he's hoping to inspire another
right-wing gun nut to act out his fantasies for him? Clarkson wasn't the only one though. English media wee-sacks Matthew Wright probably outdid Clarkson when he guffawed at the murder of a 16 year old in the Isle of Lewis. Now that Wright's show has been axed by the crusading Channel 5/ Daily Express TV, the wee nyaff has probably hit the bottle again. Like a character in Taggart.
Having been all high and mighty about others mining tragedy or poverty for laughs... I have to admit a bit of guilt in this department too. My cheap shot at the
demise of the Scottish Labour Party was below the belt. Never kick a hypocritical, London-centric, bloated and corrupt auld jakie when he or she is down. Shame on me.
