Thought for the Day, with Justin Webly, more or less Arch of Cant

Hullo,

         

Justin here. Or rather, perhaps I should say “Och Aye, McWebly here!” on this, the eve of the Scots referendum vote. But I jest. By the time you scan these few words dear reader, a huge decision will have been taken.

          

Of course, my stance on these matters is difficult. My office extends to the whole of the still United Kingdom. In the event of Scotland gaining independence, the Scots would have to create their own Archbishop. Of what ? Largs, Dalkieth, Glasgow, Lerwick, Cromarty, Loch Ness?

          

I have resisted the temptation to offer my own personal opinion on this matter until now because I have to be all things to all men. And ladies. However, I feel honour bound now to speak my mind. I am sick to the back teeth of the independence craze, and the self-styled leaders of so many wrong – headed Scots. As you might imagine, I have little so-called spare time and my viewing of television programmes is limited. I quite like Antiques Roadshow and Midsomer Murders, but lately, wherever I point the blipper, the deeply irritating Mr Salmond pops up, being extraodinarily rude about anybody who disagrees with him. He was horrid to the mild-mannered Mr Darling and has shown no respect for  Her Majesty the Queen. In fact, I would go so far as to say that in the event of Scotland becoming a separate country we non-Scots must expect a fairly bleak welcome in the hillsides. Oh no. That’s Wales. But you get my drift, as the young man with the wire in his ear would say.

         

Whilst it's true that centuries ago we English were pretty beastly to the Scots, we have been very nice to them in the interim with our rugby players going easy in matches so that the Scots didn’t lose too badly, and allowing them to look after our nuclear submarines. An independent Scotland really will have to look to its defences. Scots paratroops leaping from planes should be shown the results of doing so whilst wearing a kilt. The updraft can be fatal.

           

Nevertheless, I note that my lady wife, always on David’s side against Goliath, has bought in an impressive array of health-giving drinks and chilled egg mayonnaise sandwiches to sustain herself during the (doubtless) blanket coverage of the vote. She and the young man with the wire in his ear have taken to wandering about the place whistling or humming “Scotland the Brave” and “Bonnie Annie Laurie”. And so, as I type, dear reader, I feel somewhat besieged. I also wonder that if, as the pollsters tell us, the Nos and the Yesses are too close to call, the Yesses win by a tiny majority, will there be civil war in the world’s newest country? What would Jesus have done, I ask myself....

McPip Mcpip,

Justin