Iain Maciver writes …

ONCE upon a time, a man who liked writing had an idea. He thought: what if there was a factory that shipped marvellous chocolate things to the four corners of the Earth and there was a crazy guy running it all.

So it came to pass that he wrote a marvellous tale about just such a factory. That fellow was Roald Dahl.

Another man, the boss of a volunteer organisation in the Western Isles, also had an idea. He thought what if there was a factory that shipped marvellous chocolate things to the four corners of the Earth and there was a crazy guy running it all. Like him. So it came to pass that his idea became a reality and he opened a factory. That chap was Alasdair Nicholson.

Later this week, Alasdair’s chocolate factory is opening in Westview Terrace. Mike Smith, the chocolatier in charge, has already given me a sample of what is on offer. I am still licking my fingertips. The taste is awesome. Cameraman was with me. We had to use a crowbar to get him out.

Down south, Alasdair “Crazy Guy” Nicholson’s successor as SNP hopeful who went on to parliament is proving to be a bit of a visionary. In fact, Angus MacNeil has the second sight. I am sure of it.

Last week, he said that the House of Commons should allow him and all the other MPs to sit at home twiddling their knobs. He wants to vote electronically from his own fireside. It would save all those air fares from Traigh Mhor to Heathrow.

And, at a stroke, he has solved all the nonsense about these second-home scandals which will become a thing of the past. The reputation of honourable members will soar. We will never see them.

And Angus can feed the sheep and milk the cows without having to dash off to SW1 all the time.

Angus, of course, was only suggesting it as an option when members have to drop everything and rush off to the Commons because there is a three-line whip on urgent matters like voting how they should fold the napkins in the Houses of Parliament restaurant.

But it will happen. The only question is when. That is despite the predictable guffawing from the luddites in the bolshevik corner, as there always is for any idea from anyone not of their stripe. It is only just about 22 years ago that a certain scientist said that, within 40 years, politicians would, because of travel costs and the time involved, be voting by knob-twiddling in the comfort of their own semi- detacheds.

This was the same guy who said the very next week that, within 20 years, computers would be linked up together and you could send messages between them. Ah, how we laughed. Scientists are bonkers.

Over in the red corner, the chancellor is taking to the bottle – and a bottle of House of Commons malt whisky at that. And what he is taking to the bottle is a pen to sign his name on it. It will then be auctioned off for the Bethesda Hospice and Care Home in Stornoway.

They raised more than £300 for Bethesda last year by taking bids for a bottle of uisge beatha with the scrawls on it of our MP and MSP and a bunch of old New Labour has-beens. Three hundred quid for that lot? Our esteemed chancellor must be worth squillions, even beyond the reach of Cailean of Marybank Garage, who bought that one last year for £250.

One newspaper described Darling Alistair as well associated with the Western Isles – holidaying, it said inanely, when he can at his island hide-out in Uig. Well associated? That is a bit like saying the newspaper concerned is well associated with Britain. It may be true, but the relevant information is pitifully scant.

Our Alistair is, in fact, closely associated with Great Bernera and everyone from there. We were all closely related to his mother, actually. And, excuse me, he does not just holiday there. He has built his other home there on the site of Tigh Alasdair Mhoir. He keeps his boat there. Yes, the one which was on the front of Private Eye. And he gets his messages from C.J. So there. I’ll give you well associated. Humph.

So if there is anyone who fancies bidding for a fine Great Bernera-associated malt with a House of Commons label, just call up a man who has been photographed with a massive grin more often than Barack Obama. He is D.R. Macdonald, the chief sponduliks collector for Bethesda.

Is there anyone more likely to part you from your hard-earned? Um, well Alistair Darling, I suppose.

See that Obama? His wife has a fine pair of innominates. Later this week, these same hips will be draped with Harris Tweed. Yep, Michelle Obama will be dolled up in the clò mòr with the glamorous wives of the other G20 leaders, like Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, a curvaceous former model who is well associated with the president of France.

This has all been arranged by the chancellor’s wife, Maggie, because her husband is so well associated with Great Bernera in particular. Just thought I would mention that association.

We know that Barack has a connection from way back with Shader Barvas, if the meticulous Chrissie Lawson has done her calculations right, but I haven’t quite pinned down his connection to Bernera. I am working on it.

Mind you, he has that same kind of cheeky grin as Iain Tom in Valasay, so I think I will have to explore that one further. Now, how can I get out of the school run? It takes me up and down Westview Terrace every day. I am going to have to be very disciplined not to keep popping in to see Willy Wonka.

Otherwise, I am going to be very fat. OK, fatter. You don’t have to go on about it.