So now we know. The date that Alex Salmond has chosen for the people of Scotland to tentatively decide if they maybe want to perhaps, like, consider if we want to possibly leave the UK and perchance go it sort of alone is October 18, 2014. Except it’s not going to happen.
No, there will be no referendum on that date. Remember I told you that in February 2012. Not in a million years. That Sunday newspaper which claimed it as an exclusive is wrong. The First Minister may have planned it for that, the first time a major vote was held on a Saturday – but not now. H had’t reckoned with the power of the Free Church and all its hardline schismatic offshoots.
My man on The Mound tells me that the Wee Frees will not allow the Sabbath to be desecrated for the sake of some airy-fairy social experiment by some here today, gone tomorrow politician. They will make it quite clear to the returning officer in Stornoway that he will be sent hurtling to his fiery doom if he so much as lifts a pencil to try and count a single vote after 11.59pm on Saturday 18th.
Just to ensure Free Church-style salvation, he will be instructed he must be tucked up in bed with Mrs Returning Officer before Big Ben bongs. We may have Sunday ferries and Sunday planes because their operators are out of the control of the churches. However, they still have the council by the Curlys and the Charlies.
It doesn’t matter about the councils on the mainland. They are beyond redemption anyway, like Sabbath-breaking CalMac staff. The church’s Executive Committee of Anti-Democratic Soul Savers is more concerned about the spiritual health of those who toil for Western Isles Council. And there is no way that council chief X counter Malcolm Burr and his team could guarantee to count all the votes and be back under their duvets one hour and 59 minutes after the polls close.
I asked the council what would happen and they said: “That will be a matter for the returning officer and the new council.” See, I told you. It would take more than a helicopter from Barra, which they use at elections, for that to happen. It would take divine intervention and the local agents for the Almighty have no intention of making a one-off application to give us a surprise present.
Unlike myself. Mrs X was having a go at me the other day because she wanted a fine camera that costs a bomb. There was no way I was forking out that much – upcoming birthday or not. So I came up with a plan. I told her that I absolutely understood she wanted to take better photos so I was getting her a credit card so she could just order whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.
She was over the moon. Until the card came and she found out it was in her own name. What? You thought I would pay for a new camera for you? Am I made of money? Still, I enjoyed the cuddles till the card arrived.
My point is that if Alex Salmond cannot go on the Andrew Marr show on Sunday morning to crow that the whole of Caledonia has turned its back on the United Kingdom and decided to follow him then he’s not going to go for a Saturday vote, is he? That was the whole point why the old fox was going for the weekend poll. Back to the drawing board, Mr FM.
Someone has pointed all this out to Mr Salmond. Now he is in a right cream puff about it. He has pulled out of a Stornoway gig on Friday. Our council had pencilled him in to open the new all-singing, all-dancing media village thingummyjig down on Seaforth Road. He’s since turned round and told them he’s not available.
I think he would rather stick pins in his eyes than head up to the Western Isles, a place where people have not only ruined his great Saturday referendum plan but which is threatening civil disobedience over the removal of that Road Equivalent Tariff thingummybob from big lorries.
Alex Salmond must be thinking: “No way am I going up there and be forced to smile at people who are trying to undermine everything I do. Get that MSP fellow to go, Alabaster Allan, or whatever his name is. He is not doing much anyway because he is lying low over the RET thing.”
Never mind. It doesn’t matter what day it happens, the important thing is that we get the chance to have our say on the future of our country. An old lady I know in Stornoway tells me she hopes to live long enough to help decide the future of Scotland. She smiles sweetly as she tells me: “I just want to put my X in a box.”
Which is exactly what Mrs X said when she saw her name on that credit card.