THE WOMAN CHASER IS ON NETFLIX US! THE WOMAN CHASER IS ON NETFLIX US! THE WOMAN CHASER IS ON NETFLIX US!
If you like Charles Willeford, you owe it to yourself to see the best Willeford adaptation to date.
(For UK Netflix people, may I recommend Proxmate Chrome extension)
Or as a certain Mr. Ness once famously said, “Never stop fighting till the fight is done …”
(Oh just follow lastyearsgirl already, would you?)
— Warren Ellis
Oor Wullie The Movie
We had to drop this sketch from Burnistoun for legal reasons. Watch it now before the lawyers get to it.
So yeah, it’s all over. In more ways than one.
I mostly watched the STV coverage, because both BBC programmes looked like a bunch of toffs trapped in a Gaspar Noe movie, whereas STV was a bunch of actual people being civil with each other, which was a far more accurate representation of the actual debate.
Course it all went to the spluttering shits, didn’t it. But it was moderately exciting while it lasted. We had three fire alarms in Dundee (one of which caused by an e-cigarette, apparently) before they declared the first win for Yes; nobody could understand the Western Isles declaration (our fault for not speaking Gaelic - well, EXCUUUUUUSE US); every single US correspondent came off like a dick (“Well, if they drop Trident, we’re gonna date their mom once and then never call her.”); Bernard Ponsonby kept going to declarations that didn’t happen (we don’t blame you, Bernie); Peter MacMahon appeared to desperately (and unsuccessfully) suppress a Yes vote (love ya, Pete); they trotted out the fuckwit double-header of Johann Lamont and Catherine McLeod (also Jim “shouty arsehole” Murphy, who sat there oozing like a smug and borderline paedo Derek Jarman); North Lanarkshire went Yes, then South Lanarkshire went No in a matter of seconds; Perth & Kinross didn’t appear to have a working microphone; Glasgow cried Yes, but not hard enough; at about 5am, learned helplessness set in; they brought an actual honest-to-God Scottish UKip MEP and, through a massive force of will, I managed to prevent myself from projectile-spewing blood clots and razor blades; Bernie tried to hand it over at 6am and visibly lost his patience; and then it all clattered to Almighty Fuck (an actual place, just south of Kirkwall) and puffy white pseudo-Tory shitheads brayed their celebration like it was Arab Spring.
Item: There really is nothing to celebrate here. You have changed nothing. Best case - you have preserved the status quo and vindicated corporate inference in political campaigns. Worst case - you have opened Scotland up to decades of abuse on a national level.
It’s difficult to be too bitter when the turnout was so high, but by God I’m gonna give it my best shot. I’m disappointed by both the low turnout in Glasgow and the result in Edinburgh (being my home town), but so it goes - Glasgow’s a huge city and Edinburgh’s an establishment one. Nevertheless, it appears that so many people registered to vote in order to throw those votes down the toilet rather than suffer higher prices down the local Asda or punishment from our banker overlords. Which to me speaks to an act of immense self-harm, but that’s democracy for you. What Scotland clearly needs is my installation as a benevolent dictator*. Viva El Presidente.**
Anyway, before we place our collective (rugged, yet attractive) face beneath the tackety boot once more, one last stat:
"Just under six in 10 (58%) of No voters say their fear for the future if the No side loses was more important in deciding their vote than hope if their side wins (at 36%). This compares with 80% of Yes voters who said they voted because they were hopeful for the future if their side wins; just 16% of Yes voters did so more out of fear than hope.”
A vote for unmitigated terror and self-interest, then. Woo, way to go. We should totally be proud of that. They’re going to call it “common sense” instead of something I like to call macro-bottling.
Shake it off.
On the upside, we’ve been promised further powers by three guys who don’t have the authority to make those promises (I want heat vision). So that should chuck a kitten in the aquarium down Westminster way, and hopefully result in the swift and bloody departure of that pillow with a face drawn on and his whole Eton mess.
But “should” doesn’t mean “will”. I’d like to be optimistic, but right now I’m gonna go get drunk and chop the heads off parking meters.
*And I would be benevolent. At FIRST.
**”Ha ha, missed both my legs!”
Today and tomorrow are going to be madness, so I’m offski. If you want me, I’ll be the one necking lowland malt and shouting at the telly AS IS MY RIGHT AS A SCOTSMAN.
But before I go …
I haven’t really been tub-thumping beyond reblogs because, let’s face it, this should be the easiest decision we ever make. All the talking points of the past few months - the oil reserves, the media bias, the currency, corporate flight, the NHS, the McCrone Report, the EU - are ultimately irrelevant, as are individual party politics.
What it comes down to is this: how much do we want our votes to count?
Given that 97% of the population have registered, I’d say we want our votes to count for a lot. Stands to reason that if a person voices an opinion, they want that opinion to be heard. It would be a shame, then, if the majority opted to maintain a toxic status quo instead of embracing the prospect of self-government.
I like to think that the people of Scotland have more nerve than that. I like to think that they won’t fall prey to what amounts to state-sponsored anxiety and facile, obsolete sentimentality. I like to think that they know a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when they see one, and they’ll grab it with both hands.
Anyway, we’ll see what happens after the polls close. In the meantime …