Let me start by saying, growing up in Aberdeen taught me anything it was that that the North Sea can throw a decent tantrum.
My political awakening? That came during a heated debate over whether Scotland should be allowed to keep the oil. Spoiler: We were.
I joined the SNP because, frankly, I couldn’t stand the alternative: a lifetime of Tory or Labour and it was me who fought for the abolition of university tuition fees and the scrapping of prescription charges, you are welcome Scotland.
Ah yes, 2014. The summer of white stags, white Bens, and white-knuckled negotiations. Running the independence campaign was like herding Highland cows with a map written in Gaelic. But we nailed it. I mean, 55% said nay, but really it was a moral if not actual victory.
Highlights? Oh, where to begin. The debates where I schooled the lot of them with the precision of a man who’d spent decades practising how to say 'Westminster' with the disdain of a cat who’s just been forced into a bath. The media coverage, which treated Scotland’s political future like a particularly dramatic soap opera. And let’s not forget the night of the result, when I donned my kilt.
Then came Brexit, the political equivalent of a rogue wave. Suddenly, Scotland was the only place in the EU that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be there. I retired from politics in 2017, not because I’d seen enough, but because I’d seen too much. The SNP? They elected Nicola Sturgeon as my successor, which was a bit like choosing your most brilliant, no-nonsense cousin to take over the family estate. She’s done wonders.
I hope they remember the Independence fight and the oil and not the the 14 offences, including attempted rape and sexual assault because i was found not guilty and nor the Russia Today Show i fronted for several years and certainly not how i died of a heart attack while reaching over for a bottle of tomato ketchup while at a banquet in North Macedonia.
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