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Answers to citizenship questions:
George Reid, Lesley Riddoch, Magnus Linklater and King Kit
Whilst much of Scotland seems currently preoccupied with discussion over who should be the next BBC sportsperson of the year, my own thoughts are on weightier matters: who we should choose to the New Scotland’s first king, or indeed queen. (God knows the last thing I want is to be accused of is being sexist in these highly serious articles.)
Now at this stage you may think I am about to be frivolous. Far from it. If the polls are right there is a pretty fair chance that within the next three years we in Scotland will be running our own country and given the limited time we have left to organise things we shouldn’t be faffing around worrying about sports personalities, we have work to do. And how.
As I predict it, after the most impressive piece of media manipulation ever seen on the planet Alex Salmond will be sweeping Scotland to independence on a tidal wave of patriotism based around the anniversary of Bannockburn, the Commonwealth Games, various golf tournaments, and doubtless a number of government-sponsored Burns suppers featuring kilted speech makers greetin’ their eyes out as they thump the table calling for one more push.
And I’m serious. Mr Salmond is perfectly capable of delivering independence. The man’s a political genius beside whom the Labour Party leader aye looks to me like a hairdresser from Barlanark who was visiting the Busted Haggis, took a wrong turning in the corridors and is having a laugh until they call security. So the nightmare is perfectly possible. Incidentally, I want it noted that I am well aware that not all hairdressers are women.
Anyhow, after this glorious referendum we will then have, as I understand it from my reading of the results of the last Downing street meetings, 16 months to put forward comprehensive plans for all the new arrangements for Scotland. It’s not long. The agenda is going to have to be a busy one. Sixteen months to build a new Scottish army, navy and air force, a new constitution that can be divided four ways, a new exchequer, dozens of new government agencies and all those customs buildings.
Still I suppose they might just combine the folk at Visit and Creative Scotland to do the job, so let’s not be worried. Given a bit of luck such a body would doubtless be able to create this promised New Norway in which every citizen would be guaranteed their own cleaner and no midges would be allowed to fly west of Crianlarich.
I could probably go on for some paragraphs, but my mood of creative joy has somehow left me. Damnit this is our own dear beloved country we are talking about. What a grotesque gift to leave our children.
Call me a cynic but my suspicion is that the 16 months are going to be a very busy time and I think that the best plan is that rather like Egypt we need to consolidate power in just the one person to ensure that the time frames are met and the best decisions don’t get watered down whilst passing through the concrete entrails of the Busted Haggis.
Hence the reason for the appointment of a king, or indeed queen, for those 16 months. Someone who can sit in Holyrood Palace with a big dram to hand and a crown on his, or her, head simply making all the key decisions so that the deadline can be reached and we can all crack on.
Now comes the key question. Who? Of course everyone will want Sir Sean Connery, but he’s a bit old, or indeed wee Alec Gollum, but the poor soul is going to be weary by then. So then: George Reid, Magnus Linklater, Kenneth Roy, Ron Ferguson, Mary Brown, Robin Harper, Lesley Riddoch, Maggie Fyffe, George Gunn, Andy Wightman? I admire them all greatly but somehow I just can’t see it.
But be not alarmed – there is man who, possibly unconsciously, has been in training for 50 odd years for this very role and who even as we speak is scurrying around Brixton honing his management skills so that he can be ready. Step forward king in waiting Kit Fraser of Moniack. Eeer, who?
Actually you may have heard of him but didn’t realise that you were seeing our future king at the time. King Kit is no eejit. He is a highly successful small businessman and politician who runs two pubs, one restaurant, has written several selling books and launched as I understand it two political parties. He’s also much loved, and is truly a sweet man.
Let me give you his recent CV. Do you remember that character who dressed up as a cigarette and tried to invade the parlie to protest the smoking ban? T’was our future king. And then the guy who took off most of his clothes in front of RBS saying the bankers were stripping the small businessman naked? He’s not shy. And he is very successful too. His latest venture, a 1,000-seater pub called Hootenannie’s in London’s Brixton goes like a train. Scoff if you dare, the man understands business, though his recent decision to spend £102,000 on a police box in the middle of the Royal Mile is remarkable to say the least.
More recently he has written a book called the ‘Joy of Talk’. You can still get copies online if you are quick. Well, actually, you will probably still be able to get them even if you are not, but no matter.
Now the ‘Joy of Talk’ is based on the notion that if you get divorced at around 50 you don’t so much miss the sex, as chances are you won’t be getting much, but by jings you will miss the talk. So enthused by this notion was Kit that he ran for parliament on its ticket, though failed to be elected, which is a relief given his true destiny.
Then, would you believe, he launched a spin-off restaurant in Inverness’s Church Street to be run by divorcees and the like so that they could get a bit more talk, and such. Don’t believe me? It’s all online, look up ‘Joy of Taste’.
No King Kit’s the man for the job.
Frankly I would rather he sat on a throne making the decisions than what it looks like we are all in store for. I think he would fit in fine in the New Scotland that now seems perfectly possible. Unless we do something about it.
Parcel of rogues? More like a post van full.
Maxwell MacLeod is an author and journalist
