The hangover from a 300 year binge

Wee Ginger Dug

Oh god. Ma heid. Ma second class representation in the Westminster Parliament. Is there such as thing as syrup of figs for a blocked devolution settlement? Being Scottish in the UK feels like waking up with a 300 year hangover. The groggy recollection that you did some really bad things with India and Africa, the slowly dawning realisation that you’ve got bugger all to show for it, and the growing awareness that you have, in fact, been taken for a complete mug. The things you’ve done and the place you’re in now are not who you really are. There’s an immense mismatch between how you see yourself and how your drinking companion sees you, the one who’s been poncing off you for years and filling your head with crap. And you believed it. It’s cringe-making.

Scotland sees itself as a country. Because that’s what we are. Instinctively we compare ourselves…

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