“I am not going to have a Labour government if it means deals or coalitions with the Scottish National Party,” he said, ruling out a so-called confidence and supply arrangement. ”
“The man is daft as a box of bonxies”
In latest news, the Hogboon is still swithering, ‘My vote is all to play for, I know Alistair Carmichael has done things to hurt real people, that farmers are worse off, expanding and that he wants to deal with the Tories. I am sure that there is no truth in the cover up stories really, honestly, definitely. But I just don’t like change. Things might happen
The Trow ran came down to the burrow this morning and screamed in my window. I was not bright eyed and bushy tailed – Look, he said, ‘look now we have you nationalist scum on the run’ – I looked up blearily from my freshly pressed carrot juice. ‘What did you say?’ ‘Jim Murphy has now committed to us a fairer society’, he said, ‘give up now, you have lost.’ ‘Oh Chings,’ I replied, ‘ Have you taken your medication? Vote Labour in Orkney and you will get the coalition back – maybe with UKIP. That will help your Socialist ideals’ I snorted, closed the window and snuggled down on my nice bed of grass.
The Vole is rather well educated and was lucky enough to be taught by the noted writer, John Aberdein who was kind enough to hand over this piece.
We’re now up to our ears, eyes, nose and throat in the most complex and dynamic phase of Scottish politics that any of us have ever seen. I want to freewheel with that metaphor for a moment because a) I was born before the NHS was founded; b) my life was saved in a fever hospital at age 5 by the NHS; and c) less than 3 months ago, former Prime Minister Gordon Brown – a man identified 100% with the party that as its most important, single, cherishable deed, actually founded the NHS – uttered such a pack of lies about its current and future funding that the Labour Party will never be trusted here again. The Labour Party chose to parrot the Tories in the referendum, and as a direct result has classically snuffed it. There it lies, blue-plumed, claws limp, on the foul sandpaper of its cage. Perhaps it misheard what we were saying about following the Norwegian model …