Quintin Jardine's blog

I had a dream the other night that chilled me to the marrow. A wee bird cam tae oor ha door (no not the McCrea Sparra) and warbled in my ear the kind of really horrid things I did not wish to hear. Twas – Raise the drawbridge Alex, then refill the moat. Rebuild that old Roman Wall and then we have a vote. Bugger Darling Osborne’s Pound, we shall use the groat.Most of Scots folk will say YES then we will be in. So make the preparation to let the CULL begin. Inspector Mario McGuire, he has a foreign name, and Skinner’s wife well she’s a Yank and so we will send them hame. Internment can begin again (before QJ was a bairn – and Rossi’s cafe vandalised and had to change the name, because Mussolini was the foe all Italians were defamed. Even though the ROSS’s son was in the British Army the local xenophobes went barmy}. I’m really glad I then woke up and let out a low whistle, relieved to remember years ago that I had moved to Bristol and back in my homeland times have changed they’re much more civilised. the English and the other lots are slightly less despised. So the Hibees and the Jambos, the Celtic and the Hun can now exist in harmony under Salmond’s sun. Amen.

Thanks, but Glen Kinchie works too – and tastes better but the Ayatollah Mary has banned it!