Here I am waking up this morning to the realisation that everyone born in Scotland after 1707 is English, there is no Scotland. Scotland died in 1707, it ceased to exist, it is no more. Yeah, we wear Kilts to the football, to weddings, to burns night when we lament our country that no longer exists. We are no more distinct than a York Shireman or a Morris dancer, we are a people that lost its nationality when it was sold out by the same kind of people who are growing the carrots in the SNP today.
We need to just accept that Scotland is dead, Wales has been dead even longer, we need to accept that there is no Great Britain and Northern Ireland, there is only England and Northern Ireland, and the Northern Ireland part won’t be around much longer as they actually have balls and have never given up or embraced their colonisation.
There are benefits though to my new Englishness. I have a King Charles that I can bow down to, I can now go abroad, if I don’t freeze to death first, and show my English entitlement to a sun bed and a beer at any time of the day. I can now breath that sigh of relief as those shite public services get sold off one by one to my betters and I should be thankful that they are letting me stay in Northern England and not selling the lands where my social housing sits for raising grouse and then shooting it.
I can now embrace the special relationship with my other masters the USA, encourage my kids to join up and go fight to expand American economic interests so that my betters can keep thinking they are important and get paid very well for it. I will only buy things in the shops that have the St. Georges Cross on it, don’t want any of that dirty foreign stuff on my plate, fuck that. I’ll give up on my moral stance regarding the World Cup and get behind Gareth, Harry and the boys, come on Ingerland we won it in 66 we can win it again and show the world we are fucking better than you.
Yes, I am (nae mare em fir me) embracing my new Englishness, I am going to love it and on Christmas day I’ll be watching my King and watching Only Fools and Horses. Alba Party, forget it, I am joining the Labour Party, more chance of being accepted by them, my masters the Tories won’t want me unless I can serve them something or have something they want to steal.
Day one of understanding my Englishness, thank you Nicola Sturgeon and your carrot eaters, thank you for opening my eyes, thank you for finishing the job your ancestral betrayers started in 1707, thank you for finally showing us that Scotland is dead, all you have to do is wind up the diddy parliament in Holyrood and it is done.