Peta insists octopuses are about the most intelligent of invertebrates, writes Iain Maciver.
An American once said: “It is useless to try to hold a person to anything they say while they’re madly in love, drunk, or running for office.”
We know that because we are learning the hard way that politicians will always find reasons not to keep solemn promises.
Boris Johnson promised not to raise National Insurance. He may have been in love, drunk and wanting to win the election. The SNP promised to dual the A9 in the next two years. They then all instead came up with financial reasons why they couldn’t honour their pledges.
Someone else promised that the SNP had more than 100,000 members. Someone may have been – what is that euphemism? – economical with the truth. A terrible mess, as someone important said at the weekend.
Away from politics, we all break promises, but sometimes unknowingly. That’s what happened to Daughter No 1. She and her co-workers – as the American company she works for in Edinburgh insists on calling her colleagues – were discussing how clever the octopus is, as you do. Remember Paul the octopus who could apparently predict football results back in 2010?
Animal rights organisation People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (Peta) insists octopuses are about the most intelligent of invertebrates. With complex thought processes, long and short-term memories, and sometimes very complex personalities, they are just like the wannabes for Scotland’s first minister.
They can even be trained to use tools. Blimey, that’s more than even I can do well, and possibly Ash Regan, too, judging by her elegance.
Octopuses learn through observation and are sensitive to pain, according to Peta. What about the pain of other people? That is how every politician should be – but tend not to be.
Anyway, Vicki and her software engineer workmates examined the evidence of these brains on tentacles. They all decided they’d never eat octopus again because they were so incredibly clever, they could pick up coloured balls and remember people who fed them which food. Spooky.
That night, they were out in one of the capital’s 20 Japanese restaurants. A special that night was new – takoyaki. It was so finger-licking good, they went to compliment mine host at the eatery. Imagine their shock when he told them that they had all just feasted on octopus balls in batter.
Who will deliver salvation for the SNP?
Just when you think you are beginning to understand something or someone, they go and spoil it. OK, politics again. When Kate Forbes was asked on Sky News why it is the Free Church in Dingwall she attends, her answer floored me.
Was it because of her sense of divine creation? Did she feel the call to her soul from the Son of God? Nope. Wee Katag said it was because the Free Kirk was just down the road.
What? Really? Were you not also stirred to your very being by the power of the Holy Spirit? You know, the one our old missionary in Bernera told us moved everyone on to the path of righteousness?
Just down the road? Just down the road is where you go for a poke of chips – not eternal salvation.
Forbes’s shoogly party now needs salvation of some kind, and it may not get it from her rivals. Regan is not regular enough for me, although she will deny it. Humza, however, is about more of the same, and he will deny that, too.
Using euphemisms
So, what’s going to happen? By the time I write here next week, Donald Trump may be in jail, if you listen to what he says, and Kate Forbes may be in Bute House as first minister, if you listen to what she thinks.
I think she might well be right. Some may feel it wrong of me to say this, but I think it will be because of how she presents herself. Through no fault of Humza or Ash, Katag is blessed to always appear well scrubbed-up, honest and more clever than your average octopus. That is not a euphemism, just a silly joke.
They are so handy, because euphemisms avoid you having to state blunt facts. Peggy M is the queen of euphemisms. Last year, I had just come out of the loo in the supermarket when I bumped into her. She noticed that my trouser fly wasn’t completely zipped up.
She whispered to me: “Iain, your garage is open.” Oops. So, I apologised, gave her a cheeky smile and said: “Did you see my Rolls Royce parked in there?”
Peggy smiled that special smile, shook her head and said: “Huh, I most certainly did not. All I saw was an old Mini with two flat tyres.”
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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