As I was shopping for mince pies to have with hot custard – a sure sign that the auld year is nearly kaput – I met a local Lewis lady called Chrissie. I’m not allowed to mention her surname because then everyone will know who she is.
She told me a naughty story, and she didn’t want anyone to know that she was her. More about Chrissie and Santa later.
Chrissie knows politics inside out, but she isn’t party political. She wondered what upheaval is in store in 2024.
The next elections are yonks away. Despite the appalling state of the governments in Edinburgh and London, the next election will be in Westminster, but probably not until January 2025.
Wait – on Monday, Rishi said maybe 2024. Rishi Sunak may rush soon to jack it in, or he has a wee while to get us all thinking he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Nah, I don’t think so either.
And Humza Yousaf perhaps has until May 2026 to show that he’s the man to take Scotland boldly forward on that glorious road to, well, who knows? Many now think that the main players in the SNP-led Scottish Government have simply lost the appetite for an independence tussle and want to stay in their cushy, well-paid jobs as long as possible.
Meanwhile, Humza is exasperated by Angus MacNeil MP, now ousted from the SNP, who’s going to stand independently. He cheekily asked the SNP to not put up a candidate against him. Ha, as if that was going to happen.
Just to show him, and interlopers like Alex Salmond’s non-Gaelic Alba Party, the island Sneeps have chosen Susan Thomson. Who? And that’s her problem right there. No one has a clue who Susan is.
A councillor, eh? What has she campaigned on as a councillor? Er… I spoke to some independent councillors. They couldn’t recall either. In fact, poor Susan has hardly opened her mouth at the council, or comhairle, as we educated Gaels like to call it.
Everybody’s having a Mone this week
Wake up, little Susie. You’re going to have to be a Runaround Sue to drown out the roaring of angry Angus trying to stave off a bleak future, looking for quangos to sit on.
No, a quango’s not a chair. It’s a quasi-non-governmental organisation, for past-it former public servants – like the House of Lords. Think Scottish National Investment Bank. Become its chair, and you could get up to £60,000 per year for working one day a week.
Chrissie, too, thinks people clinging to their jobs will feature in the coming year, and the next one. I hope I’m not one of them. I don’t want to have quangoteers or Susan moan at the editor.
Moan? Where did I hear that word this week? Oh, never mind.
Could the cabinet members around the incumbent of Number 10 also be just hanging on to their jobs? Sunak has just hinted at a 2024 poll. Members of the House of Lords, however, have a role for life.
The Lords again? Ah, that’s where I heard it. Hello to Michelle Mone, former queen of fake tan, now Baroness Mone, OBE, PPE, etc.
No longer a Tory, she should say what she really thinks. She longed to tell Laura Kuenssberg more on telly the other day. She can just call The Press and Journal for my number. I’m a much better listener, and my interviews are not fixed length.
Baroness Mone, you may moan to me all day – as can Susan, if she wishes. Heck, I’m sorting out the world here, and it’s only Tuesday.
A guga in a Kuga
And I have to sort out another question after my recent tale from Ullapool of five in a Quattro and two in an Uno. A reader got in touch to ask if, in Lewis, a Ford Kuga might be misheard as a Ford Guga. Actually, Mr McCuish, there may be a guga in a Kuga as we speak. Niseachs also scoff them at this time of year. I know: yuck.
It’s not just the scoff that Chrissie loves about Christmas. It reminds her of what she got up to in the armed forces a long time ago. She remembers a Christmas night out when in her mid-20s.
A Santa turned up at the restaurant. This one was young and had no big belly. She ended up sitting, nay sprawled, on his lap. Santa said he didn’t usually take requests from adults but, as she was so nice to him, he would ask her what she wanted for Christmas.
“Just something for my mother, Santa,” said Chrissie. “Something for your mum? That’s so thoughtful of you,” smiled the cove with the big white beard. “What would you like me to bring her?”
Chrissie purred: “A son-in-law.”
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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