Mhairi Black

Mhairi Black the youngest, most eloquent and intelligent MP we, well the Scottish, have, gave a talk on the workings of the house. It is ludicrous to the point of demensure. Imagine talking to an ageing once important man, Trump for example. He carries in his skull a mountain of arrogance, the ignorance not to question it and the social aplomb to counter any argument, aplomb based merely on the fact he made the rules before you were born. Imagine now that you are meeting this once important man in an asylum, he the King of Chipping Sodbury and Holy Roman emperor of the Caching Dynasty. He patiently explains he is experienced in matters concerning this establishment and that you must follow a squirrel into the division lobby for lunch. You are now as furious, frustrated and flummoxed as Mhairi Black. You are vital, have a working brain and supposed you were here to work for the better governance of Britain, but how when mired in so many nonsensical delusions can you bring about any progress whatsoever? Probably by giving talks to people at large about this none functioning cuckoo’s nest. “My dear girl we were all like you at your age. A chap I knew at Eaton supported Keir Hardie! But we all have to learn the rules, Black Nob hitting the woolsack three times with a tennis racket, that sort of thing, or we’d lose our ancient power over poor people as given to us by Charles II after we posthumously executed Oliver Cromwell.” “Posthumously executed?” “Well he’d already died so we dug him up and hanged him.” “Da ya ney know you’re all grossly overmedicated fools in here so you are.” “If it was good enough for King Charles it’s good enough for us young lady. You’d do well to remember that.” “And you’d dey well ti remember, ya wee southern shite, that I’m a lesbian an proud Scot so I am, an I’ll throw your meds down the loo so I will.” “Nannyeeeeee!”