Brothers, sisters, sons and daughters. I stand before you today on my feet. My feet, hewed in the very fires of toil, and sculpted by Clarks. Feet which have survived the cold, hard nights of the last five years of our cold, separatist regime. Feet for whom the time has come to say ‘enough is enough’.
In towns and cities across our nation, a spectre haunts us all. A spectre draining us of our vitality, stripping us of our humanity, forcing us to cease our happy talky talky happy talk. Talk about things you’d like to do. In their tens of thousands, the people have spoken – to me, to you, to me, to you. Speaking with one voice. And they are saying: ‘remove these Chanel-clad gazillionaires from our corpy buses’.
I am not one to shirk the tough decisions. I have agonised night after night on the path we must take. And I have come to one conclusion – when Strictly comes back on, I’m ditching the X-Factor. And in the same way Tulisa’s bon mots will never grace my screen again, the hordes of cat-petting megalomaniacal Bond villians filling up top decks around our nation must be banished from our public transport network.
But I won’t stop there. Why should ill folk get their treatment for free? When I look at the shambles the sinister, secretive, and Solero-loving separatist SNP Scottish Scovernment has created in our National Health Service – with thousands of people forced by Salmond’s seditionist junta to collect life-saving medications, paid for through taxation and National Insurance – I am reminded of the timeless words of my political hero: “I am, the one and only. Nobody I’d rather be.”
And we must take the debate on our region’s constitution to the Scottish Nose Pickers as well. For too long, we have been silent on reforming the Union, apart from that Calman Commission we set up a few years back, and the other stuff we transferred in 2005. And that time Wendy decided she wanted an independence referendum within a week. And the Act resulting from the Calman Commission with the powers that won’t come into effect for a few years anyway. But the time for silence is over. I am today announcing a Commission on Things We Would Like To Appear As If We’re Thinking About, But Are Actually Doing No Such Thing. CTWWLTAAIFWTABAADNST will have wide-ranging powers, and a remit to examine behind my couch for the ten-bob bit I lost the other week. It will be a powerhouse of dynamic dynamism, a collossus of challenge, a Peter Kay of panaceas, rising above narrow partisan interest, opting instead for a nice Gorgonzola.
CTWWLTAAIFWTABAADNST will require the best minds at its head. That is why, despite my numerous responsibilities elsewhere, I shall lead the Commission from the start. I shall do so with little prejudice, and precious few facts. In my quest, I shall be ably assisted by modern thinkers, like The Fonz and Billy the Fish.
CTWWLTAAIFWTABAADNST – or the Mackie Commission – will be the choice of a new generation. The choice of an old generation. And the choice of regeneration, like when Doctor Who carks it. It will propose the changes our country – Scotland – so urgently requires.
And it will do so in 2 years time. Maybe 3. We’ll see how it goes.