To All My Scottish Friends

To All My Scottish Friends,

I love you all. (I’m talking to you, James Palmer.) You brought us whisky, haggis and a sizeable helping of gumption. I observe that Scotland’s high proportion of Calvinists is, oddly, inversely proportional to the pervasive graciousness of Scots, albeit accompanied as it often is by a supreme level of self-confidence. Your red-headed youths have, too, a fiery nature, and lack all the faux affections of an English Southerner; every mouthful of words is unminced. We need you.

I sure hope some of you have the discernment to recognise that Alex Salmond is a nasty piece of work, of several orders. And not just Salmond; the Yes campaign seems to have been a little too keen on using bullying tactics. The whole argument sounds a little bit teenage to me, and not a little bit selfish. “We’ll be better on our own!” we hear.

I can’t vote for you, and I sure can’t help the politics. But I do know that in the event of a Yes vote, I hope Scots are as much a part of our lives as ever. We need your eggs wrapped in meat and breadcrumbs, because you know how to survive the winter cold. We need your whisky for…well, the same reason. We need your Ian Rankin, your Robbie Burns, heck even your Sean Connery. And boy, I’ll be entering your country illegally if I have to for your shortbread. But I just have a feeling that it might be a little bit better for everyone if you go for a No tomorrow. Just saying.

*Views entirely my own, fiery debate or mud-slinging in the comments downright unnecessary, but feel free to comment with anything positive you have to say*

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