The other day I received a call from my friend Vlad, who, as a Christian of recent vintage, generously doesn’t hold my loving criticism of him against me.
Alex, he said, how are you, me old China, yob tvoyu mat? [China is very much on Vlad’s mind these days, and the Russian words roughly mean ‘as I live and breathe’.] He was going, he continued, to copy me on a letter he was about to send to our mutual friend Dave, but only if I promised to keep it strictly off the record.
I had to explain to Vlad that no such promise was necessary because publishing the letter without his explicit permission would violate every tenet of journalistic ethics I hold dear. So here’s the letter:
Dear Dave,
Sorry I missed you at our victory celebration, but then I understand you have your own victory to celebrate. Congratulations on that, from the bottom of my heart and from Medvedev’s bottom as well.
Now I hope you won’t mind a piece of avuncular advice, but your first order of the day must be to prevent the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the 21st century, the breakup of the English Union. (The breakup of the Soviet Union was such a catastrophe in the 20th century.)
When all those marginal folk in the outer reaches of the metropolis begin to get ideas above their station, a strong leader must step in and sort them out. I am such a strong leader, as Comrade Hitchens can confirm, and you can learn from my experience.
Your solution to the problem of Scotland has to be the same as mine to the problem of the Ukraine because both problems are strikingly similar, and I use the word ‘strikingly’ advisedly.
Both provinces (don’t ever call them ‘countries’ – that’ll make the bastards even more uppity) joined the respective metropolises voluntarily, centuries ago, and they’ve both been treated better than they deserve – something they’ve repaid with rank ingratitude.
In both provinces, the minorities speaking the metropolitan language are savagely oppressed by the aboriginal barbarians. In your case the situation is even worse: as I understand, the English-speaking minority in Scotland makes up 99 per cent of the population, even if the English they speak sounds like they’re deaf-mutes learning how to talk.
Both provinces have been taken over by fascist-nationalist gangs. Both now want to leave the fraternal union with the metropolis to become lackeys to EU, and therefore US, fascism.
Both profess hatred for the core population of the Union and threaten to break it up. This in spite of the word ‘Ukraine’ meaning ‘outskirts of Russia’, and the areas where most Scottish fascists live aren’t called ‘low’ lands for nothing.
Seems like your Scots are demanding more money as a condition for staying in the Sov… I mean English Union. If you give it to them, you’ll only be repeating the same mistake we made. After all, we’ve been feeding the Ukies for centuries, apart from the minor hiatus in 1932-1933 which they themselves engineered (for details, read our history textbooks). And the more we feed them, the more they want to be fed by someone else.
Similar problems call for similar solutions, and I hope you take a leaf out of my book, written by history’s ablest administrator and greatest military leader Comrade Stalin.
First thing to do, Dave, me old China, is to nationalise your clothing factories and switch their whole production to cranking out checked men’s skirts, which I believe those Scots fascists call kilts. (Incidentally, their preference for that garment proves they’re all ‘blue’, that’s the Russian for poofters. Once you’re in charge, I’ll teach you how to sort them out.)
When you’ve got a few thousand skirts, you can denationalise the factories, meaning give them as loyalty rewards to your close mates. Then put the skirts on your best troops and teach them how to talk funny.
The rest is a matter of speed, decisiveness and leadership. You put your shirted and skirted troops on personnel carriers and tanks, both of them. (Only kidding, Dave, I know you have more than two. Just.) Make sure the vehicles have no British decals, that goes without saying.
Then deploy your artillery and missiles close to the border and pound the living govno (that’s the Russian for you know what) out of everything within range. That done, send in the skirts.
Make sure they scream a few local phrases, those that apply to the situation, such as Heid doon arse up! (‘ere we go in proper English), A clean shirt’ll do ye! (you’re toast, mate) and Haud yer wheesht! (shut up or I’ll blow your head off).
Once the skirts have taken over most of the province, turn to your papers, which by now you should have given as loyalty rewards to your best mates. Tell them to fill every page with simple messages, such as:
England has nothing to do with it. This is a spontaneous uprising by Scottish patriots out to liberate their province from Judaeo-Americano-European fascists. The patriots want to restore the province to the legitimate government illegally overthrown at the instigation of US-EU fascist-capitalist cliques.
Job done, problem solved – and you’ve risked next to nothing. Those EU fascists may hit you with sanctions, but they won’t really mean it. They sell more to you than you to them, so give them a few months and Boris is your uncle.
It’s a win-win situation, Dave, me old China. The important thing is not to own up to anything, even if the fascists find British army dog tags on the soldiers they kill or capture (there won’t be many). Just say they’ve planted them, which is exactly the kind of perfidy one expects from skirt-wearing transvestites.
Let me know how you get on – and keep in touch through our mutual friend Alex. He’s a trusted old boot.