Written by queen mudder
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Saturday, 13 January 2007

image for A Pox on the Scots and 300 years of Whinging
"co-dependent, miserly, haggis-infested, whisky-sodden, sheep-shagging, incest-spreading, paralytic, dour-old whinging wind-bags"

London - (Ass Mess): 300 years ago this Tuesday a rabble bunch of co-dependent, miserly, haggis-infested, whisky-sodden, sheep-shagging, incest-spreading, paralytic, dour-old whinging wind-bags decided it was worth looting the London Exchequer in return for signing a multi-choice gagging clause called the Treaty of Union. The Scots rapidly followed suit and on a bonny wintry morning on January 16 1707 hystery was made.

Next week the UK celebrates the Treaty with a series of landmark lawsuits that will claw back all the billions of wasted taxes spent on lunatic Scottish fringe projects like the new Parliament building, the Scottish national cricket team and Glasgow-region alcohol rehab centres.

All these miserable failures were surely doomed from the start after a little-known 17th century curse by Mordred the McNificent scuppered the royal accession aspirations of Pretender to the Throne Charlie McSporran of the Clan McTartan, native of the balmy shores of Loch Glenmorangie.

The ancient celtic curse was discovered recently in a crypt of the British Museum when an Orkney Isles satanic ritual abuse social workers' moonshine flagon accidentally smashed and out tumbled a long-lost parchment that documents Mordred's hex of 1666.

Cryptographers from GCHQ in Cheltenham were quickly drafted in by the Museum's curator and soon deciphered a wicked plot by scions of the ancient whinging rabble to infiltrate the Union by posing as bona fide 20th century Scots-born Global Piss Process Luminaries destined to win a massive Whore Against Terra fight against the Infidel, whoever and wherever that may be.

And they may well have succeeded but for the arrival of the totally unpredicted and unexpected Comet McNaught which soon began to blaze a trail over Whitehall skies as the 300th Anniversary of the Treaty approached.

As it cut across the Blair Administration astrological fault lines a tremor of dread was felt from John O'Groats to Lands End.

Just one name was confirmed as the Orkney Isles social workers' witch-finder general who was behind the peddling of a plot so ludicrous and inhumane that Satan himself could not have done any better: Age-Defying Protein Pancake Peddler the Reverend Pat Robertson of Viginia Beach.

And he might have succeeded but for a disastrous attempt in 2000 to convince the Bank fo Scotland to lend him a billion pounds to bankroll an ethical Christian financial services scam for godless American halfwits in the US Bible Belt.

Now all is in ruins and the comet has struck.

Expect the Treaty Anniversary celebations next week to last a long, long time.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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