Scotland’s currently having its Annual Week of Sunshine, so I decided to take advantage of it on Sunday and have a picnic. It was great: we munched nice food, played with the dog, watched the dog take her first swim and cooled down with a bottled beer apiece. This, it seems, means I’m an enemy of the state. The Scottish Executive wants a country-wide ban on all public drinking to fight the problems with marches and parades.
Over to Devil’s Kitchen (this bit is one of the few ones I can quote in my efforts to keep this blog relatively swear-free):
In order to control the actions of a very, very tiny minority, the Scottish Executive are determined that everybody should suffer… Nice, middle-class family want to have a picnic in the sun on the Meadows and have a glass of Pimms? No, sorry, it’s off to the fucking slammer for you, son
Here’s a better idea. If the problem is because of marches and parades, why not ban orange marches? Or, and I bet you can predict this next bit, why not use the laws we already have?
We have laws that deal with public drunkenness. We have laws that deal with being an arse in public. We have laws that deal with violence. If the problem is that we can’t enforce the laws we already have, what possible benefit do we get from adding another one?
It’s hard to disagree with DK when he says to our elected representatives:
I hope that your limbs drop off and your lips are sewn together with coarse string impregnated with salt-water.
Me, I’d rather recycle Bill Hicks’ rant about marketing types. It seems appropriate.
Kill yourselves… No really, there’s no rationalisation for what you do, and you are Satan’s little helpers, OK? Kill yourselves, seriously. You’re the ruiner of all things good.