Better yet, we won't have to listen to the oh-so-whiny, slimy Salmond any more and the utterly fatuous Sean Connery can disappear all the way back up his scraggy old plaid-clad arsehole, taking his Jockanistic jingoism with him.
We can remove the saltire from the flag, which will have the benefit of making it easier to both draw and fly and if the sheep-shaggers want to stay onboard we could have a new national standard bearing the cross and emblem of St George and the Dragon. Which would look pretty cool.
But no backsliding now, if the Jockwegians really want to go their own way, they should all go. Get thee hence, sons of Caledonia, back over the wall with you. Och aye, I know it's cold and full of wee midges but you's asked for it. Most importantly, can we please ship north all the tartan terriers from Westminster and have our own parliament back? Thank you. Sorry? You liked it down south, did you? Well maybe you should have thought of that before you started all the bitching.
And it's our navy, so it's our oil, okay? Yes, you can hang on to the German windfarms... and good luck with the solar. (I hear peat is a reliable source of heat during those long, dark winters) And of course you may keep all the profits from whisky and shortbread. Er, I think that's the financial details sorted out. All the best, etc... I reckon you're making the right move; please shut the door behind you.
There is of course another option. You are invited to relinquish your British, Scottish, Welsh, English or Irish citizenship and join us in the United Dingdom, a benign dingtatorship and a haven of peace and tranquillity, where our enemies are vanquished with a hard stare, everybody works hard and retires early and we thrash our kids to sleep every night with a promise that one day it will be their turn. If they survive.
But, best of all, you get to have a proper passport:
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