What we wish for

A couple of days ago Andy Murray became just Scottish again. Soon, if Nicola Sturgeon’s dream comes true he may get the opportunity to adopt that specific nationality on a more permanent and exclusive basis. La Sturgeon is, of course, back on the Indie Trail. I wonder if she and Alex Salmond are operating as a tag team, with Wee Eck jostling the ropes waiting his turn to bound back in and take back the reins again. Meh. Scottish independence is a pipe dream, a personal vanity project and the Scottish National Party is a flash in the pan now it is abundantly clear what a snarling, spiteful, ankle-bitey wee beastie it is.

A shame, really, that they have resorted to biting the hand that feeds, given that the British Isles existed millennia before Scotland was even dreamed of and the Walter Scott, Rabbie Burns, shortbread tin illustration version of the Highlands, where about one in every thousand Scots live, is an even more recent invention. If the English yearning for independence from the EU can be accused of harking back to a green and pleasant land that never was, that accusation can apply doubly, trebly to the Scottish. We’ll get along just fine though, whatever back-to-the-future we both end up in.

On the subject of alternate futures – something that absolutely nobody can predict – I find it odd that so much of the anti-Brexit rhetoric pivots on the doom and gloom that lies ahead. One of the latest ‘threats’ I heard was that we ‘could’ all be £2000 poorer following Brexit. So what, unless I win the lottery tonight I ‘could’ be £millions poorer by tomorrow. Of course, equally, I might actually win the lottery and still end up only a ‘free lucky dip’ to the good. The future is just a sea of ‘what-ifs’ but what it certainly isn’t is pre-ordained. The future is malleable; like a streetwalker it promises to be what you want it to be... as long as what you want is an expensive disappointment.

I may not know what lies ahead for me, but I do know that a lot of it is up to me. I could drop dead of a heart attack tomorrow, that’s true, but if I choose to make some sensible lifestyle decisions and live an actively I could be around for, oooh, months to come. Continuing that analogy, some remainers seem determined that the future is going to be bleak, as if they have chosen to give in and subsist from now on deep-fried brown food, cigarettes, booze and extreme indolence; they would be gutted if they survived into their eighties, but at least if they do there’s a fair chance they could cripple themselves into type 2 diabetes, blindness and gout... so that’ll learn yah, you ignorant Brexiteers.

But, while we’re predicting the unpredictable, a good rule of thumb is to extrapolate from the current direction of travel. And that extrapolation always takes us to a future of increasing costs with reducing benefits. It foretells a world in which only the best-educated work profitably, alongside state-subsidised, low paid, migrant armies, while the indigenous unemployed languish and become agitated. In the next few years the countries of the EU will elect more hard-line administrations, reintroduce border controls, pass new labour laws to favour nationals and increasingly defy the Polit-Euro.

More referenda, more net contributors opting to leave, more demands for bailouts from net recipients until eventually the only workable thing left of the European Union is a vague, sort-of free-trade area, mingled with unilateral protectionist policies... with an independent Scotland still begging to join. Excuse me for preferring to argue for an uncertain but optimistic unknown future, rather than hankering for more of what we know only too well.

Back to the Future!

Conference was in full swing when suddenly, people started to clutch their heads and look around wildly. Some started to panic as the auditorium shook and a swirling vortex distorted their vision. Then there came surprising calm as, with a sound like a heavily labouring respirator, a blue box appeared on the stage before their eyes. Gasps! Was this David Blaine, attempting a new feat of banality with no apparent purpose? There was a stunned silence as a door appeared in the box and a strangely clad man stepped out.

"Greetings, Earthlings!" he said to an open-mouthed audience, then "I like calling them that." This last was said as an aside to his flame-haired companion. "Greetings. I bring you good news from the future!"

For a conference debating the very form that the future should take this was an answer to a prayer. They could look forward and see what their earnest intentions would bring about. For the first time they could set a policy course knowing what the outcomes would be. Almost everybody, to some unheard cue, leaned forward in their seats and listened.

"In the future, there is no such thing as multiculturalism. Everybody identifies themselves as either 'British' or 'visiting' and everybody looks pretty much the same. People do not fear the police or the judiciary and everybody rubs along pretty well, knowing the rules. Burglars are desperate people for they know they abandon their rights the moment they break in.

"In the future there is no European Union to speak of and Britain is independent of it. There is no Human Rights Act, no restrictive employment laws and employers are free to hire and fire fairly and as they see fit. Most adults are in work, many mothers happily stay at home and bring up well-behaved children who do them credit. The watchword is 'a fair day's work for a fair day's pay' and those who are envious of higher earners know that to achieve the same they must work harder or smarter, or both.

"In the future the National Health Service is the envy of the world, as is the British education system. Both have discarded the management-heavy inefficiencies and both medics and teachers strive to provide the best possible outcomes for their client base. Police officers and security guards are no longer required in A & E and the rare ill-discipline in schools is swiftly and effectively dealt with. Teachers and doctors are pillars of the community.

"In the future people will not be slaves to technology. People will not stumble about their daily lives, eternally plugged into the internet, their iPods, social media, games and the like. They will be civil to each other, hold face-to-face conversations and will no longer suffer the anguish and slide into dementia precipitated by a loss of electronic connectivity. In the future, you will be FREE!"

Say hello to the future!

For a moment, nobody broke the spell. Then a muted shuffling began as people turned to each other, uncertain how to proceed. Strangers cautiously smiled at each other and shook hands; some hugged and a few wept silently to themselves. The future IS bright; the future ISN'T Orange.

Then one brave soul addressed the stranger on stage. "Sir!" he said, "Tell us, pray, from what year you come, bringing such good news?"

The Time Traveller ducked back inside his blue box for a moment, the sounds of ratchets ratcheting and springs being sprung were heard before he reappeared and announced to the enraptured throng. "1958"