Social media is sooo essential to the modern politician these days, don’t you think? How else would I share the minutiae of my day job with the legions of Slab acolytes so desperate to read them? How else could I indulge in political repartee on the burning issues of the age? And how else would I publicise the good causes I travel the country to support?
In celebration of the role of social media in 21st century politics and as the summer break comes to an end I would like to share just one fun-packed, policy-light week in my busy, busy schedule as I fight to keep in place a Westminster government with the same regard for Scotland as a mongoose has for an egg, and a Tory leader who has now become sadder than a one-woman Mexican wave.
In Falkirk today, supporting the cutely named Wobbly Bottomed Harriers for Corbyn, as part of Labour’s ‘Pension Age Twerkers Say Yes To Jeremy’ charity drive. It’s a weekly event, so if you’re over 65, you have a wobbly bottom and you don’t mind shaking your booty on the pavement outside Boots the chemist in Falkirk High Street, come along and make a total arse of yourself — I’ve been doing it at Holyrood for years and it hasn’t harmed my career one little bit!
Took part in a fund-raiser in Motherwell this morning (It’s all go!). All proceeds go to preventing Indy2 until the end of time. What fun it was too. Against the clock, teams each had to smash an upright piano into pieces small enough to fit through a letterbox using nothing but toffee-hammers. As it turned out, party poopers from Health & Safety turned up and banned the entire event. I don’t see why — all children under 7 were accompanied by an adult. I was personally disappointed because the letterbox through which the piano pieces were to be posted belonged to Corby.
Flew the red-eye up from the Big Smoke last night. Been invited to promote the plight of a cohort of dong-nosed howler monkeys said to be living in Camperdown Park ever since a mating pair kept as pets in Broughty Ferry in 1953 escaped from their owners’ boot and hopped on a bus to Dundee. I had to pick the fleas out of a baboon’s oxters to show Labour’s solidarity with the ape kingdom. Great day. Felt a bit itchy at night though.
It’s the annual stovie juggling fair in Kircudbright today. It’s a lost art is stovie juggling but the three weeks I spent practicing prevented me working on a wizzo strategy for Scottish Labour. No harm done there then.
Up early today to take part in a reversed white water kayaking event on the river Spey. Participants in this little known sport try to propel themselves upstream against the flow of the river. You have to paddle like a bastard until your arms are spinning like whirlies in a gale, just to stay still. The contestant covering the farthest distance upstream after 3 minutes, wins. I won! But when I raised my paddle above my head in celebration, I was suddenly swept backwards downstream like a twig seized by a flash flood, before they could pin a medal on me. I came to four hours later with hypothermia on a river bank in Garmouth.
The event was for entertainment only but, as they say, all work and no play makes Jill a dull gal. Them’s wise words. Anyhow, if I hadn’t gone I’d have had to start coming up with some serious political ideas before going back to school Holyrood in the next few weeks.
Me time. In common with my fellow Slab MPs, I retweet any old tosh with an SNP-Bad slant. If you do this without checking the facts you can squeeze in a dozen before lunch. It’s very therapeutic.
This is a day for observing tradition. In my case, the tradition of staying off Twitter unless I’m asked to take down any postings from the previous week lacking the benefit of being factually based.
If you would like to know more about the banal machinations of Slab, there must be something wrong with you. You need to get out more. Get a hobby. They say stovie juggling’s good.
(As told to Newsnet’s Citizen Cuddis)