All of a sudden it’s become startlingly obvious that the party has been in trouble for quite some time now. The good and honest people were hounded into saying no to independence for nefariously inexplicable reasons in spite of the fact that it’s what they really wanted all along. When it comes down to it, it would seem that nothing’s gone entirely to plan for the beleaguered country ever since William Wallace fought Emperor Hadrian for the right to ride the biggest dinosaur and lost so had to content himself with mounting a passing haggis (my grandfather, a man of noble Scottish descent, always maintained that the noble haggis was a prehistoric creature notable for its shaggy mane, almost entirely spherical body and tendency to growl at passersby who refuse to offer it shortbread).
But it takes more than increasingly dour circumstances to shake such a political institution to its very core. After all, they managed to weather the loss of their beloved (or otherwise. He managed to achieve a certain level of notoriety during his tenure and that’s not to be sniffed at too disapprovingly now is it? Although, Nick Clegg…) leader without too much fuss. It would seem that something truly horrible has occurred and we are left to guess as to what it might be.
Perhaps someone has had the nerve to make alterations to the Lorne sausage. Some mischievous individual in a Jimmy may have gone round snipping at bagpipes for the sheer fun of it. Or some third dreadfully stereotypical adverse event. The very air is positively rife with speculation as the Scottish National Party looks ready to snap and shatter into a thousand or more pieces that the winds will snatch up and scatter to the four corners of the earth to be forgotten quite entirely by the rest of the populace.