The Mists of Cadbury Castle

What little I knew of Somerset mostly came from a single source. It concerned the village of South Cadbury, a most wonderful place, I had been told. Having a few hours to kill I recently checked on the quality of my information; 40 years after hearing it.

The village wasn’t hard to find despite a very authentic arthurian mist. It was there, roughly where the map had predicted. It was small, a one pub village, as expected. It was a bit too tidy and well groomed to meet with my pre-conceptions of thrifty wurzels but that hardly registered as I entered the village hostelry.

This was as smart and modern inside as it was outside. I asked for food and drink and was served. My request for information on James Stockton met with a blank look. The barmaid told me in a London accent that there was information on local history on the walls. There was indeed; the Romans had massacred the Celts before Arthur came to the rescue. I explained that I sought information on a more recent historical figure who had been King Arthur’s next door neighbour when I was but a lad. There was a distinct cooling of the ambiance.

About an hour passed during which I heard no trace of the kind of Somerset accent that The Wurzels had sung in when we listened to Champion Dung Spreader less than a lifetime ago. Curiosity about my motorcycle prompted one ‘local’ to speak to me. He confirmed, in a London accent, what I had already worked out. As he put it: “The whole of Somerset has been turned into a theme park for people from London with money.”

I was far too polite to say that I had never met anyone from London who wasn’t deep in debt. I had the feeling that some terrible events must have overtaken the firmly rooted love that James Stockton had for his village.

Was there a night in the youth of the hostile barmaid when she blacked up her face and listened to a pompous Oxford voice ? “Now men and women of the 66^th Babylon Mortgage Holders, these communist wurzels don’t have a credit rating between them. They are trying to monopolise identity, thus causing the Greater Brengland Identity Crisis. I want you to go up that hill and deal with Stockton and his renegades. If you do a good job I’ll personally see to it that every one of you gets enough credit for a four wheel drive.” A collective sigh of longing; razor sharp credit cards in hand; they marched out into the early morning mist …

Were the few survivors quietly loaded on an early morning flight that never happened? Destined to endless opportunities to serve the United Fruit & Drug Company?
Did a phone ring at the bedside of one of Her Most Imperial Secret Scum? “Somerset is secured for some serious money-lending; Sir!” 

What really happened to the village I knew so much and nothing at all about? According to James Stockton, or maybe it was Tolkien, in the time of our greatest need King Arthur will return and sort out the imperialists.

It could be any day now!

Louis Mair

October 2007

Troo Stories Frae The Windsor Piggery

Published on firstfoot.com

December 2004

I wiz an Orraman at the Piggery fur forty year. I wiz yokit under The Lairdess Bessie, n I workit under The Laird Chairly n I retirt under The Orange Lairdie himself. I wiz wunderin if ony ither budy wid like tae share thir tales o fit like it wiz tae shuffle shite at The Windsor Piggery.

I mind fan I wiz jist a loon ma faither teen me tae meet the Auld Grieve. The Auld Grieve spiert at me aboot fit wae dae ye tie a knicky-tam n sic like. I kent it wiz lookin guid fan the Auld Grieve telt us a joak.

N this wiz the joak: Fit wae diz a poly-trickan look at a jobbie floatin in the gutter?

N the answer wiz: He tilts his heid back.

Weel, the Auld Grieve laught, my faither laught, n uv coarse I laught tae. I ay mindit thon joak, n I telt it tae the Auld Grieve monys a time n he aye laught. Tae be honest I nivver kent fit wiz sae funny bit I aye laught tae!

So if thirz ony ither budy fae the auld days foo nae drap us een o they extasy-mails?

Lou MacNeep

The House That Nobody Built

Published on siol-nan gaidheal.com

One of the constitutional anomalies defecated upon us by Tory Blain‘s Parish Council is this: The sovereign subjects of the Crown have had no meaningful input into Scotland’s Stormont. Whether you vote for the McTweedledees or the MacTweedledums cannot change the contradictions inherent in placing a Colonial Assembly in a sovereign state. One of the worst features, from our point of view, of The Miralles Palace is the choice of name.

Both “Holyrood” and “Parliament” are words that we subconsciously link with the kind of future we would wish to achieve. The reality of Culdessac Castle is muddled before you consciously start to think about it. This may be mere coincidence. The continuous series of such coincidences that stretch back beyond 1603 is statistically improbable. In this discussion I shall confine myself to the possibility that an agency is at work. I believe that some series of linked actions have worked upon the lofty ideals of our nation to reduce us to our current state of fear and servitude.

Whether the agents of our challenges are human or not is something of a philosophical point. Imperialism seeks to portray itself as human; yet each individual unit of imperialism takes no responsibility for their actions; you could argue that imperialists are (by definition), sub-human. In Celtic Philosophy the Fomore are the sub-humans; Freud called them the ego. “By their deeds shall ye know them.” Just look around and ask yourself: “Do we have real problems; moral dilemmas?” Is the House of Cro-Magnons a symbol of colonialism?

As a word Scotland has a “d” in it. Is this some esoteric shorthand for “dither”, “daydream” or “dinnae”? It could hardly be short for “do”. We have (with a few honourable exceptions), done little to help ourselves in my lifetime. This secret code in the name of our country cannot stand for “devolution” as that word has lost all meaning. I believe that to keep us from depression, drugs and defeat we should try to defend, define and dae sumthin!

Suppose we were to try to find an appropriate name for Dewar Manor? Could it not become an outlet for our wit, imagination and sovereignty? Whether we did this informally or as an organised competition with prizes must surely depend on the active contributors and the website jannies. How about a Siol Name Our Shame Competition?

We are in a ridiculous position, if we can’t laugh about it we are liable to become the caricatures they are trying to sell us. Many thanks to those who made it possible for me to share this little thought with you.

Tapadh leibh gu dearabh.

S.W.

Between September 2004 and April 2005 I suggested the following names:

Dewar’s Droop

Jock Colonial’s Byre

The Fellow Traveller’s Rest Building

The House of Ethical Imperialism

The Governor General’s Mansion

The District Commissioner’s Lodge

Lizzie’s Bordel

Saint Eliza’s

The Brown Envelope

Smoke Without Fire

An Taigh Nan Pochan

Dingly Dell

Doolie Albannach

The Toothless Dragon

The Browned O

Falsettoes

Menteith’s Monument

The Suck Stops Here

Arse of Mid-Lothian

Darien II

Cower Of Scotland

The Vauxhall Conference

Scots Wha Hinnae

The Union Of The Clowns

The Dunedin Dahl

The Take-It-Easy-Palace

The Blunderstag

The Whitewash House

The Caledonian Authority

The Orange Zone

The Hungarian Embassy

La Familia Desecrada

The Morally Handicapped

Huntingdon Life

Inward Incestment

Dolly The Flock

Nedz In Sootz

Suction 43

Cheery McChubby’s Reward

Seats For Sale

Uncle Jock’s Cabin

The Budapest Of The Nawth

Swinecastle

Lothian Zoo

Halliburton Hall

What Every Waster Wants

A Re-hab Too Far

The Weasels Of Mass Deception

The Scum Never Sinkz

The Hunnypot

The Rose And Floated

Alternativz 2 Custody

The Gouk’s Nest

The Parleymince

Arthur’s Stool

A Window In Thrums

A Window In Thrums ©Louis Mair, January 2012

1. The House on the Brae

Glenprosen poster poser  Kirriemuir Herald, 25 March 1993, Page 1

An Angus glen is the target of a mysterious poster campaign.

And residents are curious as to who is behind the sudden appearance of posters bearing the words “Settler Watch-Angus.”

These have been pasted or stapled onto trees, fenceposts and walls throughout Glenprosen.

Many were placed in prominent positions on the road coming up to the picturesque glen.

One resident contacted The Dispatch and Herald to see if the culprits could be unmasked.

“I have been taking these posters down as they are spoiling the beauty of the glen,” she said.

“But within two or three days they were back up.”

The poster lettering is Gothic-style, though this has not provided any further clues.

“I have asked around, but no-one seems to know who is behind Settler Watch.

“However, it is believed that the campaign is all about keeping Scotland for the Scots.

“But there is no ill-feeling towards anyone in this area and it’s possibly an outside organisation which has taken it upon itself to do this.”

Similar posters have recently been appearing in the small village of Westmuir on the outskirts of Kirrie, it was reported last week.

A spokesman for Tayside Police in Forfar said they knew nothing of Settler Watch and were as bemused as the residents.

©Kirriemuir Herald 1993

Helping to transform glen  Kirriemuir Herald, 1 April 1993, Letters

Sir,

The glen where I make my home has also been a target for unknown poster stickers, as mentioned in last week’s “Kirrie Herald.”

I have decided that this may well be a very good thing.

The people referred to as “settlers” are hard working and well-educated people.

Slowly but surely, they are transforming an area which was on the periphery of the modern world.

The glens of Angus and Perthshire offer tremendous opportunities to those with enterprise and ambition.

Yours etc,

Geoffrey Smith, Glenisla

In with a Rolls - home on the bus! Kirriemuir Herald, 8 April 1993, Letters

Sir,

Regards Mr Geoffrey Smith’s letter of April 1.

It is precisely this air of arrogance which probably prompted SETTLER WATCH posters in the first place.

Is he really suggesting that, before the settlers arrived in our glens, we weren’t hard working and well educated people?

On the periphery of the modern world indeed!

From what I can see, and the more I see of the modern world, the less it appeals to me.

Perhaps that is the very reason these people settled in our glens in the first place.

If only they wouldn’t try to change everything and be “Lord of the Manor”.

In truth, the majority have no regard for our culture and customs, which have been practised for generations.

The Scots by nature are revered for their honesty, hard work and integrity, perhaps a little lacking in our ANGLO-SAXON NEIGHBOURS.

Quite honestly, we have ourselves to blame for being so complacent, and it is unfortunate to find yourself becoming more like them, if only to survive.

Mind you, probably the fact that we have still retained the ability to laugh at ourselves, and the fact that Mr Smith’s letter appeared on April 1, speaks volumes!

Aye, there’s mony a millionaire arrived in the glens wie a Rolls Royce an hid tae ging hame on a bus!

Yours etc.,

Poor, uneducated, hard-working, local yokel,

Glenisla.

(name and address supplied)

WARNING by The Colonial Office: The Race Relations Act has changed since 1993

You may believe that the date and the tone of the Kirrie Herald story supports the Settler Watch mythology; I canna possibly comment.

2.On the Track of the Minister

There followed four months when the name of Settler Watch did not appear in the colonial media.

You may speculate about a D-notice; I canna possibly comment.

3.Preparing to Receive Company

Late in July 1993 the Pish & Jobbies and Scrotum on Sunday began a ‘mythology of Settler Watch'  series. They drew on information from a single source.

You may speculate on Grampian Police’s involvement in politics; I canna possibly comment.

4.Waiting for the Doctor

The September 1993 trial of Dr. Sonja (Vathjunker) Cameron and “the other woman” for the misdemeanour of fly-posting saw a rabid outburst of (anti-German) racism from the empire-loyalist press. Ms. Cameron had been born in Germany and she was fined £50 for putting up Settler Watch posters.

You may speculate that the prolonged persecution by the media of this young woman was being encouraged by a (Secret) Colonial Office; I canna possibly comment.

5.A Humourist on his Calling

In April 1998 Dr. Ian Oliver was dismissed from his post as Grampian Chief Constable by the representatives of the Crown who were legally and constitutionally charged with this responsibility.

In February 2000 a ‘kite’ was flown in The [Glasgow] Herald suggesting that Dr. Oliver should be given another seat on The Graverley Train. There was little publicly expressed outrage at this suggestion.

Letter to The [Glasgow] Herald published: 21 February 2000

Under the Freedom of Disinformation Act it is unlikely that we shall ever know the exact reasons for Dr. Oliver’s jotter-collecting scenario. John R. Stephen (February 18) does the Crown a disservice by mythologising on that happy event.

Louis Mair

Rayne

You may speculate that the morally weak get the imperial masters they deserve; I canna possibly comment.

6.Dead this Twenty Years

My own part in the Settler Watch scandal was to design a vehicle for raising a topic that the great and good were studiously ignoring. I did so peacefully and exposed my supporters to no greater risk (in law) than the misdemeanour of fly-posting.

Imperial powers from Kenya to Carsonia have denied that they finance and manipulate groups of settlers. You may believe their protestations; I canna possibly comment.

7.The Statement of Fibbie Birse

9 & 10 August 1993

The boy

who never

Grew up

Mr. Blabby telt a fibbie,

He telt it tae the Filth.

Mr. Blabby and a twinnie,

The Empire gied them wealth.

Mr. Blabby shittin brickies,

Twinnie has piur health.

Louis Mair, previously published: firstfoot.com ; 6 April 2005

A Window In Thrums ©Louis Mair, 2012