Fool me just once more? Sure, for old time’s sake.

Sadly, being ambivalent often achieves nothing. And I was completely disinterested in the upcoming Scottish elections.

Then serendipity intervened. On the same day as I received my postal vote, the Labour candidate came to my door. His pitch, wisely, was not centred on policy, because Labour don’t have any that you’d appreciate in Scotland. He emphatically informed me that the SNP candidate for my area lives in Giffnock, but he lived locally – to which I thought – who cares? Then he asked who I wouldn’t vote for. I reflexively answered Reform. Given he was putting the effort in going door to door I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Labour was another of the parties I wouldn’t be entertaining. It was drizzling, the wind was uncomfortably sharp and I had to get back to work, so I fobbed him off before coldly sticking his leaflet in the recycling bin after he was out of sight.

That he asked me who I wasn’t voting for was telling. That’s what the Scottish elections have become, and hence my apathy – it’s more about who and what you’re voting against, not for.

Staunch Unionists are served well here, as it’s anyone but the SNP and the Greens on the list ballot. Normally I would be envious of choice, but not when the variety is so disgusting – Tories, Labour, Liberal Democrats and the completely inept, racist and corrupt Reform UK.

Side note, here’s the list vote choices for Glasgow (including a few I hadn’t heard of): Alliance to Liberate Scotland, Independence for Scotland Party, Independent Green Voice, Reform UK, Scottish Christian Party, Scottish Common Party, Scottish Conservatives, Scottish Family Party (?), Scottish Greens, Scottish Labour, Scottish Liberal Democrats, The SNP, Scottish Socialist Party, UKIP, Workers Party of Britain and two independent candidates. Of this lot, the Greens are the only pro-independence offering likely to pick up enough votes to gain list seats.

But who cares about the voting preferences of the Unionists. If independence is your primary concern that’s where things are aggravatingly limited.

Here you’re faced, as a pro-independence voter, with the philosophical turmoil of rewarding the SNP, as the only pro-independence party on the ballot, for failing on the issue but possibly damaging the independence cause if you don’t vote for them. The accusations of the SNP kicking independence into the long grass not being a strategic one, but solely to retain their lavishly paid jobs for another five years is hard to refute. They’ve been the largest party in Holyrood since 2016, yet have done absolutely nothing to facilitate another referendum. Why will this time be different?

Polling might not be worth anything more than vibes and hypotheticals, but with support for independence consistently polling fifty percent or better, most people are clearly willing to consider the question again. Now is the time.

As for justifications, there’s plenty – a lot’s happened since September 2014 to change the calculus for Scots and the SNP; Brexit, the calamitous Boris Johnson being PM during Covid, never ending austerity Westminster governments and now we have the technocratic, morally bankrupt and insidiously corrupt Zionist Nu-Labour adults back in charge. That’s going great. Starmer probably won’t stammer on much longer. The pro-plutocratic Morgan McSweeney and the lord of darkness Peter Mandleson appeared to be Starmer’s handlers. Now they’re gone he’s flailing, sacking senior Civil Servants to cover his own disinterest in governance, and, worst of all, he doesn’t appear to stand for anything except economic stagnation.

So, what next? Reform UK are looming menacingly. They’re led by a populist charlatan and now populated by an imbecilic cohort of failed Tories. With dissatisfaction high among the public at perpetual austerity centrism they could easily form the next government in Westminster. Will this be good or bad for the cause of independence? Why take that risk? The omnishambles that is UK politics, and the diverging political outlooks north and south of the border, should create a sense of urgency for independence supporters and within the SNP to quickly find an out.

With all that you would assume that an SNP manifesto would centre on independence, given it’s why the party exists. Nope. Discouragingly the 2026 manifesto doesn’t mention the word until the fourth paragraph on the website header page. Even then it only talks of securing a referendum via an overall SNP majority. In the seventy-six-page manifesto it doesn’t outline how it will manifest a referendum. There’s page after page of grievance politics and bigging up their record in government, such as tackling the cost of living and the focus on renewable energy. But once again, the SNP would be able to govern far more effectively if they had all the powers, particularly over taxation and budgets, which they currently don’t.

Despite my cynicism and pessimism, like a sucker, I’m voting SNP on the constituency ballot and the Greens on the list. Voting SNP at this point is part Stockholm Syndrome, part Catch 22. You’re trapped. Think of it as a similar dilemma to that faced by Josef Fritzl’s kids, or where they technically his grandkids too? Little doubt they debated whether they should try to escape his basement. If you’ve lived in captivity all your life, escaping and giving the outside world a try can feel risky, even unwise, but remaining in a dungeon under his yoke is also a shitty outcome.

Perhaps a better, less grotesque analogy, is akin to the jilted wife with the philandering husband who keeps turning a blind eye to his misdeeds, no matter how brazenly he flaunts it in her face and humiliates her. Eventually she will succeed and endure because his prostate will not. It’s a question of time, and how long you need to wait. All we have left with the SNP is a faint hope that this time loyalty will be rewarded with an unexpected change of behaviour.

So, I make this promise, the timescale of my support for the SNP is the equivalent of a middle-aged prostate gland. Mine is this erection, sorry, election. After 2026, assuming they win a majority, if there’s no serious proposal for a referendum within that parliament term, I will no longer vote for them. Rewarding their failure simply cannot continue, but given the dismal state of things right now, what’s one more dice roll?

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Song Of The Day – L’hôtel Particulier (Prise Complète) by Serge Gainsbourg

From the reissue “Histoire De Melody Nelson” (2011)

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Song Of The Day – At Les by Carl Craig

From the album “More Songs About Food And Revolutionary Art” (1997)

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Arteta’s Arsenal – and why their methods are bad for the game

This Premier League season has been bleak. The quality of play is the worst in over a decade, and as a spectacle it has not been compelling. You have to go back to Antonio Conte’s insufferably dull Chelsea side winning the league at a canter and Leicester City’s miracle campaign in 2014/15 which saw Spurs, yes, that Spurs, finish second, to find worse.

While this and the antics and tactics of their peculiar, pessimistic manager and his infatuation with light bulbs is responsible for cultivating a perception of distaste aimed in their direction, Arsenal fans surely won’t care what the haters say. Having finished league runners-up three years in a row and it being twenty-two years since their last league title, for their fans, desperate ends justify Arsenal’s disgusting means.

Arsenal’s influence on the game concerns me more than being subjected to an unpalatable reality where Mikel Arteta is labelled a league title winning manager and, as a result, becomes more self-righteously smug than ever. Success is subject to imitation, and we’ve already observed that some managers simply aren’t good enough to resist copying aspects of Arsenal’s approach.

Most Premier League sides are now dabbling with an Arteta favourite, and one of football’s biggest eyesores – long throws. Not to mention other ugly tactics of the Tony Pulis school – crowding the goalkeeper at corners and, to help with that, using a back four consisting of all centre backs. Arteta also encourages use of the more established dark arts, namely cheating, such as constantly whining at referees and gaming them by diving at the slightest of touches, at a frequency we’ve not yet witnessed before.

I’ll concede this isn’t a convincing argument, or anything more than a coincidence, but I find it interesting that Arsenal’s cynicism mirrors the attitudes and behaviour of the far right in politics. As Arsenal and Arteta get closer to success, the standard and style of their football decays to a defensive, physical and sceptical morass. By comparison, in response to increased ethnic and religious diversification, would you say that neo-cons and Zionists have become more or less dogmatic, parochial and hostile to minorities, and forms creativeness, ingenuity, expertise and abstractness over the last decade?

Forms of unscrupulousness further corrosiveness in the culture. Case in point – placating the colonial right-wingnuts and their confected civilization war of Judeo-Christianity versus Islam, that taps into Renaud Camus’ great replacement theory, has delivered us a proxy class war that maintains and centralises the power and wealth for the few. This inevitably leaves us demoralized and fatigued with the chemtrails of that process; political corruption, inflation, wage stagnation and widening wealth inequality (hint, they’re all linked) and that fixing it through politics feels seemingly intractable.

Football should offer an escape from the general mundanity and problems of the every-person and concerns about political and geopolitical strife. Indulged by the inverted snobbery of referees and complacent ex-professional pundits, now football is being sullied too and you’re faced with a grim concoction of perpetual diving, playing for territory by blasting the ball into the corner flag at the kick off and central defenders running into the legs of opposition attackers to earn fouls. Playing for corners and for free kicks in the attacking third, a cacophony of blocking and shirt pulling at corners, taking a minute to dry the ball with a towel before a long throw and four-minute VAR checks are now standard in every match. Not forgetting, how fucking could you, the biggest blight on the game – a tangible increase in various forms of time wasting; the goalie re-spotting the ball at a goal kick four times, even at the cost of a yellow card, and feigning injuries.

Elements of this dismal list broadly describes the attritional, territorial, scrappy, brutish, straight line running, elbow pumping quagmire you’d associate with the dross sport that is Rugby Union, not association football. Only the Welsh, Boris Johnson, grouse beaters and tweed wearers enjoy watching such a mess. Folk consume football for all kinds of reasons, and one of them is to witness excellence, sophistication and ambition, especially from a side aiming to be league champions.

Then there’s the sense Arsenal may achieve success by default. Sometimes you’re in the right place at the right time. But this iteration of Manchester City isn’t of the level of the treble winning side. Liverpool will hope they’re having a gap season. United and Chelsea keep sacking managers and can’t quite get their act together, and the rest are the rest.

If Arsenal do succeed, I suspect, once the relief of finally getting over the line dissipates, it will be replaced by a hollowness. A retrospective of successes should elicit pride, but will winning a mediocre Premier League in such a cowardly, functional fashion be remembered fondly by Arsenal fans ten years from now?

George Graham’s 1989 title winning side, while boring, and immortalized by the sarcastic “1-0 to the Arsenal” chant, didn’t cheat and therefore their achievement commands respect. No, the bigger problem is a more approximate and exasperating juxtaposition that will inevitably be made between Arteta’s anachronistic and negative approach and Arsene Wenger’s enlightened one. The 2003/04 title winning Arsenal side went unbeaten in the league, featured Pires, Henry, Bergkamp and Vieira, played with flair, guile, speed, scoring the most goals in the division and conceding the fewest. The style, control, ambition and dominance in which it was achieved exposes Mikel Arteta’s inability to embrace those facets, and, most insidious of all, a lack of trust in his own team, assembled at great expense, to produce football of that standard.

This says something about Arteta, that defacing the game with turgid, soporific football, just to win, is who he is, and, I’d suggest, why Arsenal have struggled to win anything over the last six years. Perhaps this is Arteta’s confession, that he’s not of the same calibre as his contemporaries because we have recent proof that winning in such a grisly way is not a necessity for better men. Despite the financial doping of their theocratic state ownership, it took Pep Guardiola’s arrival and insistence on using technique and movement to monopolize possession for Manchester City to finally dominate English football. Liverpool also won the title under Jurgen Klopp, and last season under Arne Slot, by playing aggressively on the front foot. Pre-Brexit we had a throughline of progressive football; Wenger’s Arsenal, Ancelotti’s AC Milan, followed by the Barcelona side of Messi, Xavi and Iniesta, and then Guardiola’s Bayern Munich.

In the here and now, hope remains that Mikel Arteta will not reap the rewards of his meagre ideas. Arsenal just lost the league cup final to Manchester City with a clueless display. There are seven games left in the league, and they could still flub that. The Champions League is full of teams that could see them off; PSG, Bayern, Barcelona, Liverpool and Real Madrid. We’re counting on them to ensure that playing with skill and adventure remains a prerequisite for success at the pinnacle of the sport.

Otherwise, this Mikel Arteta led regressive wave could become more than a blip – a wrong turn at a motorway junction that becomes an unwelcome detour through a series of rundown post-industrial towns, a road to nowhere good.

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Song Of The Day – Bumpin’ On A Sunset by Brian Auger’s Oblivion Express

From the album “Straight Ahead” (1974)

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