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Sunday, 24 November 2013

A new Dr Who... a new Scotland?

I hadn’t noticed the little blue coffee shop in the park until the dug pished oan it. The guy opened the door an’ stared at me. Cheeky clown. Him aw dressed like some charity shop ned wi’ a big lang scarf an’ a wee funny tie.

“Wit time is it pal?” he asked me.

Ah took ma mobile out ma pocket an’ checked.

“Ha’ past eight, pal. Ye’ opening, like? I wudnae mind a wee caperchino …”

“Eh? Wit? Oh. Na, pal. This isnae a wee coffee shop. It’s a time machine and space roaket.”

He wiz pure taiken the piss.

“You’re a cheeky clown. When are ye opening?”

He looked down at Sparky.

“Ah supposed I’ve never had a wee dug as a space buddy. Or a jaikey clown fer that matter.”

“Hey, pal,” sez I. Less of yer jip.

He smiled at me. He looked like a junky, like. Nae teeth at the front an’ aw pale an stuff.

“Ah’ve jist regenerated. Ye’ don’t happen tae have a wee mirror oan ye?” sez he. Ah didnea know wit “regenerating” wiz. Our area wiz “regenerated” an’ the rents went up an’ then they sterted tae sell the hooses aff tae rich students an’ snobs. Ah kinda guessed he wiz sayin’ he had jist put his clobber oan. But his accent wiz no fae roon oor way. More like somewhere like an island or sumthin.

“No pal, but ma phone camera reverses like. “

I let him look at hesel’. He looked kinda upset an aw.

“Jings,” he sed, “no Dr Who nae mair. Mair like Dr oan the medics or somethin’!”

I hunea a clue wit he wiz oan about like. I jist thought, ‘Why would a jaikey clown be allowed to be servin’ caperchinos?’

“Are ye goanea get the coffee oan, like, pal?”

He looked at me again and smiled.

“Oh wit a clever TARDIS!” sez he. “Aw course!” sez he.

“Hey, pal,” sez I, “Ahm nae tardis.” I didnae nae wit he wiz oan aboot, but he wiznae getting’ away wi’ that.

“Naw, pal. Not you. The… ach, never mind. Come oan in and we’ll get ye a coffee.”

Now, ahm nae saft touch, like, But ah wiz a wee bit feart about going in there. He went in before me, an’ before ah could say onything, wee Sparky had followed him.

Now, when ah tell ye wit ah saw, ye’d think ahm pullin’ yer chain.

He sed, “aye pal, it’s bigger…”

“Christ,” sez I. “The inside isnae finished, pal. Huv you bin sleepin’ rough in here?”

“Naw pal. This is ma hame. Sit yersel’ down. Ahl get the coffee oan.”

Now, he pressed buttons an’ danced aroon and twisted we turny things. He was definitely oot a’ his scone. But then something strange happened. The whole place started to shake and make a funny noise.

“Aff we go to fight ma’ wors’ nightmare of a enemy!”

“Ah jist wan a wee caperchino wi’ chocolate powder oan the tap pal!” sez I.

He danced and pranced aroon’ the big funny table in the middle of the big room. An’ that’s when it dawned oan me. These coffee places had a nice wee bit a room at the back. I used to wonder where they stored aw their coffee and wee nut biscuits an’ aw, when the place wiz shut. Now ah knew.

“There! 1978! Jist afore she wrecked the place!”

He ran to the door and shouted, “Come oan tae ah show you pal!”

An’ what he showed me knocked ma sidey ways. A’ NHS that worked. Schools full of books. Students wi’ full grants tae tide them o’er while they learned. Work oan the shipyards, collierys, and people with plenty aw money tae pay their electricity and gas.

Wit me an’ Sparkey saw wiz well kept council estates, nae one up to their neck in debt because of mortgages an’ Wonga; and pawn shops nearly goan, nearly a thing of the past. We saw free prescriptions, free dentists, free opticians...

We saw fantastic music, an beautiful art aw by workin’ class men an’ women. We saw working class politicians making decisions for working class people an’ the Aristocracy dying off. We saw a world where people had hope. An’ then we saw her, sewing seeds of discontent, jealously and greed.

We zoomed through time an’ space… and we defeated Daleks and Cybermen and creepy wee statues you couldnea blink at.

“What aboot her,” sez I? “Are you gonnae defeat her before she wrecks things again? Before pensioners die av the cold, before people lose work, before they lose hope, before working class people become almost another species to these taller, posher nuggets?”

“Naw,” sez he. “That’s aw up tae you nuggets in 2014. She’ll be in the groon’, but you can vote to turn yer wee country aroon. Tha’s why the TARDIS made me a Scot this time. Tae show you what an independent Scotland could look like.”

An’ then he dumped me an’ Sparky back in the park.

“Now get tae … and don’t make me huv tae dae yer work again. Daleks an’ the likes are my bag. Tories are yours. Go vote them oot a’ existence.”

An he wiz away. An I knew wit ah had tae do.

Ah registered tae vote an’ like millions o’ others, ah voted YES in September 2014…

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