The Georgetown Heckler

News | September 17, 2014

Scotland Must Vote Nae on Independence

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On 18 September, the people of Scotland will choose whither to separate from the United Kingdom and become a free nation. This referendum is just another part of the centuries-long struggle of our people against the tyranny of the English bastards to the south—a struggle in which I am proud to hae played no small part.

Now, I know what you all be thinking: “Wallace, you died over 700 years ago. Edward Longshanks had you eviscerated, emasculated, and beheaded! How can you be writing this editorial?”

No arguments here. It’s right hard for a man to forget having his baws chopped off while watching his innards burned in front of him. But I gave my life for the freedom of mah countrymen, and so whinever the cry goes up for Scottish liberty, so too am I there in spirit. And thus it is that, with mah bona fides as a proud Scottish fighter established, I want to encourage all of Scotland’s sons and daughters to vote nae on the independence referendum tomorrow.

Why? Well, let me be honest: the Scots are simply not prepared for independence.

While I enjoyed killing Englishmen with my sword, my passion has always been the economic prosperity of Scotland.

An artist's rendering of what William Wallace looked like while not dead.

An artist’s rendering of what William Wallace looked like while not dead.

You see, the Scots have gone soft over the years. Every January, they sit around at thair Burns suppers listening to poetry. When I was a wee lad, the only use a Scotsman had for poetry was to wipe his arse. And I dinnae care what you saw in Braveheart; in mah day and age, the Scots did not go parading aboot in skirts! (That reminds me: STOP READING THIS IN MEL GIBSON’S VOICE! That Aussie bastard is more sot than Scot.)

Mah point is, the Celtic warrior spirit that inspired the Scottish people to follow me in open rebellion is long gone. This is a real kinch, fur Scotland is a tough land, a land whaur we see the Loch Ness monster more often than the sun. I worry that today’s Scotsmen cannae survive wi’oot UK subsidies.

Fur example, one of the key arguments for independence is the welfare state that Scots hae come to enjoy will continue to erode under UK rule. Welfare state? Since whin hae the Scottish people needed a damn welfare state? Know whit the welfare state was in the 13th century? A sword. Scotsmen dinnae just sit on thair bahookies waiting to collect the benefits of oil revenues. You needed a handout, you took up yer claymore, grabbed yer fellow clansmen, downed a dram of whisky, then went to bash some skulls in the next glen over. Whin you were done, you’d go skin the other bloke’s sheep, make a jaiket of the wool, and eat a shank of mutton.

The rest of the world isnae too safe either. If the Scots vote for independence, they lose all the UK nuclear weapons stored on thair territory. As a man wha stood down a charge of English cavalry with nothing more than a pointy stick to stop the bastards mowing him down, I admire thair courage. But I tell you all, I wish I had nuclear deterrence at the Battle of Falkirk. You know the tale, and it ends with the English capturing me, dragging me through the street by a horse, pulling out all mah fingernails, and mounting mah head on a pike.

Independent Scotland wull be a weak Scotland. Lose the bomb, and you lose deterrence. And I dinnae mean deterring hostile lands. Nae, I mean scaring off Nessie and her ilk. Afore we got the bomb, we had aboot one monster attack a week. How come you think the UK’s nuclear submarines are kept in Scottish lochs?

I urge all Scots to vote nae on independence. I fought so that mah countrymen could have freedom. But today, that means sticking with the UK. Scotland is a vulnerable land, and so, even if the crop-burning, lass-raping, sheep-stealing English bastards did chop off me baws, I hae to admit that we are “Better Together.”

Alba gu bràth.

William Wallace is a former Scottish landowner and rebel leader. He is rumored to consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse.

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