Rab McNeil
Appearances matter 12 June 2009 It’s hard to respect something housed in bare concrete walls, as Holyrood is. All the same, Holyrood is modern, more fairly representative of the people, and willing to learn, as learn it must, since it is the new boy on the block. Some MSPs, despite all stated intentions otherwise, arrived intent on emulating Westminster. From the Tory benches, a few tried copying the “Hyah-Hyah!” (Hear-hear!) of Westminster, a practice I hope I have stamped out, after ridiculing it authoritatively in the pages of the Hootsmon newspaper. Labour, on the other hand, have done their best to imitate the hullabaloo that makes speaking in the House of Commons something akin to yodelling in a hurricane. I had thought this hullabaloo a bad thing – part of me still do, I mean, does – but it depends how it’s done. And, here, I believe I have adduced a difference between the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon peoples. Watching the HoC recently, I noticed that the hullabaloo was ritualistic and carried out in an almost emotionless sort of way. There was none of the hatred and bile too often seen in Holyrood, particularly on the Labour benches; none of those faces screwed up in loathing and outrage. These bitter, thin-lipped Ulster-style explosions are unedifying to witness, and I often think the poor dignitaries in the VIP gallery must wonder what is going on. If they followed up their visit to the national nuthouse with a trip to a footer game, they’d be entitled to conclude that the Scots were a deranged and dangerous people, and to understand research showing most murders in the world are committed by folk of Celtic descent – ostensibly because we cannot abide slights on our honour. But I think it’s simpler than that: it’s because we have the nutter gene. A Northumbrian friend of mine has often remarked on the difference he sees between going to see Newcastle United and coming up here to see Scottish teams. It’s the sheer bile that gets him here, the awful swearing, the utter, gasket-blowing rage, often expressed over whose throw-in it should be. You can see it on the telly. Watch when a player retrieves a ball from the touchline in front of opposing fans. In England, there’s often laughter or simple, straight-faced observation. In Scotland, see them rising out of their seats, their faces twisted with fury and hatred as they shower obscenities down on the opposing player. You say: “But, Bobby, I thought England had the worst reputation for soccer hooligans and that sort of thing.” Dear reader, you are characteristically correct. But their hooliganism is different. It is organised, almost polite and – again – sort of emotionless, in a vaguely Teutonic manner. It is efficient and co-ordinated, whereas ours usually involves a lot of vomit and the hurling of badly aimed bottles (witness Glasgow Rangers in Manchester). I am not drawing a direct comparison between footer hooliganism and parliamentary hullabaloos. But I am drawing an indirect one. And in this, as in many other regards, I believe we can learn from the English, whom I still maintain are the best neighbours a country could hope for, at least north of the Home Counties. We should examine video and anecdotal evidence of their parliamentary hullabaloos and incorporate the best aspect of the practice into our proceedings. Based on this evidence, the presiding orifice should draw up guidelines for the proper behaviour of members in the event of a hullabaloo. To start the ball rolling, it is clear from even a cursory examination that most participators in hullabaloos at Westminster stand up and wave an order paper. This adds a certain decorum to the essentially hooliganistic activity, as the perpetrator is clearly identifying himself, instead of narking away from amid the seated masses. Sitting down and waving nothing only intensifies the impotent outrage that a member feels about whatever is getting his or her horned mammal. Standing and waving a piece of paper also indicates that the member would like to speak, before which most people would be thinking about making a logical case rather than just sitting there, as in Holyrood, shouting: “Right, you, ya basturrd! Ootside!” And that’s just the women. There should also, one feels, be more joyous hullabaloo, as there is in Westminster: cheering one’s leader; joining in the refrains of a speech; just generally letting oneself go in a nice way. It would be like dancing, only with less chance of contracting syphilis. These are just a few ideas to get our hullabaloos more organised and less vicious. Please don’t lost your temper at these suggestions, particularly from a sedentary position. Related articles: Politics and principles 3 September 2010 Hello voters 25 June 2010 Off the menu 11 June 2010 Life but not as we know it 28 May 2010 Magnetic result 17 May 2010 See all articles in this category Submit a comment |
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