Rab McNeil
Voting en bloc 12 April 2010 The point is that these were to be places of peace, yea, even amidst the hurlyburly in the area: tourist buses tootling by, bobble-hatted oddballs and long-coated Americans ambling in and oot of Holyrood Palace, and flak-jacketed policemen with expressions that say: “It was fine and interesting for the first couple of hours, what with keeping the place safe for democracy an’ all. But now I’m so bored I could bung myself in the pond.” But even bunging oneself in the pond – and we’ve all felt like it at times – is not possible at the moment (nor has it been for months) as these supposed places of reflection and recuperation are drained and fenced off yet again. This time, it’s all part of a bigger operation. We’re talking bollards. Not just bollards, but blocks, great concrete lumps that now sit, in their attractive grey hues, scattered all over the patio area of the building. Do not, please, imagine that these lumps are shapeless. Heavens, no. For these have been (all together now): designed! And what does design cost, ladies and gentlemen? That’s right. Design-costs-money. In this case, £1.25m to be exact. It sounds almost like a bargain. Where public or big private money is concerned, it’s rare for anything to cost less than £1m. The CEO wants an egg sandwich? Let’s call some meetings, have an away-day or two, get consultants in, hire more security, order a feasibility study, and run a PR campaign. Cost? Oh, say £1.1m. He wants cress on the sandwich? Cancel everything! I’ll just get my calculator out. Ah, that’s £1.6m, or 1.8 if he insists his cress is organic. It says here that the blocks also double as benches. Hmm, there are a couple of problems with this. First, old wives’ tale or not, I’m not running the risk of getting piles. Secondly, these are supposed to be security barriers. Are they planning to use as human shields or what? But let’s get back to the cost. It was £1.25m because the blocks-cum-benches have been designed to resemble upturned boats and leaves. These, you’ll recall, form the arboreal-maritime theme of the Parliament building. Do not titter. I liked the boats and shrubbery idea. About the only thing I did like, as it turned out. I remember standing on the slopes of yon Arthur’s Seat one day when the drapes came off the front of the building. Ladies and gentlemen, I almost wept. We’d had such high hopes. And there it was: a technical college facade from circa 1974. How could they do this to us? Oh, let’s not go there again. Critics have pointed out that similar, but more basic, barriers were put up at Edinburgh Airport for £150,000. And, remember, terrorists have form attacking airports in Scotland. But why put these things up now? I agree it’s better late than never. But it’s years since the terrorism threat from loony fundamentalists was first announced, and a good while since they rammed a jeep into the frontage of Glasgow Airport. Indeed, if our authorities were going to have carved barriers, why not commission one of Smeato standing outside the entrance with his arms folded and an expression on his face that says: “What you lookin’ at?” (national motto of Scotland)? It’s always possible, of course, that the blocks have been erected to stop the Phantom Banana Thief getting into the place and going about his – or, indeed her – slippery business. Readers will doubtless be aware that a banana figured among items recently reported lost or stolen by staff in the national nuthouse. Other purloined objects included linen napkins, bus tickets, a kettle and a bottle of champagne. What are things coming to when you can’t leave a bottle of bubbly lying around your workstation without some sod nicking it? My own belief is that this is an inside job. Some psychotic individual is sitting at home with a room full of these items. A thousand parliamentary passes, featuring photos of their owners, also went missing and these, I fear, are pinned to the walls of the miscreant’s room, where he (I’m convinced it’s a he now) dances to tribal drum music, with a bone through his nose and a shrunken skull dangling on his chest. Please do not be alarmed. He’ll soon be discovered. One day, he’ll walk into the debating chamber with traces of goose fat still smeared to his forehead, as dozens of passes fall from his pocket. Tip to security: keep an eye on the Labour back-benches (that would certainly explain the banana). 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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