Susan Morrison

Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m off to the Army surplus place halfway along Leith Walk. Don’t want to sound alarmist here, comrades, but they way things are going a bit of camo gear and a pair of sturdy boots might come in handy. Things are going a bit pear-shaped and no mistake.

Friday, 30th August 2019, 12:58 pm
Will we go back to the days of shopping for meat with a ration book  and not being too picky about our choice of cuts? (Picture: Reg Speller/Fox Photos/Getty Images)

Never actually been in a national crisis on this scale before, well, not one where the parliament is deemed surplus to requirements. Apparently Taking Back Control meant giving it all to Boris Johnson and Jacob Rees-Mogg, who increasingly looks like a desiccated enemy of Harry Potter. You half expect him to emit green smoke. Perhaps he does. He’s always sitting on his own on the back benches. Well, not now that Boris nipped along and asked the queen if he could lock the doors like the play park swings in 1960s Presbyterian Glasgow

The last time MPs got slung out of the chamber was in 1625. Things got a bit lairy after that. We got Roundheads, Cavaliers and general warfare breaking out. This became known as the English Civil War, but you bet the Scots got their oar in as well. It’s been rebranded now. Many historians refer to it as the War of Four Kingdoms – England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. To be brutally honest, no one is absolutely sure what the Welsh actually did, but it’s considered bad form to leave them out.

Things ended very badly for Charles I, who went the same way as his grandmother and had his head whacked off by the English. You can take family traditions too far.

On the plus side, though, we got a lot of pubs called the Laughing Cavalier and endless films set around the mid-17th century made during the Second World War to raise our morale, featuring women with low cut dresses and heaving bosoms. Who can forget Margaret Rutherford smouldering at a sneering James Mason in The Wicked Lady.?

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Perhaps we can look forward to some cracking nation-cheering films to cheer us in the midst of this National Crisis that’s rumbling along like an out of control Challenger 2 battle tank taking out Princes Street. We’ll all flock to the cinema to see them, because the leccy’s gone down again, our homes are freezing and the internet is something we only dimly remember.

We’ll have to go back to granny’s cookbooks, people. I sense a spot of rationing coming our way. Well, the health people have been whining about our diet for years. Here’s their chance to get us all on the one ounce of cheese per person per month and a drastic cutback in the sugar intake of your average teenager.

The idea of our teens coming down from the semi-permanent sugar high they get from energy drinks is cause for alarm on its own.

No, we’ll have to look again at eating the bits of animal the cat used to welcome, like cow toenails and sheep ­eyelids. I’m told they were very popular during that last Second World War crisis we had.

Does anyone have a number for Dame Vera Lynn, pictured left? I know we aren’t actually at war with anyone, but you just give young Mr Johnson time. He’s a man who likes his Churchillian speeches, so I’m willing to bet he’s counting down the days when he can rally us to stand against the aggressor state of ­Kiribati. We could scramble our fighter jet from our aircraft carrier. Note the singular.

Dame Vera could belt out a ­sobbing verse or two about them there White Cliffs. Presumably you won’t be able to see them for the clouds of diesel exhaust being emitted by lorries jamming up Dover as they wait for one of the three more Customs officers employed by Boris and Co to sort their paperwork.

Well, who really needs French manufactured cancer treatment drugs anyway? (Hint: I do). Back in the good old days a strong cup of tea saw us through.

Keep calm and carry on procreating

Remember, folks, candles. You don’t want to be caught in the dark, especially if that Jacob Rees-Mogg is about.

Heavens to Betsy, can you imagine that visage shimmering up at you out of the gloom? What a thought.

Now, do take care. I know how much you all love your scented candles, but we really need to go for the plainer variety or the whole nation will be reeking of Antique Rose or Fresh Cut Lavender. We’re thinking 1970s style miners’ strike, here, not 21st century spa.

Incidentally, the birth rate after both strikes in 1972 and 1974 spiked nine months later. This could be a great way to get a few more little Scottish people for the future, so there might be silver lining to this crisis after all.

But, please don’t look at me. That ship has long sailed.