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218 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2021
See, ah figured oot what gave the elite their power, eh? It wisnae their lands or titles. It wis their education. Ma weapon ae choice wisnae a rifle or a chisel, it wis a library caird. It suddenly dawned oan me that education is indeed power. And there’s nuttin maire dangerous in this country than a workin man wae a library caird who isnae afraid tae use it.
There wis nae grand monuments wae there names oan it. Or even a park bench tae remember thum by, there wis only me. In the end though, what defined their years oan this planet wis a piece ae paper tae say when they arrived and when they departed. That’s the workin class autobiography.
Those who sit oan the throne ae power dinnae want the likes ae us hinkin aboot or questionin the world aroond us. Insteed, they want mindless drones sittin aboot scratchin their baws in the hope the lotto will gee us a wey oot ae poverty. The last hing they want is us creatin oor ain pathwey acroass the minefields ae life. But that’s exactly what ah planned tae dae.
Ah’ve soon cloacked a couple ae other writers who, like massel, huv strayed awey fae the flock. Ah spoated thum by the wey they took their complimentary gless ae bubbly fae yin ae the waiters. Like me they looked as if they hud jist been passed the rotten corpse ae a deed bairn. Everboady else appears tae be caught up in the moment as they mingle and chat awey tae each other between exaggerated moothfulls ae smoked salmon sandwiches. Ah’m riddled wae anxiety. Sae unsure ae massel that yae wid hink ah’m aboot go oot and hae an uncomfortable chat wae Letterman. Jesus, here comes a boay who appears tae huv jist crawled oaff the pages ae The Great Gatsby. This forty-somethin lookin boay is certainly dressed fur the occasion. His stylishly messy warm broon hair compliments the fashionable light navy suit that’s he’s modellin. Suttin that probably coast a small fortune and wis nae doot tailor-made. Even the gless ae bubbly gripped in his hand seems tae fit snugly. And goes taegether as naturally as bacon and eggs. Ah wish he wisnae heidin in ma direction likes but he is.
Sure, the lads and lassies fae ma wey could see places further than the number thirty yin bus could take us tae. But only if yae wur willin tae die fur Queen and capitalism. ‘Here’s a rifle, son. Go oot and shoot cunts.’ Some ae us wants maire than tae be a soldier ae fortune in someboady else’s war. Or, tae spend oor miserable existence sittin behind a desk punchin in someboady else’s cloack. Aw until oor time comes tae an end and wur left wonderin how it aw went sae wrong.
Yae jist need tae look at the land ah come fae tae tell yae there’s nae future withoot action. A land so beautiful that it looks as if it’s been conceived by the mind ae Michaelangelo. Yit there’s five million voices and nae cunt kin hear us.