When I was just a young lad of 3 my parents bought me a tricycle,back then I was one of the lucky ones.
Most kids had no toys whatsoever and had to use ingenuity to either make toys ,build dens ,get chalk ,play hopscotch,in short make your own amusement.
The really lucky ones had a tennis ball and could play the beautiful game all day and night.
At 3 ,football was not yet on my radar, and after last week I wish the hell it had never come on to my radar !
My older brother was of school age and when he went to school which was only about 100 meters from our door I would pedal down and once he was in school I would pedal back home.
That was when my troubles would begin,I would be accosted by one Peter Jones a bully of the first order.
He was a year older than me which at age 3 is a huge difference, he would hit me, push me off of my bike,and my trike suddenly became Peter’s trike.
I ,like a big Jessie would run home to my darling mother who would comfort me and shoosh me and make the world just seem so much better.
Then she would go out and retrieve my tricycle if she could find it,or my nemesis Peter.
If she did find him she would tell him in no uncertain manner not to be nasty and not to hit other children,tell us to shake hands and to play nicely.
As soon as she was out of sight I got thumped and the trike was gone.
Then I would have to wait on my older brother coming home from school so he would retrieve my trike and Peter became very scarce.
This ritual went on for sometime , I don’t really know how long but it seemed to me for weeks and weeks.
Just as when you get old, it is similar when you are very young your mind plays tricks on you.
It may have been weeks ,it may have been days no matter.
One day after the usual beating I ran home to get the gentle caress of my mother .
I knocked on the door crying so loudly and amazingly the door opened before I had even hit the letterbox.
Imagine my surprise when before very eyes was the man, my Superman , my Batman all rolled into one, my father the greatest thing since sliced bread.
Boy was that Peter Jones in deep poo poo now ,boy oh boy I almost felt sorry for him,my dad was going to fix this once and for all.
He did of course,however not quite in the manner I thought when I first saw him in the doorway.
“What happened son” it started off very mildly I began to blurt out my tale of woe you know that way ,in between those deep sobs that make you think you might actually suffocate.
Then came what I now know to be the loaded question,however as a naive 3 year old I sailed right into that trap without even seeing the danger signals.
“Did you hit him back son?”
I knew the correct answer to that question ,easy peasy.
Now I could impress my dad,my hero, I knew from my gentle mother that hitting was wrong.
I stopped sobbing I had the answer for my dad that would be enough to put to an end my torment.
Sobbing subsided and in the loudest voice I could muster “no dad I just ran away and straight here”
Well, there are some moments in your life when time sort of stands still ,when some event seems to go into slow motion,then speeds up.
It was at this moment in time I saw the red flashes in my eyes,I could feel the stinging on my cheek as his hand arrived on my jaw at what seemed the speed of light.
“Don’t you dare come in here crying like a big baby and tell me you didn’t hit back”
“FFS I am a baby “I never said at the time!
Now get back out there and bring your trike home and you better hit Peter back and make sure he never touches you again.
I could see Peter on the street on my trike and because he had taken my trike ,my dad,my hero had slapped me and shouted at me,I was suddenly for the first time in my life full of anger.
I ran as fast as my wee legs would go and threw myself on top of Peter I then punched and kicked and scratched and jumped on all over him ignoring his cries of stop.
As anyone will tell you fighting is tiring and first blow usually wins.
I tired and Peter ran off,never again did he try and take my trike and never again in my life,or to this day have I ever allowed anyone to bully me.
When I returned with my bike,after my first fight and victory my dad opened the door with the biggest smile you can ever imagine.
It got better when my brother returned from school I was given 2/6 (ask your grandpa) which in 1956 was a veritable fortune.
We went to local sweet shop where we spent the lot,it might account for my sweet tooth to this day.
Many years later after my dad was long dead my mother recounted the story.
She told me how upset he had been when hearing I was being bullied and was angry at her for telling me not to defend myself.
Apparently after he had given me a clip ,with tears streaming down his face he stood at the window and was coaching me from afar.
“Hit him with your left son,now your right again with the left,don’t let him up.”
Sometimes you need some tough love to prepare you for life,that was one of those occasions.
I did similar with my own son to ensure he never got bullied ,I have been told since I needn’t have worried ,nobody ever bullied him.
This brings me to my point for too long the YES Movement has been getting bullied and those gentle voices in our group are ,like my mother well intentioned however they too are wrong.
I have had people saying to me be nice to the journalists and maybe they will give us a fair press if you growl back at them they never will be fair to us.
I have news for you folks ,the bar stewards that write for The Foreign owned Press in Scotland are never,ever going to give us a fair crack of the whip.
No matter how many fan letters you send to members of the BBC Scotland ,or STV Current Affairs Dept they will not give balanced coverage.
It will always be 3 Unionists v 1 Independinistas per show,and distorted coverage.
Just ask yourself this after that magnificent radical speech by Nicola confirming radical policy after breathtaking policy,what did the MSM report the Strepsils and Mhari Black was nasty to the Blessed Jeremy.
The latest contrived politician from our pathetic media.
No matter how much you hope that The Daily Record will suddenly stop being the English owned Daily Mirror Group mouthpiece in Scotland and start to support Scottish Independence ,it won’t happen.
Trying to be nice to the Brit placemen and women in our Media will not make them tell the truth or ditch their Cognitive Dissonance.
Staying silent and turning the other cheek is for good Christian folk ,but ask yourself this as they were being nice to the Roman guards at the Coliseum and turning the other cheek how many did that save from being eaten by the lions?
By the same token sitting and saying the SNP really need to do something about all the press lies,good luck with that.
When you actually can tell us what you expect them to do to counter the lies and misinformation by a corrupt media do let us all know.
Understand this the foreign owned media have a narrative NOTHING will sway them from that,they hate the SNP,they loathe the idea of Scottish Self Determination,and they don’t like you much either.
They view us as a colony and inferior to those in the ruling elite, in short they want you to be quiet and get in your box.
They want to ride your trike every day and they will keep taking it every day till you find the courage to say enough is enough.
Now I am not suggesting violence by any means but do not let anyone stop you fighting back.
Some bloggers and commentators on our side get very upset if they hear anyone calling a Scottish Britnat a Quisling.
To that I say get angrier that more than 25% of all the children in Scotland are living in poverty.
When someone tells you that it is wrong to call them traitors , I say it is wrong that disabled people have become recluses because their mobility allowance and vehicle has been taken away by the votes of British Unionists.
By voting for the status quo they have enabled this austerity this downward spiral this society that blames immigrants the unemployed and disabled for the greed of the bankers.
Be angry folks ,however make sure it is controlled anger and do not tolerate their lies .
Educate yourself with facts that is what the elite fear most, an educated electorate.
When one of their hardcore trolls engages with you on FB ,or twitter don’t waste your time ,block and move on,they are there to disrupt ,to troll.
Our Independence will be won on the doorsteps and on the streets ,at the school gates,not on Social media.
We need to be ready ,we need to organize so that when Nicola gives us the green light we are good to go
We will fight with knowledge and facts they only have cliches and soundbites
Reform your YES Groups ,fund raise learn, teach others be ready, we are taking that trike back and never again will anyone but us ride it.