Stroppy Teenager Resigns


Last Thursday, thousands of 16 and 17 year olds, voted in the Scottish referendum. Some were disappointed by the result, others delighted. But one teenager has been left feeling that the world just doesn’t understand him…

Mary walks into her son’s bedroom

“Look at the state of this place” she mutters, pulling the curtains open.

“Oh mum, close them!” whines the pile of clothes on the bed.

“ALEX!? What on earth are you doing here? You’re meant to be at work!”

“I quit!” The pile of clothes rolls over and tries to go back to sleep.

“But you can’t quit!” His mother cries, “You’re meant to be running the country!”

“Oh but I don’t want to run the country!” Alex Salmond moans, his face appearing between two pairs of shorts.

Just then, Alex’s father walks in.

“Oh Alistair, darling!” Mrs. Salmond wails, “Alex has quit his job! Please talk some sense into him.”

“He’s done what!?” Alex’s father splutters, “But what are you going to do for money? How will you afford to buy your old man here his eyebrow dye!?”

“I’ll just use the money I already have, duh!” Alex snaps.

“And what if we take your money away and stop your allowance?”

“Oh I didn’t think about tha…”

“Alex!?” Interrupts his mother, “Why have you drawn a massive unicorn on the wall!?”

“Ah well it’s our national animal, you see…”

“Oh my God, Alistair, he’s on drugs!”

“What!? No it really is…”

“My own son on drugs!” Mrs. Salmond sobs. Alex’s father eyes his son suspiciously.

“He’s not on drugs Mary… this is about a girl, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No! Well sort of… Everybody was saying Britany and Scott were going to break up but they didn’t!” Alex sighs.

“Oh I see and you like Britany.” says his mother, calming down.

“Well, no… I like Scott! And I don’t care what you think, I just want us to run away together and be free for ever and ever!” Alex yells. His parent’s expressions soften.

“Oh Alex, sweety, listen to me. Your dad and I love you no matter what; whether you fancy girls, boys or non-independent countries, OK?” says his mother kindly, “And there’s no point moping around like this, feeling sorry for yourself. Come on, go and have a bath and clean yourself up.”

“OK,” says Alex begrudgingly, “Can I play with my submarine?”

“No!” replies his father sternly, “You can’t have Trident, unless you get your job back.”

“Oh dad, that’s not fair!”

“Yes it is! And to be honest you were only looking after it for David anyway, I should give it back to him.” says his father, searching his lead lined suit pockets.

“But David’s family don’t even have a bath to keep it in, that’s why he lent it to me!” Alex tries to explain.

“Don’t have a Bath!?” his Father exclaims, “Everyone’s got a bath; the Jong-Uns down the road have a massive one with plasma screens and laser beams!

“For the last time…” screams Alex, “…stop believing everything they put in their Christmas letters!”


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