Monday

My secretary asks if I want a coffee. I say “bring it on”, and she does. Then the phone rings. It’s my brother Douglas. I’m the leader of the Labour Party in Scotland. He’s the Secretary of State for International Development. We’re a very impressive family.

“How’s Burma?” I say. “Bugger Burma,” says Douglas. “What’s this you’ve been saying about a referendum on Scottish independence? Gordon has been giving me hell.” I frown. “You? What has it got to do with you?” Douglas says that he’s not sure the PM realises that we are two different people. Either way, Gordon is very confused. He’s not sure whether I want a referendum or not.

“I said, ‘Bring it on’.” I say. “It should be obvious.” “Nothing is obvious for Gordon,” says Douglas. “You know what he’s like. He’s decided that ‘bring it on’ means you don’t want one. Probably because he doesn’t want one. I think you are due a bollocking.” I give a grim little laugh. “Bring. It. On,” I say. “And you can tell him I said that.” “He won’t understand,” says Douglas. “You’d better call him.”

Tuesday

Nobody understands. I don’t know why.

It’s perfectly simple. The Scottish Nationalists want independence, and we don’t. So, they want a referendum, and we don’t want a referendum. But, although we don’t want a referendum, we reckon that if there is one, we want it soon, so that people are more likely to want what we want them to want. Which is to say, not to want anything.

So, in saying that we want one now, we want the SNP to say that they don’t want one now. And they will, because they want to get what they want. And that’s what we want. Because, if they have one when they want, they might get what they want. And who would want that?

I don’t know why Gordon is confused. He must be some kind of idiot.

Wednesday

I still haven’t managed to get through to Gordon. Eventually, he calls me.

“Douglas,” he says. “No,” I say. “What?” says Gordon. “Never mind,” I say. Gordon lapses into a panicked silence. “Bring it on?” I say carefully. “Yes!” says Gordon, who has called to explain that, actually, ‘bring it on’ means that I don’t want a referendum.

“But Gordon,” I tell him. “I do.” “No, Douglas,” says Gordon. “You don’t.” “I’m Wendy,” I remind him.

“No you aren’t,” says Gordon.

Thursday

You’ve got to be careful with Gordon. It’s not that he means to be difficult. It’s just that he doesn’t understand it when people don’t think what he thinks. So he tells everybody else that you think what he thinks, even when you don’t. And they believe him.

“Coffee?” says my secretary. “Bring it on!” I say, but she just wanders away. See?

It’s First Minister’s Questions at midday today, so I have a showdown with Alex Salmond. At about 9.45am, I ask him to meet me for lunch. It’s cunning. I’m messing with his mind.

“Now?” says Salmond. “I’ve just had breakfast. Why would I want lunch at 9.45am?” “Aha!” I say. “So you are ruling out the possibility of lunch?” “Well, aye,” says the First Minister, sounding baffled. “I’ll only want lunch later. At lunchtime.” “Hypocrite!” I say. I can run rings around this man.

Friday

Gordon calls again. “Douglas?” he says. “We need to talk about Burma.” I know he’s the Prime Minister, but I finally snap. “I’m not Douglas!” I say. “I’m Wendy!” “Wendy?” says Gordon.

“Alexander,” I say. “I’m Gordon,” says Gordon. “I know that,” I say. “No you don’t,” says Gordon.

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