I was going to lay into Baron Young of Graffham with a vengeance, but at least he has done the moderately decent thing and slung his hook.
Never had it so good? Supermac, you aint, Dave, and you are WAY out of touch.
Some of us have never had it so bad – partner out of work, 76 people going for each vacancy, own job under threat, mortgage to pay, taxes about to rise and the square root of bog all help from the state? Never had it so damned bad, Dave.
Young is, however, just a product of his own party – out of touch with reality because they all come from the same privileged background where the right school tie opens doors. He is a disgrace.
More to the point is that you should judge the prime minister on the people he appoints to advise him. The boy David dumped the old David once his views became public, but I suspect that that was just a political knee-jerk once he saw how the proles were reacting. Every day that goes by shows more and more why you should NEVER EVER trust a Tory.
Oh, dear lord, look what the cat dragged in!
“Lord” Jeffrey Archer has said that anyone who opposes the use of public money for the wedding of the decade has a “curmudgeonly world view“.
What a wordsmith he is! Actually, I remember him more as a convicted perjuror and scribbler of airport fiction. I tried one of his books once – worst ten minutes of my life, and I’ve had root canal treatments!
“Who are this grumpy, envious lot saying ‘I don’t want a royal wedding’? ” he asks.
Well, me for one!
Actually, no, I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I don’t care whether they get married, I just don’t expect to be asked to pay for it. Mr & Mrs Slag over the road didn’t come knocking on my door for a handout when Chardonnay married the bricky, so why should I, as a taxpayer, fork out for Bill and Kate’s bash?
If that makes me grumpy, so be it. If that makes me envious, so be it as well. After all, I come from a class that actually has to work for a sodding living and won’t get a title and a bloody great house from Mumsy. (Remember at this point that properties like Sandringham and Balmoral, which the family regard as “theirs”, were purchased with money from the civil list.)
Archer then goes on to rant about how much money the royals bring in from tourism. True, they do bring in the odd tenner, but I would remind him that people still flock to see Versailles or the Peterhof – and that nearly a century after the Tsar and his family went down to the cellar.
Now, let’s get one thing straight to start with. I couldn’t give a flying corgi who Billy Wales marries, shacks-up-with, shags or significant-otherses. I just hope, for her own sanity’s sake, that Katie fully realises just what she’s marrying into. Certainly Diana didn’t, and never really adjusted to the fact that the palace mafia wanted her only for a very much needed injection of fresh DNA. “Produce an heir, then produce a spare and then get your arse into the background” has generally been the lot of royal wives for centuries. A lifetime in a guilded cage restricted to small talk and smiling for the cameras, while news reporters fawn and grovel over your very bowel movements.
I digress – as usual.
What I DO and WILL object to is the amount of public money that will undoubtedly be thrown at this shindig. The father of the bride, despite cornering the market on mail order balloons and party poppers, sure as hell can’t afford it!
Cast your mind back to 1981. Tory government, country in recession, bitch of a budget and a Royal Wedding.
2010 – Tory government, country in recession, bitch of a budget and – guess what! Dave Best and Denise Royle are trundled out to ease our misery.
It would not surprise me one iota if the Boy David, on one of his evening chats with Brenda, had ordered the old girl to get the young pup up the aisle to marry his squeeze-of-nine-years.
“The country needs a tonic, Ma’am.” or, to put it another way – bread and circuses!
Need I say more?
Well, I’m bloody well going to.
I know that Norman Tebbit is (technically) still alive, but it looks ever increasingly like IDS not only inherited the constituency of Chingford but His Lordship’s four working brain cells. At least the millionaire IDS moves slightly with the times and knows that the unemployed can’t now afford to save for a bike and have to catch the bus.
Today’s raft of announcements left me spitting cornflakes at the telly. One wonders whether Duncan-Slaphead actually lives in this country.
It’s all very well to say “three strikes and you’re out” and stigmatise the jobless in the way that the Tory party traditionally does. But answer me a simple question, Dunc – where are the bloody jobs? I saw him on breakfast news this morning – asked that very question, and he very quickly and obviously changed the subject. He did, at least, claim that Jobcentre had handled 450,000 vacancies (mostly of the burger-flipper variety), but that is small comfort to the 3,000,000 plus currently out of work or “economically inactive”. (During the six months that my other half was out of work and claiming jobseekers allowance Jobcentre was about as much use as a hand-knitted condom.) And you don’t make the figures look any better by sacking half a million civil and public servants.
On top of that we have the idea of giving the long term unemployed four weeks of manual labour, litter picking and the like – another bloody scheme to give the impression of doing something while actually achieving the square root of smeg-all – rather like the YTS, another failed Tory employment policy. If there’s work that needs to be done then create some real jobs.
The sad fact is that we’ve heard all IDS’s claptrap before.
I knew this lot were going to be bad, but cheeses, this is depressing.
Where were you on 31 March 1990? There’s a good chance that at least one of you was in Trafalgar Square protesting about the Poll Tax – a demonstration that turned rather icky.
Yesterday’s demo in London saw 50,000 students marching against the increase in tuition fees – that screeching handbrake turn that will haunt Nick Clegg for ever. It’s quite right that they should demonstrate. University education benefits everyone and slapping the cost up will, despite Cleggy’s sugary words, inevitably and inexorably restrict it to the sprogs of the better off. (What do you want to be when you leave Eton and Oxbridge, son? Chairman of the BBC or Prime Minister.)
What is sad about yesterday is that, also it seems inevitably and inexorably, it turned into a smash-fest at Millbank Tower. (I digress momentarily to suggest that, as this is one of the ugliest buildings in London, was Cameron’s campaign HQ and had previously housed the egregious Mandelson, it should be bulldozed forthwith and the site ploughed with salt.)
No. What is REALLY sad is that the violence and thuggery lets the Boy David off the hook. He managed to take five minutes out from his first big international freebie to talk about it and he can concentrate on the broken glass and the spray tagging rather than why so many people are so dreadfully pissed off with his policy. (I discount Cleggy at this point – that back-flipping little runt has gone feral.) Even Baroness Warsi – the Dolores Umbridge of modern politics – jumped on the wizard night bus and went straight for the platitude potion.
We are, at least, back in the pattern. Tory government = riots in the streets.
This is not the first and it will not be the last.
You have been warned.
Old woolly Woolas the ex-Immigration Minister and, if the Courts have their way, soon to be ex-MP seems to have learnt very little from the beating Parliament has taken over the last couple of years.
For those that don’t live here or have been asleep since May, Woolly has been found guilty by an Election Court of telling lies about his opponent. Now, whatever we may think, or know, about politicians telling lies, it is an offence under the Representation of the People Act to gob out a load of porkies about your opponent during an election campaign. I, as a veteran of many election campaigns, know that. Woolly knew that before he sanctioned his rather unfortunate publications. (Besides, ignorance of the law has never really been an acceptable defence.)
Being weird, I’ve actually read the judgement of the Election Court which annexed the offending leaflets. I’ve seen them and, again as an election veteran, I can tell you that they go way beyond anything I would ever have allowed, designed, printed, published or distributed. Attack the policy by all means – even have a go at the guy’s record – but personal attacks of the kind Woolly was up to are a no-no – particularly when the allegations aren’t damned well true!
Does this odious moron know anything about morality? It seems morality got sent off on a three week bender because the Party was marginally less popular than a dose of the clap and Woolly faced losing his ticket on the Westminster gravy train.
What is all the more depressing is the calibre of support he’s getting from various corners. Labour MP Graham Stringer is quoted as saying that election battles in marginal seats were not “Sunday-school outings“. He went on “If the courts get involved in elections when people go over the top on policy and sometimes tell lies then we are going to have a very strange electoral process in future.”
Yes, Graham, it might encourage some of you sleazy buggers to clean up your act.
It seems the pope and his friends are becoming a little too fond of the Nazi analogies.
Back in April this year Fr Raniero Cantalamessa, who is the pope’s preacher, likened what the church was going through as a result of the child sex abuse scandal to the persecution of the Jews under Hitler. Yesterday the old man drew parallels between the Nazi tyranny and “atheist extremism”, whatever that might be.
The owner of the world’s most famous smoking handbag should very well understand Nazi ideology having been a Hitler Jugend himself. (The Vatican now tries desperately to underplay this, saying that he was only doing what everyone his age was required to do.)
At the age of five Ratzinger is reported to have said Continue reading Joe and his former boss
Today is a special day in my family. It would have been my father’s 85th birthday. Today is also the day in which we “welcome” another octogenarian to the United Kingdom. Both men preached the gospels – one I admired immensely (and still do) the other I abhor, and I offer no prize for guessing which one is which.
There has been enormous controversy concerning the pope’s visit, and quite rightly so. Let me get one thing straight. I have no objection to the pope coming to this country as head of the catholic church and spiritual leader of his flock. I do have strong objections to him coming here on a full blown state visit, partly at my expense.
First things first – the Vatican City State is not really a nation state Continue reading Papa has landed
What seems now like an age ago, a work colleague pointed me in the direction of a web site selling these here new fangled electric cigarettes.
Now – fess up – I’ve been a forty a day man for the best part of forty years. (Which, incidentally, equates to puffing my way through a 35 mile long cigarette. Worse still, I’ve thrown away a five mile long dogend, but I digress.)
To kick that sort of habit takes a boatload of willpower or some serious alternative chemicals. And I’ve tried the lot – cold-turkey (lasted about 24 hours), patches, inhalers and even some stuff you can get on prescription, called Champix, which is supposed to lessen the cravings. Nothing worked, so I wasn’t holding out too much hope.
However, I took the plunge and ordered the kit. What the heck – it was only fifty quid and if it didn’t work I could chuck it in the next car boot sale. It arrived promptly and I did nothing much with it for about three months. Had a bit too much on my plate at the time to fart about with something else. I’m beginning to wish Continue reading Going Smokeless
Yeah – I know it’s a Bank Holiday, but you don’t expect such august a body as the BBC to field the second eleven on the sub editor’s desk. Just lifted this straight off their story about the Emmy’s:
“Sheen’s third outing as former British prime minister Tony Blair earned him his first Emmy nomination, for The Special Relationship.
But he lost out to Al Pacino, who scooped a rare TV award for his role as an advocate of doctor-assisted suicide in You Don’t Know Jack.
It is an account of the close working bond between Mr Blair and former US president Bill Clinton. Dennis Quaid, who portrayed President Clinton, was also up for an acting award.”
If there really WAS a suicide pact between Blair and Clinton I think we should be told.