Pain from the crass

26 March, 2012 (10:51) | All articles | By: Stuart Fraser

Gosh, what a lot of nonsense talked about last week’s Budget from … no, I still can’t do it.

Perhaps in a few years’ time when history has had a moment to reflect on how a massively irritating and totally incapable schoolboy with a weird walk (it’s as if his buttocks are permanently clenched as tight as a limpet shell, and considering he’s an upper-class twit who went to private schools and became a Tory one can readily understand why) became Chancellor and thus explain the inexplicable, it’s quite impossible for me.

Deep breath, start again. After all, I can now type the name of Margaret Thatcher without having to break something the minute I do it.

Oh, by the way, did you read that Thatcher would never have entered politics had she known the devastating impact it would have on her family? In his new memoir, Sir Michael Spicer says she told him in 1995 she wouldn’t go into politics if she had her time again because of “what it does to your family”.

That’s a world of woe, isn’t it? One elementary insight would have spared the nation a decade of apparently irreversible destruction of the fabric of our society, vandalism for which we still pay the price today. And how telling that she was commenting on what politics did to her family, never mind what her politics did to a million other families……

No. Deep breath. Start again.

Ah yes. This fuss about the Budget. It’s perfectly simple, really.

That man’s advisers (and don’t tell me it’s anything to do with him because I shan’t believe it; he’s quite clearly got more than a a few Tory arms up his back cavity working him at any one time and that may explain the walk too) …. Hang on. Deep breath. Start again.

That man’s advisers were quite clearly getting all the things they’d promised to David Cameron’s chums out of the way before the forthcoming Budgets, which are set aside to bribe the electorate into giving these ham-fisted hypocrites another go at the next so-called election.

Tax cuts for the rich? Check. Less of their wealth given to the whining classes, like pensioners? Check. Open the doors of the National Health Service to the private sector? Check. Enable the dozens of Tory MPs with consultancies or directorships with pharmaceutical companies to tell their masters they can order their superyachts? Check. Crass simplistic gesture to mollify the Stone Age blue rinses at conference? Ah yes, the minimum price on booze for poor people. Check. ‘Screw you’ gesture to make chinless spineless wonders look tough? Keeping the fuel tax rise – check.

(For detail of the way the great and the good are fouling up our health service for their own ends, visit http://socialinvestigations.blogspot.co.uk/ and look for NHS privatisation. The devil is indeed in the detail, and thanks for another good spot to Brother Fiddle).

It’s all there and it’s all completely unsurprising. What did you expect from a Conservative government? Peace, love and selfless gestures for the greater good? I suppose we could be shocked at the crassness with which it’s been handled, but we’re talking Cameron and O… Os…… his Chancellor here. They define crassness, vacuous, soundbite-driven neat-suited silk-tied crassness, not, given their animal cunning, through ignorance but through the sheer couldn’t-care-less-what-we-try-to-get-away-with bravura of their crassness. They, indeed, are all in it together, ‘it’ being profiteering in times of great distress to the majority regardless of right and wrong. And the rest of us are certainly all in it together, ‘it’ right up to our necks, with no paddle in sight.

It would be a little better if we could say we’d made our bed with our  votes, and will jolly well have to lie in it, but there’s precious little in this coalition’s policy announcements for which anybody was given the courtesy of an electoral say-so.

No, all we can do is pledge to remember the crassness with which these people forced their manicured hands into the nation’s till and extracted as much as they possibly could while baying and hooting down their long noses at the funny poor people kicking up a fuss. In 1997 we finally remembered, though much good it did us. Maybe next time we remember, we really could make a difference.

For a much better-written and funnier call to arms, try this:   http://gu.com/p/36dny/tw , which begins: “The anxiety of living under a Tory government is that you’re only ever a few days from the next national bad luck lottery draw. You know something spectacularly horrible will be announced next week. You just don’t know whose unlucky balls they’ll be holding.”

Once again, I’m indebted to that godfather of all silver surfers, Brother Fiddle, for the link.

And now, the good news

Dear Brother Stents managed to stay awake long enough to send me this, which I hope affects you as much as it did me.

It’s a letter sent to the headteacher of Kirkcaldy High School after the school sponsored a lunchtime for pensioners. An elderly lady received a new radio as a raffle prize and was writing to say thank you.

“Dear Kirkcaldy High School ,

“God bless you for the beautiful radio I won at your recent Old Age Pensioners luncheon. I am 87 years old and live at the Raith home for Elderly Ladies. All of my family has passed away so I am all alone. I want to thank you for the kindness you have shown to a forgotten old lady.

“My roommate is 95 and has always had her own radio; but, she would never let me listen to it. She said it belonged to her long dead husband, and understandably, wanted to keep it safe.

“The other day her radio fell off the nightstand and broke into a dozen pieces. It was awful and she was in tears. She asked if she could listen to mine, and I was overjoyed to have the chance to tell her to f*ck off.

“Thank you for that wonderful opportunity.

“God bless you all.

“Yours sincerely,

“Ella.”

Comments

Comment from Iain Bassett
Time March 27, 2012 at 10:00 am

Would that be “letter Tourettes”?

Comment from Hamster
Time March 27, 2012 at 12:18 pm

Not that I give a fig or wish to undermine our favorite blogger but just to point out as well as the Cabinet the Shadow Cabinet is also littered with millionaires. The richest MP of them all (probably), Shaun Woodward, Labour MP for St Helens South. His property portfolio includes a £1million ski lodge, £1.35million London flat, £7million in the Hamptons, £5million villa in Mustique plus a few more. I’m guessimating, but the top MP’s playing politicial games, I doubt none of their decisions impact on their lives and therefore they are detached from the masses and thats why its more important to vote in local elections, also get involved in things that you care about. It maybe Parish Council or even a Cricket Club or the School Governors where, rumour has it, a certain blogger had a case of forum Tourettes a few weeks ago.

Comment from Hamster
Time March 27, 2012 at 12:59 pm

This weeks Hamster Top Tip – whether it be a salad at lunch, a glass of wine in the afternoon, a late afternoon/early evening Bar-B-Q or a combination of all 3 – just go Al fresco!

Comment from StentsRus
Time March 28, 2012 at 7:32 am

On the subject of unmentionable names may I offer a little assistance?
Ozzy Osbourne refers to himself as “The Prince of F***ing Darkness”. Therefore, the present Chancellor (obviously Ozzy’s lovechild) should be be refered to as “The Spawn of Effing Darkness”. This sits quite well with his PM pal “Effing Dave”.
Now where have I heard that name before?

Comment from Stuart
Time March 28, 2012 at 10:00 pm

Effing Dave! I’m having flashbacks! Help!

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