There’s a rising tide of bullshit, one that may well drown us all. Through no fault of my own, I was exposed to a few minutes of The Wright Stuff the other morning. Where one panellist explained that, if you give workers too many rights, your firm will go out of business. Similarly, if the Egyptians were to stop raping women on demonstrations, they’ll only go taking part in the political process, won’t they?
I find it horrific that these sort of perspectives are becoming more common as we sink into Cameron’s matmos. Horrific, but not entirely a surprise. We are being governed by greedy and short-sighted imbeciles, who can’t see that if they give away all our money to their wealthy friends, we’ll see no point in generating more income for our insectoid overlords.
It’s a triumph of mediocrity. Mediocre entertainment, mediocre politics, mediocre lives and deaths. Cocaine, the most pathetic drug of all, always swells in popularity when the right take over number ten.
And, with politicians like George Osborne achieving prominence, is it any wonder the ‘opposition’ are too terrified to present an alternative to the Lovecraftian orgy the Bullingdon Society have pitchforked us all into?
Why not read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)
A love story – on home-made acid – narrated by someone first used romatically, then set on fire, by the blue peter team, capering around the pyre like wrinkled vikings.