Part 1 – Paddy
Surprising to no one, the biggest players in law-making aren’t those excitable creatures we elect to occupy a couple of inches of green bench. The real power lies in the hands of those with big money and it is their representatives which pull the necessary strings in the halls and cubby-holes of Westminster.
Lobbyists, the products of private education and businesses even more nefarious than politics, sliver between power centres private and public without giving it a thought. Influence of this sort – employed by oilies, real estate emperors and arms contractors – has become such a staple of British politics that many can’t imagine the system without it (at least it has helped keep Private Eye in business). Donald Trump (for President 2016!) recently revealed how it “works” across the Atlantic. The confusion in tenses is his fault:
“I will tell you that our system is broken. I gave to many people [including some in this race], before this [election campaign], before two months ago, I was a businessman. I give to everybody. When they call, I give. And do you know what? When I need something from them two years later, three years later, I call them, they are there for me.”
One of the people who was there for Trump was that insufferable She-Clinton, who attended the former’s daughter’s wedding following a considerable donation to the latter. I wonder if she did similar for her fans across the dictatorship cicuit?
God save the Queen they wail. In a country so pleased with its history of triumphing meritocracy, liberty and equality before the Law, the continued existence of the Royal Family, and their hysterical groupies, is a real brainache. During the Diamond Jubilee celebrations a few years ago the shrill royalism reached fever-pitch.
Anyone not waving a mini British flag and spouting verbal diarrhoea about just how great Her Maj is, were treated to extreme abuse by some of the greatest unthinkers of our time (levels usually reserved for paedophiles or investment bankers).
It’s about time we do away with the economic drain that seeped from the loins of Henry VIII, and Europe’s worst absolutist rulers. Hopefully then we will be able to shed the culture which insists we worship completely unremarkable mammals that it does so much to instil, too.
“A stupid person’s idea of what an intelligent person is like”. Peter Hitchen’s assessment, as it so often is, of Fry is right on the mark. After spitting on the memory of this country’s greatest ever comedic writer, P.G. Wodehouse, with his portrayal of Jeeves, Fry sought the mantel of Britain’s premier “public intellectual”. The same public which overwhelming swallows the line which says that privatization of the utilities they own isn’t theft, gulped this new projection of Fry with vim.
Put a monkey or a professional footballer in front of an autocue, give them answer cards and an earpiece connected to Wikipedia-savvi researchers and they, too, can look smart. Somehow the QI presenter manages to dazzle viewers with his powers of regurgitation, dressed up in upper-middle class snobbiness.
Give a man a reputation for being an early riser and that man can stay in bed until noon, Twain once wrote. Stuff a metaphorical plum into the mouth of an Englishman, however uninspiring his mind may be, and the inferiority complex of the British mass will kick in, ready to serve.
The last three are self-explanatory:
People From Yorkshire