Here is a painful truth. You may need to prepare your safe space in readiness should you trigger during the rest of the paragraph. Are you ready? Then here goes; nobody wants to hurt you. Still standing? It’s true though; unless you have stirred up some animus with somebody you have wronged or against whose own existence you regularly rail, unless you have provoked somebody in some way, nobody, generally, wants to hurt you. Actually, I have over-generalised here; of course there are people who would hurt you just for who and how you are, but none of them are in government.
Monthly Archives: October 2016
One, two, buckle my shoe. From the earliest of our days we hear about numbers. Three, four, knock at the door. Numbers are everywhere; they describe our world. Ton-up, megabyte, 3-D, fourth estate, fifth column… Five, six, pick up sticks. Cashier number nine, please, ‘ten items or less’[sic] buy-one-get-one-free. Seven, eight, interest rate; ‘the pound is worth…’ ‘the FTSE ended…’ ‘At the third stroke’, count your blessings; you just won’t thrive without numbers. Telephone numbers, house numbers, personal identification numbers, National Insurance numbers. Nine, ten… a big, fat zero.
Modern economies are built on castles in the air. We have entire industries depending on a willing belief in their nebulous worth. Entertainers know the fickle nature of their audience and a whiff of scandal can suddenly end a career of decades, no matter what the talent involved. In fact so much scandal has there been in recent years it has created practically a causal link between talent and sexual impropriety. Is this for real, or is it more likely that if the opportunity is there, our base human nature will take advantage of it? I’m going with the latter; it’s far simpler and more pragmatic than searching for the sinister explanation.
Another day, another stupendous carnival in the eternal situation comedy of politics. Forget the soaps, ditch the detective shows, this is the acme of aching sides. Parliament is a three-ring circus right now and Theresa May in fishnet stockings, corset and killer heels is wielding her whip as the all-powerful ringleader. The music swells and the familiar tune crackles out from the speakers. As Entrance of the Gladiators plays through the tinny tannoy the Shadow Cabinet clown car lurches into the arena, steam issuing from the bonnet, different sized eccentric wheels wobbling and comes to a rest with a comedy backfire as all the doors fall off.