From bad to worse…
So I think it’s fair to say that the press has well and truly gone for the jugular on the whole recession thing. Every other page is RPI this and negative equity that.
I’m more sanguine about the whole scenario to be honest, I think we’ve been living large for the last 10 odd years and could do with a period of sleeve-rolling in order to put things in perspective (I’m a firm believer in the importance of Schumpter’s theory of Creative Destruction or as Sombart put it “again out of destruction a new spirit of creativity arises” - according to Wikipedia anyhow).
However, what I’m less than happy about is reading that the government are planning to spend £3 million of taxpayer’s money on a funeral for Margaret Thatcher. This has baffled me completely. The Labour government have shown time and time again that they have the foresight of Russell Grant when it comes to policies and particularly the economy, yet now when it comes to burying the plundering former leader of the opposition they are all over it like some avant garde dance troupe. What astounds me is that she’s not even dead yet! Can you imagine how the minutes of a meeting of the cabinet must go:
- Economy: action - deferred until Q4 (we haven’t got a scooby on this one!)
- Knife crime: action - take perpetrators to hospital to see victims (minute updated: actually don’t)
- Eco-Towns: action - employed Wayne Hemmingway (yeah the fashion designer) as a designer (what the fuck!) to add some credibility to the cause.
- Obesity: action - appointed a new Tzar of Chips & Fizzy Drinks, John Prescott.
- Death of Margaret Thatcher: action - eagerly anticipated, so much so let’s plan a £3m party/funeral!
The government has clearly run out of ideas and conviction, it’s a sad State of affairs, quite literally.
Have a look at this clip from the satirical genius of Spitting Image…spot the difference between then (the early 90s) and now.
Click moar for the lyrics
Dad believed what Maggie (Tony/Gordon) said
Get a mortgage buy a home
So dad took out a great big loan
For a while there we were chuffed
Now the market has collapsed
And we’re absolutely stuffed
Our house, in the middle of a slump
Our house, no one wants to buy this dump
Dad is desperate to sell
But now our homes worth even less
Than a pension from Maxwell (share in Northern Rock)
Our living room’s a mess
Full of magistrates and bailiffs
Trying to repossess
Our house, in the middle of the boom
Our house, it was worth a small fortune
Our house, left us in a dreadful state
Our house, why the hell’d we decorate
We really caught a cold
Nowhere we can go to now
All the council houses have been sold
Our dads taken some stick
He’s still voting Tory (Labour) though
By God he must be thick
Our house, didn’t work out like we planned
Our house, prices dropped by fifty grand
Our house, threw us out and changed the locks
Our house, it is now a cardboard box
