A Momentous Year

harpy-imagesA coke and a smile and it’s already 6th of January, most New Year’s resolutions are well on their way to being broken and a whole new seedbed of freshly sprouting tragedies are preparing to break the soil of 2017.    So, will this year be better than last?

No.

At least, not in the eyes of the media harpies who sit on the branches  of the ‘London Bubble’, glaring balefully at me through the window of my northern turret.   Now these are interesting birds:  for they are gifted in their description of impending misery.  The instant I venture to share their wavelength they bombard me with carefully measured doses of doom, interspersed with worthy advice concerning avoidance measures.

Brexit, they persist in wailing, will be a disaster as yet beyond human experience, one we cannot possibly calculate in terms of the millions who will starve, the race riots that will injure us and loot our properties, or the unmitigated fury of the spurned bankers, who will all leave for France.   Have we not already been swept up in a tide of hyper-inflation, with savage price rises, critical supply shortages and assaults by irritable German Federalists?

Well again, no.

In fact, virtually every prediction for Armageddon has so far proved false, apart from the one concerning the lowered value of our dear old dusty English Pound, which, as it turns out, is a boon to industry, because at 2.2 percent the British growth rate for the past year is the highest in the western world.   Meanwhile, across the Channel, the European economies are either languishing or in trouble, one way or another.  The euro is showing all the early signs of terminal disease.

Without indulging in lengthy (and very boring) discussion of comparative ills, the political right is hauling itself up several electoral ladders, notably in the big European players – France, Italy, and possibly even Germany, with electoral processes due to chart their success this year.  Right-wing political thinking is broadly anti-EU, but political science is a lot like theology: a subject with no substance in itself which is guided and reinterpreted by those who administer it.  Where it exists it is upon an ideal or a myth, and the problem for the ministry of a fashionable creed is their vulnerability to being swept aside when events disprove their ineffable vision.  There is no in between:   saints or heretics; the Vox Populae judges only by results.

Britain’s greatest enemy in the execution of Brexit lies within itself.  Pandering to instinctive British obsequiousness, and unconvinced of its negotiating power or the cards it holds, the government seems to be falling over itself in attempts to ‘achieve the best deal’, regardless of its record in that department when David Cameron was lashed to the helm, and without any acknowledgement to the bigger world that waits to trade and interrelate.

Hot news!   You cannot ‘negotiate’ with zealots.  They don’t listen.  Whether Federalist or Islamist they are convinced of their cause in the face of all reason, and their pursuit of it will be relentless.   The only way for the European ideal to break down is the way it must, whether in months or years: by collapse from within.

Complications, EU rules and agreements founded upon them, are really a distraction from what will be UKs final recourse, just to walk away and close the door.   The vast amount of money, and work for the Civil Service, though, that will be expended in reaching that conclusion, is not for the EU.  It is to gratify powerful influences within UK.

Make no mistake, the greatest obstacle to a smooth and effective severance is rampant self-interest.   I can understand it, in a way.  In the long term, as everyone knows, the Carney Bank of England interest rate, which has lingered at fractions of a percent for some years now, must rise.  In most of the country such changes are manageable, but if you live in a two-bedroom flat in London which cost your lenders the north side of £600K a half percent rise is tantamount to ruin, especially if the property starts to devalue as well…

On a personal level, this is the year (so my harpies, in concert with the British Brainwashing Corporation tell me) I am sure to contract a significant disease – diabetes, cancer, Alzheimer’s, Ebola, terminal flu.   All will be well, if I could only bring myself to take the wisest course the moment I experience early symptoms and consult my medical practitioner.  Okay, although due to the medical staff’s extensive holiday commitments the waiting list for appointments with my local General Practitioners’ exceeds one month.  By which time, of course, I will have expired.

Meaning, I suppose, I need not be too concerned that a piece one-quarter the size of Wales is about to break away from the Antarctic ice pack, or that due to billions of gallons of extra melt water filling up the oceans, the world is getting too fat in the middle and wobbling on its axis a bit.   This is no surprise to me.  Ever since acquiring extra weight in middle age my pirouettes are definitely more erratic.  A lesson for us all.

It will not be a bad year, 2017.   Whether we like or loathe Donald and his rug, the system will blunt his excesses I am sure, and all though the treatment may be painful, it will be beneficial, by and large, in the end.  If one thing, and one thing alone, could make 2017 a very good year it would be to see peace break out in Syria.  Those poor people have been bombed and shot at for too many years, and for once I find myself applauding Russia for its logical approach.  I hope that, at least, succeeds.

Happy New Year, everyone.

No – NO!   Put that drink down.  You promised!  God is watching!

May 7th – The Circus Comes to Town

On Thursday we have a General Election. I mention this because I accept a lot of what follows may not directly interest my American friends; but stay, I beg you! Tarry awhile. You could find many parallels to your own electoral process.

To explain British politics would take at least thirty pages of long sentences strung together with endless un-comma’d clauses and extravagant jargonistic verbs which have no meaning to anyone and probably don’t enhance anyone’s understanding of the general process let alone serve to enlighten the reader as to the true nature of our historic democracy, so I won’t.

For those who are uninformed, here are the principal players – the stars, if you will.

The Conservatives

David Cameron (our existing Prime Minister and lover of the ‘Nuclear Deterrent’ – Cameron Osbornefour submarines*) and George Osborne, his Chancellor of the Exchequer (he looks after the money). Think of them as Penn and Teller, because this pair can make anything disappear (apart from the immigration problem, that is). George’s favorite trick, that of making money vanish from your pocket and reappear in his, is equaled in mystification by David’s hypnotic ability to make you believe not only that the money is still in your pocket, but that you have more of it than you did five years ago.

The Liberal

Nick Clegg (who only wants three submarines*), junior partner in coalition with Penn and Teller, usually seen prancing about the back of the stage in a yellow leotard, handing George rabbits to put in his hat.

The Socialist

Ed Milliband (what’s a submarine?), who wants to be Prime Minister, and Ed Balls Wallace_and_gromit(yes, that is the right name), who would like George’s job. Think of them as Wallace and Gromit. They are sworn to never divulge the whereabouts of the secret Money Tree, that enables them to go on handing out cash to everyone and somehow never quite run out. Like Wallace, though, Ed M. is a compulsive inventor with a penchant for dreaming up new policies almost every night. Unlike his colleagues in the Labour Party, he arrives at Westminster every morning through a system of chutes and levers operated by the faithful Balls. Due to an inconsistency in the system he is occasionally to be seen there still wearing his pyjamas.

The Viking

Viking BorisBoris Johnson. There are no portraits of Attila the Hun when he first got out of bed in the morning, but if there were the resemblance to Boris would be startling. Although slightly to the right of Churchill and outrageously privileged Boris has charisma enough to endear him to us common serfs. He treats politics as a bit of a sick joke, you see, and so do we common serfs. He is very much the man who would be King. Currently Mayor of London, Boris is widely tipped to take a parliamentary seat at this election, and David Cameron’s parliamentary seat soon after that.
Which means our beloved country will be run by an acknowledged buffoon: something I’d personally endorse for these reasons:
1. I believe all good Acts of Parliament should have a tag line.
2. No-one knows or even cares what Boris thinks about ‘Nuclear Deterrent’*.
3. Boris is the one man who really could re-negotiate our relationship with the European Union. After an hour of Boris even Angela Murkel would be reduced to compliance.
4. Liverpool hates him. That’s enough reason to vote for anyone .

The Scots

Nicola Sturgeon, witch-queen of North Ayrshire. She leads the Scottish Nationalist Party, which means she wants to rule Scotland and sail it away from England. She also hates the ‘Nuclear Deterrent’* (four submarines). The wholesale poaching of Scotland’s almost exclusively Labour-run seats will give her unique power over the next parliament, if everything goes according to her cunning plan. She will not take a seat atAlex Salmond Westminster herself, however. She will send a gnome magicked from her garden, known as Alex the Salmon because of his former pose sitting on a toadstool with a fishing rod.

The Xenophobes?

Farage CensoredNigel Farage, representing the United Kingdom Independence Party. Nigel’s politics comprise an entire manifesto of reasons for leaving the European Union. This reflects a view widely held in serfdom. His party may gain a number of seats, but his own electability is in question. He has made the basic mistake of believing it is possible to initiate any new and real change in Britain by launching a new party in the face of the relentless ‘impartiality’ of the BBC.

So, why am I troubling you with all this drivel? I suppose it must be because of the macabre fascination our Democratic System© holds for one such as I. The complications of holding a united kingdom of four constituent parts together seem mighty and disproportionate, and never more so than at General Election time.

Whatever the real issues are, we can rely upon our politicians’ failure to address them. Instead, on May 7th we will all be rolled to the polling booth in a golden coach of lavish promises drawn by prancing horses colored blue, red, yellow and green. We will faithfully put our crosses beside our respective choice knowing that when we wander back out into the Spring sunshine our coach will be a pumpkin once more and the horses will have gone back to their stable of exclusivity.

We will have performed as asked.

The establishment, the inner circle of our secretive Civil Service whose collective identity is never truly revealed, will continue to run the country as before. No promises will be kept, essentially nothing will change.

Unless, of course Nicola Sturgeon’s plan succeeds, in which case most of our legislation will be shaped by Scottish interests.

And in two years or so, four submarines will probably turn up on eBay.

* Nuclear Deterrent. Our status as a nuclear power is upheld because we have four incredibly ancient submarines docked at Faslane Naval Base in Scotland. These subs are stuffed with nuclear missiles, apparently, which they can fire from underneath the sea, although it is important to ensure the submarine is the right way up at the time.

We need new submarines, and there is some dispute as to whether we can afford them, whether we can afford another four, or whether we can make do with three. It has been a talking point for some time, this replacement of our nuclear deterrent, a case with striking similarities to a recent decision to uphold our status as a maritime power by building two new aircraft carriers. We can’t afford the planes to put on them, which seems a little bizarre to me – perhaps we could compromise on the submarines in like fashion? After all, no-one would ever know…