A Tale of Two Nations

We are living inside an opera. There are two different casts with entirely different stories but the finale is always a tragedy. No amount of slap, lighting or costumery can conceal the poisonous screenplay which is destroying us and which, without a radical rewrite, will close the theatre forever.
This is a nation which is more divided than at any time in living memory. At some point in the last 30 years the ‘haves’ mutated and are now gorging on the rotting remains of the ‘have nots’. It isnt enough to defeat the masses. You have to stamp on them until they have no use other than to serve you. The political establishment has moulded into one putrid lump which exists to exploit the poor, deep mine its labour and sell its bones for dog food. The Tories have discarded their masks to reveal the greedy, blood spittled incisors of rampant capitalism. Labour quietly surrendered via Neil Kinnock. Their discarded uniforms are filled out now by careerist politicians walking behind their Conservative puppeteers breathing in the fetid stench of their flatulence. The LibDems, like a weary whore, will suck the fleshy member of whichever client pays upfront. All of this has left poverty, misery, insecurity and cruel exploitation. By contrast, a tiny few are bloated with stolen wealth and privilege.
Yesterday nearly 2,000 babies were born. Most of them, to varying degrees, will be loved and healthy. With one exception they will live lives of peaks and troughs, triumphs and defeats, poverty spells and salad days. That one exception is the offspring of the descendents of minor Hanoverian nobility. Plucked from obscurity, through not being Catholic, they have fed off the backs of Britsh workers for 300 years. They receive vast amounts of our taxes, swathes of high value land and the ears of every government and newspaper editor. They are born with a licence to indulge and to have their way. They exist to maintain the lie that, by the gift of God, some are born to rule and most are born to serve their pleasure. In return for wealth, power and the right to make difficult people disappear, they will wave at your peasants, smile from the balcony and exhort your sons to take up arms for the profit of others.
Today I saw a middle aged woman sat outside an ironically titled Job Centre in a District of Liverpool. She was sobbing and, surrounded by police and a paramedic, she regularly stopped and let out a high pitched scream. She was unemployed, had mouths to feed and the cupboard was bare. Some spiteful little worm had sanctioned her for a perceived infraction of the humiliation game. Your average Daily Mail type in the Shires would have barely contained an urge to masturbate feverishly. A crowd had gathered and looked on fearful and frustrated. Dead eyed, beaten and demonised, these people knew about the royal birth and they didn’t give a fuck ! Their minds were on debts, meals not yet paid for and court summons. The contrast with the hysterical, puerile dolts outside the palace gates was stark.
None of this great con can be perpetrated without a willing media. Yesterday the BBC reached rock bottom. Wall to wall coverage, the erasure of all dissent and blatant lies. It was transparently clear that the public attitude is being fabricated on behalf of the establishment. Carefully focussed cameras would slip for a moment to reveal vast empty space behind the carefully choreographed but shallow crowds.
They push and push and, encouraged by arrogance, push harder. You can only go so far. If this vicious transference of wealth from the people to the capitalst monoliths continues, it will explode. The crowds wont be flag waving tourists. They will be carrying flame and rope. Even the most beaten dog will bite back eventually.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s