Referendum Day!

Hey quibble quibble,
The vote is a wriggle,
The ciao slumps over the tune,
The whistle fog barks in Adlibport
And the wisps damn away in the gloom.

Lost: the plot

Once upon a time
In the British Isles
The People lost the plot
A lot
For a Blighty while:

They dove into their navels
They high-fived their polished pride
Took advantage
Took for granted
Labels old enough to die.

They laid tables with ballistics
Played interpreting statistics
Graded experts unrealistic
Dignified the narcissistic
Swaying lore to cast the Law aside;
No-platformed or projected
Poaching power to decide
Because agenda mattered more
So bore false witness in an effort
To control the spring of tides.

Some laid traps
And some bade hacks
To frame the facts
While others cried
Conspiracy and wolf
Because they both applied
As lies drew pacts
In packs to hide
Until the pros were cons
And cons were pros
And any pumped-up so-and-so
Was weaponised in service
To misguide.

The rowdy rabbles scrabbled
Best to justify hyperbole
With prefix like
‘’The truth is..’
But it set nobody free because
They waged their wars on history’s shores
And clutched at straws
To fill their stores with futures really
Only naked emperors can see.

Clear perspective took a nose-dive
In the voice of tribalese
Based on promotion of emotion
And selective memory.
And soon the Kingdom, so united
In its muddled fear and snide
Did fail to notice it was all at sea
As literally met irony
In harmony, allied
To drag the People down and drown them
In the murky deep vainglory of the ride.

Immeasurably fixed

He was panicked and embarrassed:
his us and them policies
had caught up with his privileged stock
and he found the process painful;
unfathomable.
His shares bled,
drip by drop;
immeasurably fixed
to quake the patron’s Rock,
transparent of his tricks.
And, still,
there, from the debris of the aftershocks,
came arrogant shticks with interlocking bricks,
to repair his crumbling, patriarchal edifice.

Papasaurus

Dinosaurs did not fall off
When Earth stopped being flat
As Papa built a modern model
Taking care of that

With pockets full of fogeys and
A briefcase packed with bogeymen
He scaffolded an abstract shelf
From which to make pretend

He ironed out the irksome bits
Where people creased his politics
And starched the floppy profiteers
‘Til stiff for TINA’s private bits

He dressed himself progressive
And he groomed himself designed
To make his platitudes and actions
Seem ahead of evidence and time

He said we’re doing all we can
To mitigate the state that drifts
Into potential evolution
With some minds that do not shift

His groupthink roamed the thinning crust
Insisting this and that on trust
As creatures due extinction do
Deny their own entropic thrust

What works is not what works, he said
What doesn’t work is under threat
What works is not what works, he said
My order lives though it be dead

The “Compassionate” Con

Why do the Tories have to insist, so profusely, that they are “compassionate”? They’ve recently started slipping it in and tacking it on again, at every opportunity. It’s as though they suddenly think we might need reminding. Or they are doing that positive affirmation thing in order to convince themselves. As though conservatism and compassion were not natural bedfellows…

OED: “Compassionate: Sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or        misfortunes of others.Middle English: via Old French from ecclesiastical Latin compassio(n-), from compati ‘suffer with’.

Passion from Old English:
The word passion comes via Old French from Latin pati ‘to suffer’. The Passion refers to the suffering of Jesus Christ. The sexual sense dates from the late 16th century. Passionate in late Middle English included the senses ‘easily moved to passion’ and ‘enraged’. Passive (Late Middle English) comes from the same root, from the sense of ‘being acted upon’, and compassion (Middle English) is literally ‘suffering with’ someone, while compatible (Late Middle English) comes from the Latin for ‘fit to suffer with’.”

Fancy a political ‘One Nation‘ party actually having to qualify ‘Conservative’ with ‘Compassionate’ just to reassure and soften its image! How ridiculous is that! And how sad. They’ll be telling us it’s a ‘British value‘ next.

And how insultingly patronising is the term “Compassionate Conservatism”? What is it saying? “Oh, we feel really sorry for you”? – “There, there, Daddy will take of you”? – “We feel your pain and anger and we understand”? – “We suffer with you”? – “We’re all in it together”?

By the way: “The root of suffer, is Latin sufferre, from sub- ‘from below, under’ and ferre ‘to bear’. As well as ‘to undergo or endure’, it can mean ‘to tolerate’, and this is the sense you are using when you say that someone does not suffer fools gladly. The expression is biblical, from the second Epistle to the Corinthians: ‘For ye suffer fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves are wise.’” – OED

“We suffer you” – that’s the one, isn’t it? They believe We, the People, are the fools that they, being better than us, can afford to – are fit to – accommodate. We are tolerated. Just about.

Of course, there are individual Conservatives who demonstrate sincere compassion; empathy, even but, as a collective; as a political party, they certainly do not. The Cons aren’t compassionate towards us beyond the expedient lip service of self-preservation. And, as for suffering with us: well, that’s almost funny.