A democratic tide

When the Cons begin complaining that the BBC’s reporting is hyperbole
And yet the Public, in the absence of a proper Opposition,
Hoped and prayed and waited for the needed contradictions to come forth from out its frightened, tight-lipped mouth,
But would not,
Or, indeed,
Any bloody statistician, politician, journalist with clout
And reasonable questions – even useful and alternative suggestions –
Could not,
Not for love nor money, get the airtime and the platform with the nation’s
For almost the entirety of one disastrous Parliamentary Term,
You know it’s nearly over for that
Flat Earth,
Most witless party –
Even dare yourself to think
A democratic tide begins to turn.

For some pounds

There is so little room to move
Here on the common ground:
Can’t climb up quite high enough;
Can’t slip that much further down.
A life in limbo with no window,
Ground to powder for some pounds
By banks of think tanks flanking clowns.
But surely the economy
Should fit to our Society:
To you and me;
For you and me
And not this crazy other way around…

Where is the line?

Where is the line
Between the terrorist
And freedom fighter,
Dissident or traitor,
Takes the activist to enemy of State?
Perhaps The Man that writes the times
That cites the signs it did create
Then sets Authority in conflict
With the inconvenient dreams it’s wont to hate.


Are you swamped by endless mis-speak
From the fat and windy arse cheeks?
Are you drowning in the effluence
Of flat earth,
Not worth shit?
Have you had enough of it?
Are you sick of all the sound and fury,
Head fog
Tight wad
Cheap trick
Quick-fix, petty juries?
Are you feeling under siege
To what the populists assume we need?
And does it make your eyes and ears bleed
Every time
Some five and dime
Promotes another Plimsoll line?
And do you groan
Because the chorus is in monotone
And all you really want
Is for the foaming mob
To zip its gob
And bugger off
And leave the blessèd mess they’ve made
The heck alone?

blue chip narcissists

Don’t be stupid!

They take time
And will and wit
And wisdom
Built on knowledge
And informed consent.

Common sense?
Don’t hold your breath!
Have you seen your screen
Or read the nonsense in the Press?

Keep wishing
While you’re witnessing
The dark heart of Establishment

This isn’t just a crony prism:
This is blue chip narcissism
We’re undone by nigh on everyone
Who’d touch the hem of government.

Pick your populist!

Fair weather politics
Wants a quick fix
A shortcut
Slick trick
One it controls
But can’t predict
Well, how exciting!
Pick your populist!
Someone preening
Something neat and clever
Hell for leather
How inviting!
Fight the drudge
With grudge and glamour
In the mainstream sludge
Until it isn’t
Now each twisted ist and ism
Forms the prism
Of the schism bound
And plants its fiat flags
Upon a fragile centre ground.

Hush little people

Hush, little people, don’t say a word,
Papa’s gonna polish another turd.

And if that polished turd don’t shine,
Papa’s gonna bullshit a strawman line.

And if that strawman line don’t work,
Papa’s gonna flex with a dumb knee jerk.

And if that dumb knee jerk goes awry,
Papa’s gonna make new Law on the fly.

And if that Law on the fly’s unpicked,
Papa’s gonna obfuscate out of it.

And if that obfuscation’s mocked.
Papa’s gonna conjure a false flag shock.

And if that false flag shock ain’t bought
Papa’s gonna buff some new shit, of course!

And if that buffed new shit falls flat
You’ll still belong to Papa and his magic hat!

Ivory Tower

Resplendent in cruel hubris
Reckless is as reckless does.
With polished threats
And tarnished pledge
Messiahs mug
Escapists hedge
With gold plate fists
In grubby mitts
For love of ruthless rule.
The knotted lies
Of old school ties
To power cling
With levered strings
And rent-a-tool;
All singing, prancing fiat bling’s
Preserving pool
In service to relentless farce.
A class of shower
Whose ivory tower
Needs shoving
Up its prating arse.

Keys to the crash

Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way.” ~ Jean Anouilh

I’m no big fan of the Labour Party. I’d like to be but it’s falling so far short of its potential that its only use to me, at the moment, is in the urgent necessity of applying the brakes, even if only slightly, to the cruel incompetence of the Coalition. The disconnect between Ed’s often quite astute anti-neoliberal rhetoric and his actual policy proposals is infuriating and distressing. He’s failing so miserably to produce a whole narrative that I know exists and so bent on proposing Tory-lite policies like they’re going out of fashion – which, of course they should be – that there are days when I despair for us all.

But Labour did not “crash the car”. Not on its own. Both it and the Conservatives have been sharing the driving for more than three decades. In fact, just about every government in the ‘developed’ world was on the same road at the same time. There was an almighty pile up. That was to be expected, really. Visibility was very bad, the music was lung-poppingly loud, the road was wet, the tyres were worn and everyone was driving with all the recklessness of coked-up, hormone-charged teenagers, with complete disregard for both the Highway Code and all pedestrians. After the crash, no police or vehicle recovery companies came to properly investigate what had happened or to clear away the wreckage but lots of private ambulances showed up and, well, thank goodness for insurance because it included no claims protection as well as automatic vehicle replacement.

Unfortunately Labour seems content and obliged to be the foil that cops for the points on its licence. It’s such a pity because now they’re being told that not only would it be madness to give them the keys back but that they should never be allowed behind the wheel again and that anyway, their Tory co-drivers (with added Liberal Democrat) have decided to outsource for chauffeurs. That way, Tories say, they can be as merry-hell high or as mean-drunk as they like and carry on carrying on blaming anyone and everyone but themselves.

It would be great if Labour said sorry for their party’s mistakes and its complicity in global meltdown and admitted why the last decades have been to the enormous long-term detriment of 99. whatever % of the world but that, curiously, for a party with a supposed reputation for fiscal competence, the Tories, having constructed a narrative of outright scorn for Labour, have yet consciously and happily, adopted and built upon many of the stupid things Labour did on top of those things for which they, too, and the whole neoliberal world are responsible and are still busy doing to a far worse effect.

Labour may not be the sharpest tool in the box and I’m not trying to defend its members but anyone who believes that the Conservative Party (or, by default, the Lib Dems) has any better a clue about finance and the economic health of this country – or is it four countries or three and a bit, now – is deluded, frankly. None of them really knows what the heck they’re talking about. And neither does the Media.

It’s not as if there’s no evidence, either, as a simple online search of, say, “did Labour really crash the economy?” or “how do Tories feel about banking regulation?” or “who’s the most fiscally responsible: Labour or Conservatives?” or perhaps “why did mainstream not see the financial crisis coming?” would amply demonstrate.

Labour is its own worst enemy; it doesn’t have a clue how do itself a favour. The Conservatives, on the other hand…

Answers on a postcard, please

How d’you like your politics
And governmental policies
Of democratic choice?
Scribbled on old envelopes?
Or on a pack of cancer sticks?
Or should it be the richest
With the clout to make the loudest noise?
Perhaps you like it dribbled out
By “spokesmen who cannot be named”
And subsequently nibbled over
By a pushy Mainstream Press?
Or better yet the broadcast news –
They’re excellent at framing views!
Or, what about the really sly,
Like “stories that you may have missed..”?
And those whose votes appease a crony status quo
For blatant lack of courage or integrity or wit?
Or how about we all rely on latent use of hue and cry?
Or do you much prefer it when the Regime just insists?
Apparently Democracy is all about the voice of We
So where is it supposed to fit?
Your answers on a postcard, please.