Gordon! Gordon! Gordon! Out! Out! Out!
There was a biggish demo in London today, against public spending cuts and redundancies in the public sector. On my wall, I have an 18th Century print of Canute attempting to hold back the sea, and this demo reminded me of that. You can demonstrate all you like, but it won’t make a ha’porth of difference; cuts and redundancies there will be, whoever wins, whatever happens.
The New Party showed their indifference to the power of the demonstration when a million people marched through the streets of London opposing the Iraq War, and they still went ahead anyway. This got me to thinking about why I hate them so much, while my lifelong visceral hatred of the Real Tories has settled down into mere nausea… it could be something to do with age of course.
But what I think it is, is this. People say that the Real Tories look after their own. And so they do. And so they will. We know the Tories, and what they are like. My hatred of the New Party comes about because they haven’t looked after their own. They took for granted their ‘core vote’ in South Wales, the rust belt of Scotland and the industrial North of England, and left them to rot on benefits. They hired Frank Field to ‘think the unthinkable’, and he did, and they sacked him. And then they got on with looking after the Tories’ own; they slavishly accepted the Thatcherite economic model, felt relaxed about people becoming seriously rich, and fuck the rest. Don’t forget who was Chancellor the whole time that they let the City run the economy as it liked, for immediate short-term gain. That’s right; the same man who signed the cheques for all those lovely illegal wars, which a million people demonstrated against in vain.