Tag: Social Commentary
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Don’t start pissing in my pocket and try to tell me it’s raining. And believe me, you don’t have to be called Rover to hear a dog whistle. The impromptu rash of flying of the Union flag across the country is not some benign outpouring of spontaneous national pride. It’s a malignant signal working at…
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Being a man who knows more than a little of guns, policing, and common sense, had I been reporting the arrest of Graham Linehan, I would have been accused of missing the point. But that is the point. The fact that he was arrested by a number of armed officers would have passed me by,…
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There is a delicious irony in that, as the shells rained down on the battlefield, you could find both sides of the conflict cowering in foxholes, praying for salvation to the same deity. Each side absolutely convinced that God was on their side. So much so that the Germans even had “Gott mit uns” inscribed…
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Uneasy Déjà VuI have an unpleasant feeling of déjà vu washing over me, and rather like seasickness, a bad curry or a good laxative, it’s making me feel rather queasy. It’s the same kind of feeling as having an endowment mortgage coming to term, around the time as all around you, the financial world burns.…
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Marching to a Fantasy Tune Left, right, left, right, left, right, left. No, that’s not the commentary track to a game of political ping-pong between Labour and the Tories, but the tune to which Rishi Sunak would have the nation’s youth marching. The only problem is that, while it sounds simply spiffing, it’s utterly out…
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Perhaps it’s time,That we all threwour toysfrom this globalPram. Humanity shoutingIn righteous indignation,Just where the hellIs my jam? Jam tomorrow,Jam yesterday,But never jam today. The time has come,I have to say,We passed the pot. From those who haveto those who have not,Before we eat the fucking lot. They string you along,And tell you lies,Perhaps evenSympathise.…
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A Fish-and-Chip Shop Revolution Now, I only nipped in for cod and chips, but now my ears are getting a battering. And I don’t know about you, but whenever I consider hotbeds of sedition and anarchy, I picture Pancho Villa and dusty encampments in Mexican deserts; Che Guevara’s sweaty jungle camp in Bolivia, or Rick’s…
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A Borough in the Balance Now, to answer that age-old riddle over the glass being half-empty or half-full, I’d pose a different question: does it depend on what’s in the glass? But what if, instead of a glass, the vessel in question was a London borough? This puzzle preoccupies my mind as I stand killing…