All the way to the Bank?
Brown, Balls & Darling, that is, the three not-so-wise men who fiddled and fumbled as the UK economy tanked. They’re nothing more than terrorists, who should be denied the oxygen of publicity, let alone be encouraged to write books about it, as though it was some kind of classroom melodrama. That we permit, nay even encourage such a carry-on; appears to suggest there is no one in this dis-United Kingdom, capable of taking events like this, seriously.
So here in the naked light of day all is revealed, at the very heart of what should be the nerve centre of a thrusting vibrant nation, playing on the world stage, with all the panache that built the greatest empire the world has ever known. But what is revealed when we get right down to it, is little more than a juvenile game of yah-boo sucks, more suited to an infant school’s playground.
Though what it really reveals, is the bankruptcy of the British electorate’s political nous when the two thirds and often even less than half of all eligible voters, bother to turn out for an election. In my own town a Labour councillor was elected on a turnout of fourteen percent, which no doubt qualifies for the nub of a situation where a town or city returns the people responsible for the running of the government both local and national, on strictly doctrinaire principles based on, ‘what’s in it for me’.
It saddens, even sickens me personally, to think that in the end, all things being equal, the electorate in a particular village, town or city, finish up with exactly what they deserve. An administration incapable of doing what is in the best interests of the public at large, only what is good for themselves.
Mistakenly, I now believe that for several years, I reckoned this was due to the fact that we were failing to pay the going rate, which the best available talent required to make a career in politics at a local level. So I felt justified in this line of reasoning, as the rewards for a local councillor were enhanced to a point which seemed to indicate, this idea had been recognised and was being addressed.
Sadly however, it appears to have morphed into a kind of pin money thing, which in tandem with a day job or pensionable age, can sustain a sought after life style, on the nod and a wink basis. Something that is readily seen as Freedom of Information revelations, confirm the attendance records and participation levels for all to see.
Often it appears to the point where a game of Musical Chairs accompanies a forthcoming local election. If some elected member fears their particular Gravy Train is about to hit the Buffers. Will we ever evolve a system where the best of British rules O.K? Or are we condemned forever, to political Masters of the Universe, who are there because they have sworn allegiance to a useless political agenda or have spotted a direct route, to Easy Street.
Elected members it might be said, who are merely there to rubber stamp the machinations of the particular brand of civil servant chosen quite often for doctrinaire political expediency. Who populate the various departments of government both local and national, with personal hidden agendas?
In the end the truth will out, it always does. Though sometimes it gets overlooked, when it’s right under the end of yer nose?
Watch this space I’ll be back!
Tom.
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