All week I have been trying to work out who this Davo is and why world leaders have congregated at his house. Perhaps he’s just received a new shipment of Cohibas or had a super hot tub installed. Then I read that Gordon ‘Scrooge McDuck’ Brown has gone over there. He doesn’t do pools with water in, preferring to duck dive into a large receptacle full of reassuring, inflation-busting paper money. Not known generally speaking for his congeniality, he’s also put the kybosh on the Cohiba theory announcing according to our BBC that,
‘The days of the smoke-filled room were over and that politicians had to involve the public in decision-making in order to win the arguments for free trade, globalisation and the fight against terrorism.’
So what is going on over at this Davo’s house then? I thought I was pretty much up on world affairs but this one has me stumped. Half the global suits fly to a ski resort at the coldest time of year to work out how best to shame the public into taking our annual holiday in Great Yarmouth instead of Gran Canaria, putting on an extra jumper and turning our heating down one degree to save the planet. Have they not heard of podcasts then? Conference calls? I thought big business and Government were joined at the hip, or at the very least, the cheque book.
Well, Scrooge old chap you can involve me in decision-making any time you like but you won’t be winning any arguments with me about free trade and globalisation. I actually don’t think it’s morally right to charge elderly people a couple of grand a week for the privilege of having flour shoved down their mouth in one of your privatised ‘care facilities’ or pay your benighted supermarket friends to bully and starve small farms. Nor am I prepared to part with my civil liberties on the off chance that someone with a homemade bomb might be standing next to me on one of my infrequent tube train journeys.
Also over at Davo’s pad, the World Economic Forum is meeting to see if we can finally find a way to get coffee around the world without creating famine. Tony ‘Blah Blah’ Blair is there helping matters along enormously according to his spokesperson who informed SABC,
‘There is now a realisation that a deal is there if people have the will to make a deal. And there is a realisation that people are prepared to move on all sides if all sides are prepared to move.’ (from sabcnews.com)
Well, that makes perfect sense so, as soon as a starting pistol can be found, I can begin thinking about reallocating the guilt I feel about Fair Trade coffee not being as beneficial to local economies as it’s made out to be. The
Meanwhile my own economic crisis tumbles further towards catastrophe. I must face the stark reality that my nice buyer was in fact a phantom. I may have imagined him. Other people have fantasy lovers, I have a fantasy flat buyer. That is how close I am to complete insanity. Please don’t tell anyone though because I am paranoid about being put into care in my own community. It’s bad enough being a free agent in Hackney but to have to rely on the benevolence of others would be unbearable.
After another conversation with dimwit No. 107 at the housing association which tested the boundaries of logic as they have never been tested before, I am left wondering if it’s worth trying to maintain a sense of right and wrong in the hope that it will one day return to common usage. Dimwit No. 107 decided it would be very productive to lecture me on my ethical position in relation to showing good will towards the nice man who indicated in writing that he would buy my flat. According to her moral code, the correct thing to have done in this instance would have been to dishonour our agreement immediately and go in search of more buyers. ‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket’, she advised me, which is apparently how people who work in housing associations show respect for each other’s word. She shows a remarkable enthusiasm for increasing my bounty suddenly, perhaps as a compensation for wasting so much of it on my behalf in the last ten years through mismanagement and neglect.
I don’t suppose Davo has this problem, all tucked up there in his Swiss chalet with his swish chums puffing on his Cohibas and devising devious ways to screw our pensions and mangle our ideals in several hundred different languages. Davo probably has so many properties, he can’t even remember them all…
Cartoon from www.cagle.msnbc.com