Monday, January 29, 2007

The Weak in Politics

























I think I might actually be losing the taste for trashing the Government. Shock, horror, probe, call a priest. It isn’t that I am coming around to their way of thinking (and I use the term generously), but rather that they are beginning to look like vulnerable people and I am starting to feel a bit of a bully. Where is the sport in bashing the semi-conscious? Pity because I can’t really think of much to write about today. I toyed with the idea of discussing the global significance of Bratz dolls beating off Barbie in pre-pubescent popularity but all you’d have to do is draw the parallel between Madonna and Beyoncé and it’s game over. Not likely to get me an honorary doctorate from Cambridge and one paragraph does not a column make. Nice picture though.

Who really has the stomach for salivating over Tony ‘Blah Blah’ Blair’s imminent downfall? Even though we have the bumbliest detectives since the Keystone recruitment crisis of 1926, they have been able to trace back a memo in Blah Blah’s own fine hand directly linking him with the purchase of knighthoods. He might as well have put them on eBay. For all I know he did. Even I’m aware that the next most useful piece of office equipment to master after the Klix drinks machine is the cross-cutting shredder. Where do these people do their work experience and learn how to make frothy cappuccinos?

I’ve laughed until I nearly laid an egg at Gordon ‘Scrooge McDuck’ Brown’s cringing efforts at statesmanship which included getting Celebrity Big Brother contestants mixed up with heroes of democracy. I believe it was the ‘voting’ component that caused all the confusion. It would obviously be easier if democracy was confined to reality television shows and politicians were bought for a pound a piece on eBay by people who want to be called ‘sir’ without having to go through the bother of attending teacher training college for three years and risking their lives in a South London comprehensive. Has anyone else noticed that Scrooge seems to have a rather bad case of OCD? Whenever he reads from a speech he’s constantly lining up the corners of his papers. I’ve heard of creating order from chaos but that’s got to be a hiding to nothing.

John ‘Chopper’ Reid, the (Rest) Home Office Secretary has had a week where hell would be considered an upgrade. I shouldn’t think he’ll be able to get temp work as an office junior now, never mind another secretarial position. He began by instructing judges not to send anyone else to jail as prison places are currently overbooked, although agents are working around the clock to source alternative accommodation on cruise liners. After nipping around to Edward de Bono’s and borrowing six of his best thinking hats, Chopper came up with the idea that those receiving custodial sentences could queue for prison places. A system very like the one currently used by the NHS is proposed and this would have the added benefit of allowing the prisoner to opt for a hip replacement or cataract operation as an alternative punishment.

Chopper ended the week having to concede that police had misplaced over three hundred serious sex offenders who are obliged to drop into their local police station once a week to drink tea with their probation officer. Whilst the Government is able to track my every movement with a GPS system that can hone in on the exact location of my mobile telephone, Oyster card and probably my pedometer, dangerous criminals seem to slip through English fingers like test cricket balls. To borrow 99p DVDs from my local shop I had to provide two proofs of identification containing my address, one of which had to be a utility bill received within the last three months, yet serious offenders on licence need only provide police with a couple of words which sound like a type of place where an earthly organism might reside. Our most reliable Sunday newspaper The News of the World reports that a paedophile was allowed to give his current address as ‘woods’, and previous address as ‘a tent near Guildford Leisure Centre’. If a prisoner were to give his details as ‘P. Bear c/o Mrs Brown, 32 Windsor Gardens’, it may be considered too much information.

This week I also discovered I have been living next door to a nuclear waste dump for the past twenty-two years. On the bright side, I can probably stop worrying about my long term health care needs and start treating every day as a gift. I feel better already. Culture Secretary Tessa ‘The Scowl’ Jowell, who really should be at least looking concerned about the fact that the 2012 Olympics might turn out to be more about radio-activity than sporting activity, chose to turn her attention to threatening super thin models with a ban on appearing at London Fashion Week. It’s not as if they need money for food I suppose but I can’t help thinking it’s a bit mean to pick on girls who weigh less than a javelin.

You know what, I think my appetite has returned. Will someone please pass the salt…



Picture from www.telegraph.co.uk

4 comments:

Ms Melancholy said...

Mr PE has already made the point, but sometimes I feel like a stalker when I pop in to the comments box just to say 'that was a really funny post'. But it was very funny. And I am not stalking you, although you may want to tell me to go away with my endless compliments. I am usually quite miserable and hard to please, actually. Enough, already.

That's so pants said...

Ms M - Strange as it may seem, I don't ever tire of compliments.

THE PERIODIC ENGLISHMAN said...

Oh dear. Remind me, please, to never get on the wrong side of you, That's So Pants. I'm not sure I ever want to find myself on the receiving end of your slicing and dicing.

I find the Tony Blair/Labour Party thing very depressing, by the way. Although I didn't vote for them - never have - I was one of those poor fools who actually felt happy to see them come to power in 1997. It is embarrassing and hurtful to think that I could have been so idealistic as to suppose they would be any different from the last lot. It just makes me feel sad.

I know that they have done some worthwhile things, incidentally, and that's great - it's just that they all seem so spoiled and soiled and sleazily samey and very much out for themselves.

Where on earth are the good guys to be found?

Kind regards etc...

That's so pants said...

Fear not Mr PE - unless of course you have plans to become the next Home Secretary. No one could be more disappointed than I that Labour turned out as pants as they did. They destroyed hope and, for me, that warrants a jolly good spanking. Besides, they blame us for everything so why shouldn't we fight back.