A letter a day to number 10. No 1,460
Friday 10 June 2016.
Dear Mr Cameron,
I am amazed at all the sound and fury that’s kicked off over the EU referendum, admittedly a lot of it is piss and wind, but regardless of that, where’s it all been hiding in six long tooth grinding years of Tory misrule?
Suddenly there are political pundits everywhere, it’s wearing me out. It’s a kind of keyboard Armageddon, a prelude to the forthcoming actual Armageddon when we’re either in or out of the EU. If we leave we are, seemingly, going to lose the skills brought by foreign workers who have been a mainstay of our NHS since its inception, which was 25 years before we joined the European Community. If we stay we’ll be eating straight bananas, forever. Shurely shomething is wrong.
Little chubby cheeked Mikey wants us to break out the bunting and dodgy Dave (cooee) wants to save us from WWIII and let’s not forget (risqué sexist warning for anyone who feels they are missing that little extra something to lose their mind over) priti priti who wants to ensure our penal labour servitude forever.
In or out, it seems that Britain has become a toothless hag which must either be propped up by an EU zimmer frame or gird up its timorous loins and learn to fend for itself for the first time ever, in history, ever, once again. The big money is so terrified of the senile old ding bat, it’s running for the hills. ‘Don’t worry,’ I want to tell these scaredy fat cats, ‘the city of London will still be a fantastically corrupt global tax haven in which to stash your unearned cash. We’ve still got dodgy Dave (cooee2) and gorgeous George at the helm, they will always wuv you.’ (Cue – Whitney)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, as they say, the race to the bottom continues for the good folks of Britain, the great unwashed, the ordinary skivers, scroungers, strivers, low paid, no paid, Workfare plagued, Motability denied, pick up your wheelchair and work, halt and lame, pensions robbed, welfare denied, useless eating public. And that’s not to mention the destruction and privatisation of our NHS and George’s wholesale asset stripping of all the good things we’ve built and paid for and maintained so well, that are worth a bob or two, enough to flog off to his city mates on the cheap. Sorry, I’ve been and gone and done mentioned them, haven’t I?
Where are all the Armagedd-heads when you need them? Where is all the spit and rage when you really need it? Can we have an independent inquiry into whether Britain is the most bonkers nation in the world? Is it down to global warming because you know what they say about the midday sun, Englishmen and mad dogs. Anyway, I’m off for a nice cup of tea and to give myself a heave ho in the sock department, ups my daisy and have a bit of there there, dear. Toodle pip for now.