THERE ARE OCCASIONS in the news of our world when we have to be careful in whom we confide. There is, of course, the local policeman, Mr Stephenson, or his best friend Detective Yates, whom everyone knows will be rocks of trustworthiness and good, old fashioned sense. Then there is the newsagent, Mr Murdoch, and his flame-haired, much younger “companion”, Mrs Brooks and her invalid, unsupportive henchman Mr Coulson.
ALL OF THESE PEOPLE MAKE UP the rather curious assemblage of souls who inhabit the close circle of 10 Downing Street with our goody-goody two-shoes PM, a chap who enjoys “a challenge” and a “good game”; the knockout whist being played at the moment is leading to discards beyond anyone’s idea of the maximum. Cameron is having his friends “knocked out” of the game before the slime gets to him. One cannot help thinking that, if the summer does not provide the much-needed silence, he will be looking for someone high up to take a fall, and, given that the police are resigning of their own accord, moving fingers are slowing down and starting to point at the pleasant visage of Home Secretary Theresa May, who is already hated by almost everyone who comes into contact with her.
THUS IF CAMERON SURVIVES THIS it is because he is not as floppy-dopey as he looks and/or he has “proper” intelligent chaps who are loyal to him. The last week, and the next week in particular, have and will show that this current government is as corrupt as we have had since the glory days of the sixties. Those who may have thought that Cameron was any different to the useless, money- and land-hugging Tories of the past before Margaret Thatcher must have shit in their eyes. Which may not be a disadvantage to them as they survey the political landscape.
LIKE IN THE VOICEOVER OF SOME MELODRAMATIC TV SERIES. just when we think that all is fine and that we are getting on with our neighbours, our children are in bed, snug and safe, there is that restless feeling that makes us turn over once, then twice, or even thrice, on our soft, cool pillows, trying to settle down before we go to sleep. What, we may think, does tomorrow bring?
No comments:
Post a Comment