... all the pies.
Labour drones, not my moniker. But I see it (probably incorrectly) as meaning people who are Labourites (whatever that is) and drone (as in spout meaningless cobblers).
It's difficult not to drone, on Twitter, because 140 characters isn't even enough for a good character assassination. And most people are more interested in how many people read what they write than in reading anything anyone else writes. Same goes with bloggers, I suppose, although I don't mind as long as both of my regular readers turn up now and again.
Eton. A school. Not my bucket of ferrets, actually, although I did once go to one of those schools (not Eton) until I was slung out for being a bit of a naughty boy. I have to say it was a horrible place, although most of the buggery and fagging had stopped by the time I went there. I believe that they're better now, although in some of them the uniforms resemble those of a manservant rather than a captain of industry.
I learnt Latin at mine. I learned that Latin is a dead language, as dead as dead can be. First it killed the Romans, but now it's killing me. And I learned what a gerund was. And dative, ablative, nominative and accusative. All cock, but handy when you're trying to learn your own language so when you write something you don't come across as an uneducated twonk. I also learned that, when Mr Latin walked across the room chanting ambulo, took out an unfortunate boy and told him to walk, chanting ambulas, and so on through ambulat, ambulamus, ambulatis and ambulant, that laying on the desk saying "ambulance - I ride" gets you six of the esteemed and whippy cane, as well as the due respect of the other boys.
I didn't go to my school because my Mum and Dad were rolling in it. I went because I passed the eleven plus and the other school was a comp.I was hated for that, by the other boys, especially the one on whom I got my own back - the reason I was expelled.
What I can reveal, in case anyone is still labouring (ho ho) under the misapprehension that these schools are rubbish, is that the opposite is true. They now have better facilities, better teachers (largely) more activities, that kind of thing, than most state schools. I emphasise "most". Most. Most people who go to them do so because one way or another, Mum ad Dad have ferreted away a bit of cash and they want little Johnny, or little Ellie, to get on in life. And there's nothing wrong with that. And there's nothing wrong with getting scholarships, like little Ellie may have done, or assisted places, or bursaries. Nothing wrong at all.
Now my chap of the day Twittered "Eton". Like it's a bad thing. Yes, Etonians will have a better education than the blokes from the comp down the road, all in all. They will also have been sheltered from reality.
Many Old Etonians will get on in life through contacts with other Old Etonians. Many through opportunity. Many through education, determination.
Same with little Johnny from the comp.
Half of the Labour Party had a good education, at schools such as Fettes. Some are educated beyond their level of intelligence, which is scary and dangerous. Some are just thick and should still be delivering the post.
I personally think that I'd rather have someone running the country who's had a good education.
I'd definitely like someone who can talk without rolling his tongue round his mouth like he's got a bit of wine gum stuck in his teeth.
Apart from that, I'd like some freedom of choice, some liberty, some control of how my money is spent and lastly, I'd like someone from England, you know, the country that makes up more than the rest of the other bits put together.
PS, I'd also like campaigners to be able to make coherent arguments, rather than smacking the constituents in the face, and then being proud of that.