I have been reading history books. Some of them are deadly dull but there are some exciting bits.
I like the stories, for that's what they often are, about when the underdogs decided they'd had enough.
Oddly, when this has happened in the past, people have been pecked at, slowly but surely. The powers-that-be, or should it be the powers-that-were, had niggled away for a long time until there was nothing left but for the poor old blighters to cry "ENOUGH".
And in most cases, the oligarchy, the inbred cousin-shagging double-dealing troughsnouters thought they were all safe and cosy in their beds.
Nero. He fiddled. It's not clear whether he was playing the violin or himself. Or perhaps someone else? But Rome burned.
Marie Antoinette. Laissez-les manger brioche, she cried. Let them eat a rich, eggy bread. Or cake. Didn't matter much, the peasants, revolting as they were, lopped off her head.
Kerensky. What do you mean, who? You thought it was Tsar Nick, didn't you? Nope. Kerensky, leader of the Provo Government of Russia. The plebs, again, got the hump and, shouting "Aux armes, citoyens!" (I don't know any Russian), stormed the Winter Palace.
And every time the poor victims thought they could sleep soundly in their beds. Because they had the power, the money, the army. But at the end of the day, it just doesn't cut it.
Mr Bliar said of the pending shoe-chucking party at Waterstones that "The police are wonderful - they'll do anything we ask them".
In American history, when the Lone Ranger was all of sudden surrounded by Indians, he turned to his faithful friend Tonto, and pleaded "What are we going to do now?"
Tonto replied "What do you mean 'we', white man?"
I think some of us have had enough. And I think there are very many more of us than our esteemed oligarchy think.
Lock your doors, won't you?