Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

But occasionally, a glimmer of truth.
If you find one, please let me know.

Thursday, 27 May 2010


@BevaniteEllie, the twitter for Labour, posted this.

I commented as below, and I would expect it to be published. Bets for and against? It is awaiting moderation.

“… a party who have desperately, but unsuccessfully, tried to convince the public that they’ve changed …”

I’m not sure what you’re saying here. Are you saying that the public need to think they’ve changed the party? That the party is trying to convince us that they’ve changed?

I’m not going to lower myself to the “get a life/sense of humour” comment, not after you invited it so willingly. But by biting on it before you even received any comments, surely you must realise how you’ve come across? It is a great shame, your school was a good one under Labour (as was mine under the Conservatives) and you’ve received a good education. But your venom has come out in the post which looks as though you’ve bashed it out in a hurry to vent your anger.

I’m not a Waugh fan. I’m an IDS fan, and I think he was out of order even if he HAD forgotten Yvette’s name (which he probably had). It’s difficult because I’d think of her as Balls, as I’d think of Sally as Bercow. And I’m probably as old as IDS too.

Ellie, I know I take the mickey on Twitter (even though you blocked me, for which I feel hurt, in a way), but I really do like your writing. Please take a bit of time and read it back to yourself – there’s no point writing to your “mates” – the ones you’re trying to convince are your adversaries.

I think if you get off the “Evil Tory” bandwagon you’ll realise that there are many points of view. I believe mine is right – you believe yours is right. I am willing to be swayed by your writing, and hope that you’d be willing to at least read (and perhaps comment on) mine, sometime. I try my best.

Please keep it up! And please don’t delete my comment, it probably took me longer to write than it did for you to write your blog :) < unnecessary smiley

Wednesday, 26 May 2010


We have a new cleaner at work. She started about a week ago, and her job is to clean the office areas of the factory. Being a factory, it is a shithole. Cleaning this place is soul-destroying.

I have just crossed paths with said lady (whose name I know not, yet), and she is on her knees with a bucket of water and a toothbrush, cleaning the bits under the open staircase, like it's her own house.

I asked her whether she'd been asked to do that. She replied "No, but it's filthy, and if a job's worth doing, it's worth doing properly. People look at me funny but I don't care."

She brought an old toothbrush in from home to do this. I don't know what she gets paid, but I bet it's the minimum wage, whatever that is. Or less, knowing this bunch of cunts.

Anyway, lady, whatever your name is, you've made my fucking day.

I'm going to buy the biggest box of chocolates I can find and leave it in your locker.


Coming-up-eleven-year-old daughter is starting teenagedness, I think.

Only-just-ten-year-old is getting a bit distraught as big sister is growing up and away, and alienating little one.

So Big Daddy intervenes.

"Oi, Eleven! You're supposed to be looking after little sis, she relies on you."

I expect a response along the lines of "Sorry."

I get a response along the lines of "I am looking after her. I'm keeping her under control."

I am saddened. Both girls were born into the Nanny State. Both girls know nothing else.

My job is now to re-educate them. And that, let me tell you, is one fuck-off big job. Wish me luck?

Tuesday, 25 May 2010


Big Society.

Small Government.

Red tape gone, stupid regulations ripped up.

Er, no, actually.

More of the same interference.

Just in case I ever did think of employing people, which I have done in the past but would not do under Liebore with their paternity leave and shite, I now can't.

Let me explain what a company does, for the benefit of those who are too fucking thick to understand, such as the BCC, the TUC and the government.

A company makes something to sell. It might be a hard thing, like a car, or a box, or it might be a soft thing, like a program, or it might be a service, like some call centre bollocks or financial package.

A company "employs" people to help them do this. Employing them entails giving them some money in return for them doing some work.

The company already has to give these people certain things, like some time off now and again, and statutory sick pay, and maternity leave (for women) and now fucking paternity leave (for the sake of equality).

Now, when we are facing the deepest finanicial crisis in the whole of ever, and we need more people employing people, some magical pillock has deemed that it would be fair and just for everybody to only work when they feel like it.

Carry on. Labour are back.


The Queen's wotsit is on. The state opens parliament.

All this tosh symbolises freedom, democracy  ... er, hold on. No, it doesn't.

It actually symbolises that we live in the past, in a system which, although it's the best we've got, is far from sensible. It symbolises that a herd of beefeaters, costing God knows how much, who couldn't defend the Queen or the Tower from a six-year-old with a peashooter, are pomping around the place at the taxpayer's expense. It symbolises that the Queen, who should have given up years ago, is really only any good for decorating stamps. It symbolises that a pile of hasbeens (sorry, Lady T) are STILL troughing from the family pot.

And it means that there is more of the same.

"My noble Lord".

"The honourable member".

"I shall name him".

Look, get rid. The best thing you can do is to get rid of this ancient and self-perpetuating cobblers.

And if there's one thing I'd REALLY like to see in parliament, it's that when an honourable member believes that another honourable member is guilty of terminological inexactitudes, he just calls him a fucking liar.

Because, I'm afraid, that's what he is.

Go on. Argue.


I refer my learned friend and both of my readers to yesterday's post regarding Mr Dr Andrew Wakefield.

And now I will explain why I still back him. There is a comment on that post from a "Barracuda", someone I know (but he will deny it), someone who also knows Andrew's family.

Everything I've read, including the much-respected Ben Goldacre, refers to "evidence" gleaned from the MSM (Mainstream Media). Such as the Daily Mail, Daily Express, News of the World. But also from The Times, a paper which is probably less partial than some of the others. The investigative journalist Brian Deer has filled his boots on this one - but don't take my word for it, read all about it.

The MSM. The papers, the telly. Must be right.

Many years ago, in a different life, I was in the paper. I'm actually in it quite a lot, usually in the little column describing what happened in court yesterday. But this one was a bit more special. I'll try to summarise what the paper said:


Pilot Philip Foster's skill and raining saved his pregnant wife from certain death yesterday when his aircraft's engine failed whilst returning to his home airfield. He averted disaster by landing in a field, avoiding surrounding villages ...

What a hero, eh?

This is the reality.

Philip Foster (the name they used, and nothing like mine) was actually buggering off somewhere else because the weather was nice, rather than returning home, and was skiving off work. The wife at the time was indeed a bit pregnant as I remember, and was reading a book, oblivious to the engine failure which the hero, Marvo, was addressing with what can only be described as the full three degrees of incompetence.

Having looked around for a suitable landing site and found something vaguely greener than most other possibilities, Marvo proceeds to fail to turn off the fuel. He then descends, because this what aircraft do when they have a buggered engine, normally. He fails to apply the flap, then careers into a field of winter barley, about two feet or so hight than the wings, at a rather unusual angle and exectues what can only be described as a "crash" which, had it not been for the height of the crop, would have taken out a small village, church and sub-post-office.

Marvo then finds the nearest pub and proceeds to drink it dry.

Now, compare that to the MSM article above? Any similarity at all?

No, didn't think so.

So, please. There are two sides. Don't bury Andrew yet.

Monday, 24 May 2010


Just a short note to say that, although all the Libbys, Cons, Dems, Luvvies, Men, Women and Children have decided that Mr Andrew Wakefield, formerly known as Dr Andrew Wakefield, perp of the MMR/autism link scare, is the Witch-du-Jour, Marvo maintains that he said the right thing.

My doctor doesn't spend too much time telling me that smoking can cause cancer, emphysema, halitosis or certain death. This is because my doctor knows me better than that. I know I can get cancer from sitting in the sun, emphysema from the coal fire (if the CO poisoning doesn't get me first), halitosis from eating Chicken Jalfrezi and certain death from generally behaving like a twat, playing with live electrical stuff, riding an 1100cc motorbike, or living.

But I like to have the facts.

The esteemed government, you know, those people who lived your life for you for the last 13 years, found a vaccine for Measles, Mumps and Rubella which they can give you all in one bash, so any measles will be gone forever.

Like Tuberculosis. There isn't any TB any more. Er, that's bollocks. There is. Blame the badgers.

And our esteemed government are always so careful with drugs and stuff. Ask three of my mates whose mothers took thalidomide to make sure they didn't get icky when they were pregnant all those years ago.

And the government is always happy to listen to advice from experts, such as Dr David Kelly. Walking in the woods can also be hazardous to your health, folks!

Here's my twopenn'orth.

Dr Andrew Wakefield announced, from some data that he put together, that there was a possibility that the MMR jab could be linked to increased risk of autism.

Thanks, Doc. I'll make my own judgment from here on in.

I bought the alternative, non-combined vaccine, from Switzerland. I trust the Swiss government more than the Fabians. I trust Lucifer more than I trust the Fabians.

I paid a Doc to administer it to my two youngest kids.

They are not autistic. Perhaps they never would have been. Who knows? I don't. You don't. Andrew Wakefield doesn't.

My choice. I make lots of choices. More than most people.

Andrew, I hope your life gets better and goes well from here on in. You had the decency to give me the information, and I made a conscious decision to act in the way I saw best fit for my children.

It's called freedom, that is. Libertarians are supposed to be all for it.


Albert (with whom both my readers will be familiar) has been told by his boss that there are four million unemployed people out there who are desperate for his (Albert's) job.

He thinks that might be untrue. Albert is usually right on these matters.

However, Albert has a plan which, although very simple, seems to me to be sound. It is this:

People who are claiming benefit could be given one of those sticks with a picker on the end, where you squeeze the handle and it closes the picker. Thus you can use it to pick up, for instance, a McDonald bag, Coke cup, etc. He claims that if people are claiming their benefit, they should have the opportunity to be given said picker and black bin bag, and receive their payment on production of a full bag of litter. This, he says, would work on a piecework basis whereby one bag would equate to, say, half a day's money.

The downside of this, Alberts claims, is that there really would be people queueing for his job.

I think Albert talks sense.


Hello, conscience! Hello!

Someone told me something last night. I hate people telling me things. This person, let us for the sake of argument call this person a "she", was skirting round the issue of "the cuts". She works for what could possibly be described as a government thingy, loosely.

She started off explaining that she hadn't had a pay rise for two years, and that she wouldn't get one this year either. Wrong target, luv. I explained that I hadn't had a pay rise in ten years. It went like this.

Moi "I don't see why I should get a pay rise. I don't do any more work".
Her: "But things cost more, you know?"
Moi "Yep. But I don't produce any more than I did, I don't work any longer or harder."
Her "Then in real terms your wages have come down."
Moi "I have a choice. I could get another job. So could you."

I always win these arguments. The firm I worked for went bust, was taken over, was taken over again. It, like shit, happens. I don't give a toss, I am pretty unmotivated by money. If I want something I wait for it. If I can't wait, I do some extra work for someone. Anything, really.

Anyway, the daft bint then decides that because I am not a greedy bastard, she will confide in me.

Her "We got a donation from X (a big company)"
Moi "That's handy, how much?"
Her "£35,000"
Moi "Fuck me! What are you going to do with it?"
Her "Our department needs it to get on with an overseas development project."
Moi "Zzz"
Her "Anyway, they want it back. The chap from X says to raise a cheque."
Moi "Odd."
Her "He wants it paying into his own bank account."

Arrrgghhhhhh, I go. Now I know something which I need to tell someone about. I don't have anyone to tell. So I shall tell the internet.

If my conscience is out there, please can it give me a clue what to do?

Oh, and by the way, would it make any difference if X was actually a bank?


Friday, 21 May 2010


Just a quick one.

Targets. They came over from the United States of America pretty much in the eighties, with all the bollocks about "Quality is Free", which is like businesses reading Self-Help books or going for a business opportunity in fake perfumes.

They are a means whereby a firm can get so huge that the guvnor not only doesn't know the names of 95% of his staff, but also doesn't know within 50% how many staff he has, and can still see, at a glance, on a pretty coloured pie chart whether his staff are "achieving".

They don't work. There are two reasons why not.

Firstly, the staff at the bottom are not as daft as he'd like to think they are. They are really good at making pie charts, and they have mates in the design industry and suchlike who can craftily use colours and patterns to make them look much better than they are. Then they go up a level, and are made to look even better. And so on. When the guvnor sees them, they are the numerical equivalent of "send three and fourpence, we're going to a dance", when the poor troops only wanted a bit of back up for the big push.

Secondly, they are not set at 100%. 100% is a target. The target. The only target. If you don't achieve 100% you are not doing it right.

Take the NHS. The target is everybody getting better, and going back to work/play. If you get 100 people in with a dodgy leg, and your target is 95%, and five of them snuff it in a filthy MRSA-infested operating theatre, you achieve your target and every goes "Yay!" and gets a bonus.

For fuck's sake. Get rid.

Thursday, 20 May 2010


Our glorious EU, some years ago, "evolved" a plan to ensure that all electronic equipment would be recycled. This was called WEEE. As in little pigs.

The main reason for this cunning plan was because previously, electronic equipment, soldered together, was being landfilled. The lead in the solder leached out and poisoned the landfill.

So, simultaneously with WEEE, they introduced RoHS (Restriction of Hazardous Substances), so solder had to be made out of something other than lead. Now it is. Problem is, it doesn't stick properly like lead used to, so most electrical equipment now has a life of maybe 2-3 years, then it fails. And you can't landfill it, because of WEEE, even though RoHS says there's no "HS" in it.

That is the EU. This "legislation", produced by lawyers and environmentalists, is reported to have cost TRILLIONS (that's million of millions) Euros to enact and accomplish.

Here is the funny bit, though. Electronic components generally have metals in them. Many different kinds. They are mined, from the ground, or produced from ores found in the ground.

Metals are elements. Such as Silicon (for chips etc), Gallium (for LEDs), Tantalum (for capacitors), and so on. You can't make them, because nobody has yet invented the philosopher's stone, except for Harry Potter.

And they are going to run out ("no shit, Sherlock," I hear you cry).

Possibly as soon as 2012.

Teh Funneh. See the irony there?


BANS. So far, two that I can see. In as many hours.

Big Society. Small Government.

BAN loss-leading on booze.

BAN daft interest rates on store cards.

Look, chaps, or should I say cunts, WE are society. We don't HAVE to have a store card. We don't HAVE to buy cheap booze. I haven't got a store card because their interest rates are exorbitant, and I don't need anything that the store can sell me, that I can't save up and wait for. And I get my booze off Polish lorry drivers MUCH cheaper than the supermarkets can afford to sell it. Same with fags.

But if we want to do daft things, who are YOU, the Small Government, to decide for us?

I am sniffing something that sounds an awful lot like double-dealing bullshit. Nanny State, MK II.

Sort it out.

Wednesday, 19 May 2010


Ellie's done a post.

It needs to be read.

I have commented. I expect my comment to be deleted in the usual way. If it isn't, thank you Ellie.

If it is, it is reproduced here:

I expect this comment to be deleted, because it is a) from me and b) from a Liberal Tory.

However, I would ask that you do me the courtesy of reading it.

You ask "where it went wrong". It went wrong in my view when Labour became New Labour. Your best bet would be to resurrect the Labour Party as it used to be, whose aim was to defend the workers against the evil employing classes (aka the privileged). They still exist, and some of them are still undoubtedly bad. However, the unions overstepped their remit (see British Airways for details) and succumbed to the desire for power, which makes them as bad as the "enemy".

The country NEEDS a Labour Party. Ask someone like Tony Benn, he'll put you right. Get rid of the "communism by stealth" Fabian society, it won't work.

And lastly, analyse where you are. I thinks omeone like you would be an asset to the Party with your youth and enthusiasm, but please don't blindly spout the mantra. It's so far wrong there's no path to right from it.

There are some in your Party who have the right attitude and the "moral compass" that the Party needs. None of them are running for leadership.

Kind Regards

Friday, 14 May 2010


I note that the bottom decile of earners (that's the poor) spend more on VAT than the people in the next bracket up.

VAT isn't applied to kids' stuff such as clothes and shoes, nor proper food. Therefore the bottom decile MIGHT BE spunking it. Possibly on McDonalds.

We were poor. Potless. We never asked for handouts. We're not poor now, thanks to education and determination.

So by way of a contribution which will no doubt be taken as patronising, here is something my mum used to make for us when we were sprogs, and it's bloody brilliant. And cheap.

Mum called it pea and ham soup. There are no peas in it, and no ham either. Great. I, my brother and both sisters still make this, a lot. Trust me, it's the dog's  bollocks. Or, at least, the pigs feet.


Ham Hock. Ham hock is knuckle, the bit between the pork and the trotter. Trotter is OK too but tends to have been tramping around in pigshit for most of its life, so use hock. You can buy it from posh shops such as Waitrose, so I bet TESCO (spits) sell it. And butchers used to give it away - bet they don't now.

The same weight as the ham hock in each of: carrots (the rubbishest carrots you can get), onions (any old rubbish onions), and lentils (red ones). The lentils is the dearest bit. Assuming you had a one pound hock, you've now got four poiunds of the best bloody dinner you can buy. Plus spuds.

Making it:

Boil this ham hock, which looks like a piece of football. Boil it for an hour or so, reasonably vigorously. Add water if it dries up. Keep the water, and remove the sorry-looking thing from the pan. Put it onto a chopping board, and attack it with a sharp knife; it will fall to bits and you will be left with pinkish meat, bone, and leather. Cut up the pinkish meat (including the fat) into chunks. Chop up the onions, carrots (don't bother peeling anything) into chunks too, shove it all in a casserole dish (or slow cooker if you're lucky enough to have one), sprinkle all the lentils over the top, slug in some of the evil juice from the hock-boiling, and make up with water. If you can handle it, do it all with juice, but it comes out strong. I mean strong.

Add the bone (there will probably only be one), and the leather, in a lump. Add salt to taste. If you use Lo-Salt you can haul it in, unless you've got kidney problems in which case you shouldn't really be eating this at all. Add pepper if you like it, black freshly ground is what I prefer. And, to be honest, anything else you like in the way of herbs and spices, especially if you grow them in the garden/pots/bathroom.

Turn the oven onto about 120C. Shove it in. Or put the slow-cooker on low. Leave for anything between 5 hours and four days.

When ready, pull it out, remove the bone and leather (which the dog will chew and eat), stir it, and serve on a blanket of mash[1].

Simples! Makes your kids big and strong. You can keep it for ages without the fridge, as long as you make sure it's boiled again every day. None of us have died.

[1] Mash - take some potatoes, peel them ... I don't REALLY have to do this, do I?

Tuesday, 11 May 2010


Just been to the bank. The bank's in the town centre. The town centre is full of young, mainly pigugly girls with pushchairs containing at least two kids, they wear trackie bottoms and lots of jewellery in holes they make in themselves. The chaps are equally ugly, smelly, cruffy and eat McDonalds in the street.

They don't work.

They don't want to.

They don't need to.

They are mainly unemployable except doing jobs which the Poles are doing nicely.

That's why I don't want Labour.

That's why, if a Labour pact gets into government, I shall opt out of of society completely. Because I can.

Monday, 10 May 2010


There is a joke, a very puerile one, which can be easily adapted for any Prime Minister, and almost certainly will be in the next few days if not hours. It goes like this:

When we were a Kingdom, we were ruled by a King. Then we were an Empire, and ruled by an Emperor. Now were a Country, we're ruled by Gordon Brown. David Cameron. Nick Clegg.

Whatever. More of similar whatever happens. Europe appear to be in control, demanding money with menaces to prop up Greek early-retirees, so the populace can justify storming their government offices with molatoff cocktails.

But I'm confused. I'm confused about where we, as a Nation, stand. Or as a Country. A State.

According to that oracle, that fount of all knowledge, the Encylopaedia Brittanica of the noughties, Wikipedia, we are a country. We being England. We being Britain. We being Great Britain. We being England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland as an addendum. And probably the Isle of Man and a couple of crofts somewhere betwixt the Isle of Wight and Eyafjalljokull and no, I can't be bothered to look up how to spell that, let alone say it.

If you look at a political map of the UK (all those places together) you will see that the southerly bit is blue, the northerly bit is read, there is a scattering of yellow bits all over the place and anywhere else (such as Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland) are purple with spots of various other colours interspersed within.

These places are, apparently, all countries. And the whole thing is a country. And a Nation. And a State. And it is part of Europe, which is a Continent (or was when I went to school). And a Nation, a State, a Corporate Conglomerate. A Can of Worms.

I'm English. That means that I'm European, and British, and Very, Very Confused. My identity seems to have been absorbed over the last 300 years, and I am now a member of Great Britain, the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Northish Europe, Oceania and I'm losing the plot.

I am English. I intend to remain English. I was born in the Southwest of ENGLAND, in the County of Devon, and I am English. I do not really think of myself as British, Scotland is somewhere I like but it's bloody cold most of the time, the Welsh are bonkers and waste MY money on stupid roadsigns to prop up a ridiculous language that about three people speak, I've never been to Ireland so I can't comment (but apparently they do Guinness), and Europe is a place you go to eat pate de foie gras, drink Rioja and buy decent dark chocolate. And drive on the right.

I didn't ask for any of this. I can't cope with Great Britain. I don't want to be part of anything bigger. The bigger it gets the worse it gets, the more stupid it gets. Devolve the bloody lot, I say. Let Scotland have the oil. Let Wales have the coal. Let Ireland have the Guinness, the shamrock or whatever else turns them on.

I'm staying in England.

THIS is how strongly I feel, and both my readers will understand why this hurts:

If ConDemNation involves getting any closer to Europe or the Euro, I would RATHER HAVE GORDON BROWN AS PRIME MINISTER.


Aaaargh. I was discussing random stuff, out of politeness more than anything else, with someone who could best be described as a distant relative last night.

She has kids, three. One is pretty average and does what kids do. One other is not, and it turns out the she is a bit something-or-the-other on the wossnameistic scale (I was paying attention, as you can see). The other is a dolt.

Anyhow, for reasons I cannot possibly fathom, she started wittering on about the fact that her number two (no, not a euphemism) has now been given one-to-one tuition. Great, I say. "Paid for by **** County Council", she goes on to say.

"Er, what?" I say, "Paid for by me, you mean?"

She ignores this. "Also, EVERY kid in the class, more than thirty of them, have a violin, also funded by ****."

"Shit and derision", think I. She truly believes that the money tree that is **** Council, paying for thirty-something violins, is a good idea? Which demented pillock thinks that THAT is a good idea?

I know more about music than I know about most things. This will come as no surprise to both of my readers, for they surely know by now that I know sweet FA about virtually everything else. But violins?

Pianos make a noise when you bonk one of the keys. They make the correct noise. Clarinets are similar, as are recorders. Violins make a noise akin to that of a cat begin rectally abused by something sharp. They play at a pitch dependent upon the position of the assailant's digit, rather like the cat, and they can be the most fearsome torture known to man. They are not suitable tools for any but the most dedicated youngster, and then only in soundproofed rooms.

But that isn't the point. I can play many instruments, ranging in proficiency from rather well to rather badly. The violin is an exception to this, and with good reason. But why, why in the name of all that's bonkers, is **** Council providing a violin to EVERY kid in this class? Why?

And, if you think you've got even half an answer, let me tell you that **** Council is Tory-controlled, before and after the last election.

The mind boggles.

Friday, 7 May 2010


I gather there is an MP running for somewhere and running for Councillor for somewhere else. I hope it isn't true. It would be silly.

It would be just as silly for someone to run for election in somewhere like Kirkcaldy, Buckingham, Witney or Sheffield Hallam and then really not be very interested in what their constituents are doing, because they are busy running government.

I want my MP, although he/she will be obviously spending a lot of time in London, to be in touch with what's going on here, where I am. Mine is.

Just saying. Genuinely don't understand why I should vote for anyone whose main interests are national, not local.



Proportional Representation, where if 10 million people vote for A, and 8 million vote for B, then A gets in.

Pros and Cons?

At the moment, Tories can't govern even though they got more than Labour did 5 years ago (and Labour got less than Tories did) Can't be right.

Someone help me out, please?

Why is PR not right?

Wednesday, 5 May 2010


I'm consoling one of our Polish friends who works here. He works bloody hard, too. He has a family, he is buying a house. He works all hours God sends and he does work that I wouldn't want to do. He never complains.

He has gathered from propaganda from the Labour Minitrue that when the EEEEVIL Tories get in, and he knows they will, he will lose first his job then his house.

We ALL know that when the Tories get in, tax will go up, petrol prices will double, we'll be in the Euro and a war will start with France. You told us. But come on, folks. It's one thing just lying your little tiny titties off about what will happen when Cameron gets in; we all die of cancer, our children will be taken from us - we're big enough and ugly enough to see through all that bollocks - after all we've had THIRTEEN YEARS of your constant lying and mind-control.

But leave my mate Pawel out of it. How can you stoop so low?

I've reassured him. But be ashamed of yourselves. Be VERY ashamed.

God, I'm going to be so pleased on Friday when your noses get rubbed in it.

Bastards. Utter, incontrovertible BASTARDS.

Tuesday, 4 May 2010


Socialism is a political philosophy. It espouses the control of production and resources such that an equilibrium is maintained between the rich and poor, thus eliminating poverty.

The mantra of socialism was coined (I believe) by Karl Marx, bearded loony and German. I was reminded of it the other day on Twitter, by @jenni_jackson, a clever lady who is active in the promotion of Labour and who, I hope, reads this. It is this:

"FROM each according to his ability, TO each according to his need"

It is misquoted in various forms, but the message is the same. What it means is that, in society, everyone should contribute according to his ability, be it financial or in the form of his labour, either in strength or skill. Conversely, everyone should be in a position whereby if they in need of anything and cannot provide it for themselves, they should be helped by the rest of society.

There's not much wrong with that, in principle. In practise, there are a couple of things wrong. One is that it was Marx's proposal for the fundamental tenet of communism. The other is that someone has to make the decision as to what someone's ability is, and what someone's need is. And that decision is too important to be made by a career politician.

And there is a philosophical problem with it, too. The problem there is that it is unarguable in principle, and it is emotive. You can't just brush it away without feeling guilty.

There are many people who for one reason or another will vote for the Labour Party this Thursday. Many will vote that way because they always have done, and because "New Labour" has the word "Labour" in it, and they recognise it. Many will vote for Labour because they are scared of Conservative, and they believe that Conservative means "Poll Tax Riots". Most of these people are too young, blinkered or brainwashed to accept anything different to this view of recent history. But many will vote Labour because of Marx's philosophy.

Allow me to destroy their illusions.

Marx's philosophy was designed to take society down the long road to communism. Fact. Communism doesn't work. Fact. For evidence of this, visit the USSR. The USSR would have been worse, save for a good war and technology. I won't go into to exactly how wonky communism is, you can find out for yourself. Ask a Russian - I believe you can not only communicate with them on the Internet but also arrange to have one shipped over for you to marry, if you are that way inclined.

New Labour, like Labour, have an end-game in mind which is not at all palatable. For some idea of what this end-game is, read 1984 and Brave New World. They're short books, you could read both in a day. They're also both available on the Internet if you can't afford them.

Some of the New Labour Party are not bad people. John Prescott is an example. I am sure that he firmly believes in socialist principles. But then, so do the Conservatives and the Liberals. I suspect that certain other parties also believe in such principles to a certain extent. I doubt that any party in Britain today would get a single vote if they did not espouse at least some philosophy of fairness and equality.

But that's where the good part of the Labour Party stops. Look at the track record of the party over the last thirteen years. Never mind what they say they will do. They have done virtually none of what they said they would do since they have been in power, although they HAVE done a whole lot of things which did not need doing. They have introduced the equivalent of a new law per day, ranging from the needless to the plain stupid. They have introduced levels of control on a scale previously unimaginable. Most of these measures were buried under other news, such is their skill in controlling the media. They have engineered not only society, but also the way society can change government - boundary changes, careful calculation of where benefits will most benefit their chances of re-election. I could go on, but if you read any of the other blogs there are huge lists of their dubious achievements.

Need. It is not the same as want.

Needs include food, water, sunlight. Wants include 42" plasma TV screens with a satellite dish or cable, takeaway curry, cigarettes and vodka.

Wants include children. Needs include education of these children.

Needs include access to a health professional, such as a doctor or a nurse, in times of sickness. Wants include cosmetic surgery and assisted conception.

Needs are things that all people should have. Wants are things that all people could have, if they could afford them. Not everybody could have the luxury yacht and crew enjoyed by Richard Branson who, through hard work, determination and good fortune, can afford one. And he has more money than you can shake a stick at so it isn't unreasonable for him to bung a bit of it towards those who haven't enough. But even if he has a trillion pounds (which he probably has), there is no reason at all to expect him to buy luxuries for those worse off. That isn't society, that's pure, unadulterated pie-in-the-sky nonsense.

And further, and this is indisputable, there is no reason at all for him, or anyone else, to fund someone who can't be bothered to work, or someone who thinks it's a great idea to pop out a child every year because "the state will pay".

And my last small point is a simple one. If the New Labour Party really do believe in a society of fairness and equality, why do they travel around first-class in limos with chauffeurs, on special jets, special trains, their own coaches? Why do they have homes worth millions upon millions of pounds? Why do they have private health care? Why do they then retire on gold-plated pensions and send their children to private schools? Hm?

If you are thinking of voting for Labour, please take a second to consider this.

The Conservatives will maintain the system and people won't starve. The Liberals will do the same. Neither is perfect, but there is none so imperfect as New Labour.

Please, please, for the sake of freedom and democracy, vote sense.

And if you're going to vote Labour, please do me the courtesy of leaving a comment to explain what I missed.