As it was – and still is – coming down like curtain rods out of a leaden sky where I be, I found myself watching The Daily Politics and Prime Minister's Questions. My impression? That was ninety minutes of my life I stupidly gave away. Give me DIY or dea... No, cancel that thought.
Now I appreciate I’m old and the police have all looked scarily young for a long time but Looking at the two MP’s they had in the studio, then casting my gaze round those in the big house, other than Old Mother May-be and ol’ Geriatric Jerry, the majority look like their mums probably dropped ‘em off at ‘work’ and will pick ‘em up again to take ‘em home. And these are the people responsible for running the country? ‘Yea, yea, yea’. Stamp, stamp, stamp. How sad.
Now the UKIP, ‘abandoned’ too soon by Mr Mirage, are dying in full view, how many folk out there are now silently screaming for somewhere to put their cross? Democrats and Veterans Party? Will this lot kick-off and then survive the predictable establishment onslaught?
Anyhoo, later, I took a trip to see a show I’d spotted advertised on TV. The advertisement promised a wild show featuring a huge happy cast, all grinning scarily and gyrating wildly while performing a really mundane task. I went, I waited, I was disappointed, I went home. I must’ve missed it.
Quote; O. Ameringer.
“Politics is the gentle art of getting votes from the poor and campaign funds from the rich, by promising to protect each from the other.”
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