Category Archives: politicians

Politicians vs Humans

It’s been a while since I’ve done a ‘Vs’ post (the last one was back in February of last year, the provocatively named Women Vs Men) but the arrival of BoosterBoy to the Palace’s ranks – well, rank – has caused an element of competition, so here we are.

A common thread through some of my posts is about social responsibility and how the government is creating an ever more nannying state due to the hordes of people who haven’t got the common sense1 to look after themselves. I’m talking about obesity, education, that sort of thing: important social “stuff”.

As I’ve mentioned before, it seems clear to me that the nanny state exists because the Government feels that it has to help out the barely cogent hordes out there who fuck up their lives just a little bit more every day. So, rather than let them fuck it up and deal with the social and political fallout, they get a bit proactive and remove the responsibility which they’ve proven incabable of shouldering.

The point is that it is the few that force the changes, which means minority rules. Now, I’ve got a piece of paper round here somewhere that says we live in a democracy (from the Greek demos people + kratos strength) where the people decide what goes down. What we have is more like a fuckoffracy (from the Palace of Righteous Justice fuckoff people can fuck off + racy politicians can do what they like), where the politicians bend us over.

Elections are pointless anyway, because the politicians do what they want. Elections exist to give the electorate the illusion of control, that somehow we decide how the country is run. And they wonder why electoral turn-out is so low. I haven’t voted ever – not true; I voted once, for the Green Party, back when I though it mattered – because, as the years roll on and governments come and go, nothing changes. Labour got in a while back; can’t say that I noticed the difference.

So, we elect a new government because they tell us lots of good stuff about lower taxes and more cops and nurses; all good, progressive stuff. However, they then spend the next four years doing the following;
a) shoring up the mess left by the last lot (or at least blaming them for it),
b) spending all the cash looking after;
1) the people who can’t look after themselves,
2) the people who could look after themselves if they could be bothered.
c) try to sort some foreign dispute,
d) while failing to address pressing domestic issues.

Not forgetting the big omission which is to fail, spectacularly and conspicuously, to deliver on any of the promises they made during the election campaign. Now, we know all this. If you were to collar Joe Public in the street and ask him whether he believed that the government will lower taxes, he’ll scoff and walk on. So why do we even bother going through the whole rigmarole?

It is the job of the Opposition party to keep the pressure on the ruling party, which boils down to them standing up in the Commons and saying “Does the Honourable Gentleman really expect us to believe…”, to which the Rt Hon. Mr P. Minister replies, with utter conviction, “Yes, I bloody well do!”, to which the Opposition laughs, makes loud scoffing noises and mutters “Well, we don’t” under it’s breath.

None of the above advances society a jot. It doesn’t change peoples lives for the better. In fact, I’m struggling to see what governments actually do for us.


1 Is there anthing less common than Common Sense?

Talks: All mouth and no exploding trousers.

Talks. Only politicians and diplomats can have Talks. Everyone else has conversations, chats, arguments, gossips, you name it, they do it. But they never Talk, oh no.

There are other things that politicians and diplomats do that involves talking, but they’re not Talks. Conferences are where they talk to their people and their people can stand up and clap and go “Bravo, you’re a stand up guy!”. Summits1 are where all the leaders get together in a locked room, drink brandy, tell knock-knock jokes and make fun of the President of Guatemala whose wig isn’t on straight. Meetings are where they get together their closest people and decide who gets to go on Paxman and draw straws to see who gets fired for this weeks balls-up.

Talks are where they get everyone in a big round room and sit them round a big round table with headphones on while all their minions run about in the background carrying bits of paper from one the President of Uzbekistan to the Prime Minister of Kenya asking “Have you got a mint?”.

One by one, they all get up in front of a microphone and;
1/ If they’re from South-somewhere-or-other, they make loud, angry statements about the First World bastards and all their evil doings,
2/ If they’re from East-somewhere-else, they make cryptic, veiled threats about the intrusion of the First World gaijin bastards into their back-yard nuclear programmes, because they didn’t sign any non-proliferation treaty and, besides, you guys don’t hold to your agreements anyway, so why should we? Hello, Kyoto? The UN?,
3/ If they’re from Middle-somewhere, they decry the validity of the talks, their infidel First World bastard hosts and their oil-grabbing-poorly-disguised-as-nation-building foreign policy,
3/ If they’re First World bastards, they roll their eyes and make placating statements about striving for peace and protecting their way of life.

All this is then relayed, via interpreters, into the headphones of all the people who don’t speak Kreplakistani. Basically, the single Kreplakistani interpreter could say anything he likes because no-one can call him on it. That’s why, when Talks are televised, the people with the headphones on are all smiling while the guy with the microphone is all red and shouty; the interpreter is telling them the joke he heard from the Kreplakistani ambassador about the Swedish flight attendant and the ping pong ball.

So they all come out much later on and are collared by reporters who ask how the Talks are going, to which they reply that progress is being made and that it’s a difficult process. “Progress” means that each hour they sit there is an hour nearer the end of the talks and “Difficult” means that each hour they sit there is another hour they won’t get back.

Then they all climb into black S-class Mercedes and are ferried back to their embassies, official residences or high-class knocking shops around the corner where the South-somewhere and East-somewhere types can get their freak on. What goes on tour, stays on tour.

At the end of it all, nothing is resolved, everyones prejudicies have been confirmed, thousands of litres of Evian have been quaffed, many knock-knock jokes told, many S-classes soiled by twice, maybe three times as many oiled-up escort girls, opinions have been voiced, grievances aired, canapes scoffed, hands shaken, toupees glued and hotels secured.

Everyone goes back to their stomping ground and, having wined, dined and soixante-neufed anthing that wasn’t nailed down while away, they then proceed to pee on the media fires that their absence has generated.

Who’d be a politiplomat, eh?

1 Why are these never held on top of mountains?