The Judge RANTS!
Date: 13/05/17
Kraft durch Fraud
I suppose I had to break my silence about the bloody thing eventually, even though it won't make a blind bit of difference to anything.
This soiled my letter-box on Saturday morning:
Yes, it's Our Glorious Leader Darth Mayder her very self, proclaiming how Strong and Stable (or SS, for short) she is! So much so that - in the space of four glossy pages (and they wouldn't have come cheap; I hope someone at Central Office is keeping an eye on the invoices this time) - that wretched vacuous soundbite appears no fewer than three times on the front page alone (plus a "strengthen" and a "stronger" just for good measure), and a further four times on the subsequent pages (along with an additional variant "Strong, Stable").
The main image on the front page is - like almost all photographs of The Queen Of Mayday - unfortunate, in that it makes her look as if she was about to eat someone's face. Presumably in order to counterbalance that terrifying impression, the text below provides us with the bumf's first joke. It tells us of her having:
"...visited towns and cities across the UK..."
Now, this is not inaccurate as it stands; she has got about a bit these last two weeks or so. The trouble is, the one thing that she and her minders have been determined to ensure is that the general public are kept well away from her. This is not an act of public-spiritedness, done to protect the generality of proles from the Curse Of Maydusa, but done simply because they recognise that she is totally incapable of any degree of improvisation; a sort of political Bob Hope, she has to have the cue-cards right in front of her at all times, and - like some call-centre drone - is incapable of departing from the pre-determined script.
Which is why, in all those towns and cities she has visited, she has appeared only in the presence of Party trusties (of whom more anon) or - in one case in Scotland - of tenant farmers practically ordered to be there by the lairdly landowner; where journalists have been required to submit their questions in advance, and who have even been locked in a room to prevent any unseemly contact with the quasi-regal presence. So much has she refused to engage with the public in general at such events that she might well earn the sobriquet Fire-Door Freda for her manner of entering and exiting the sometimes bizarre venues she has attended.
Venturing with understandable trepidation into the middle section of this publication, we find this:
Here - apart from a further one and a half iterations of SS - we come to the liar's feast. Key Reason Number 1 for May doing the thing that she said seven times that she wouldn't do is given as:
"We only have a short time [...] before EU leaders agree their position on negotiations."
Erm...Tessie, chuck? The rest of the EU had decided on its stance on the very day you decided to cut and run.
Key Reason Number 2 is - in all seriousness - disturbing:
"We need to show unity [...] but Westminster is divided."
It's called 'democracy', darling; it means that not everyone has to agree with you, and it's not a bad thing if they don't. But then, given that you have only ever been elected by thirty-five thousand odd people at the braying end of Berkshire, the concept might have passed you by.
"Labour, the Lib Dems and the SNP are already seeking to disrupt our negotiations."
The rascals! The rotters! The-the-the...saboteurs! To the Tower Ballroom with them!
The third Step to Tory Heaven comes to you from the Margaret Thatcher Memorial Alternative Universe:
"To lock in our economic progress [...] well-paid jobs, more affordable housing [...] a strong economy paying for a strong NHS."
The 'economic progress' we seem to need to be locked into currently stands at a growth figure a small fraction of every other competitor economy; apparently, zero-hours, 'gig economy' jobs are well-paid, housing isn't really out of the reach of 70 per cent plus of the population, and we have a strong NHS (although its IT is currently running an operating system which went out of support three years ago, and which can't be upgraded because the wonderfully competent Conservative party has slashed the service's budget year-on-year for nearly a decade; hence this).
Turning (if we must) to Page Three, we find this image of luscious, pouting lovelies:
Only half an SS here - cut in half from the bottom panel. But look at that photograph, will you? Please? I mean, I don't want to be the only one to have to look at it! Did you ever vada such ekes in your puff? I mean, apart from the fact that Theresa May is quite clearly being played here by the late and much-missed Victoria Wood, most of the men on the left of the picture look like the results of a secret breeding programme whereby the genes of Michael Howard have been spliced into the DNA of a puffer fish, and the women on the right look like the sort who would park their 4x4s in a disabled space without a moment's consideration. But look! There's a slightly tinted chappie bottom right, and next to him is an old Jewish guy, with a yarmulke and all! And he uses a walking-stick, so that's the cripple vote tied up (along with Tattoo from Fantasy Island bottom left).
Reaching (with some relief) the back page of this miracle of modern propaganda, we find:
What a choice we are presented with here, fellow consumers! "Let's get on with the job!", screeches Cruella (for the second time in as many pages), seeking to echo Churchill. Unfortunately, the only Churchill Theresa May is ever likely to resemble is that toy nodding dog on the parcel shelf from those wretched television commercials of times gone by. And, once again, her thoroughly unphotogenic nature is captured by the picture of her used. She, let it be noted, is in colour, whereas Nicola Sturgeon, Jeremy Corbyn and Tim Farron are shown in black-and-white, because they want to take us back to the 70s, don'tcha know, when everything was monochrome. Unfortunately for May, the only impression given by this co-location of images is that she has just floated off a silent-but-deadly and the other three have just smelled it.
Then, in a final act of mendacity/hypocrisy/lack of awareness, we are told what awful things might happen if those who want a 'Strong and Stable' crumbling Empire 2.0 are sufficiently blasé not to turn up to vote for the One True Way on June 8. People thought that Trump wouldn't be elected! But isn't Trump one of Tessie's few remaining possible allies? And Britain voted for 'Br**it'! But doesn't she now want precisely that? And wasn't it the sort of lukewarm effort that the likes of her put in to that campaign exactly one of the main causes of that reversal? And Corbyn was elected Labour leader! The key word here, sweetie, is 'elected', by the Party members, which is more than you have ever achieved.
I don't know quite why I've spent an entire Saturday evening Fisking this risible pamphlet rather than rewarding myself for a couple of hours' hard graft cutting the inside of the hedge by indulging in cider, online porn or trying to find YouTube videos of Joni Mitchell's back catalogue. I suppose the lure of countering the effrontery of such a brazen lump of bullshit was too strong. No matter - into the recycling bag it will now go, and in a few days' time will actually be serving a positive purpose somewhere.
And to think that we have nearly a month of this still to go...
