THE DISCOVERY OF THE UNELECTED HOUSE
Did they only just realise? Did they read it in the Guardian? Was there a Panorama exposé that I missed? “The unelected house of Lords.” I never thought I would hear this phrase saturate the mainstream media so thoroughly. Tories now utter these words as if they were offended by them. The press, aghast, has only now discovered the existence of this centuries old institution. I would have thought that the “Lords” part of the phrase would make the “unelected” part superfluous. Remember all those history lessons about peasants electing Lords to whip and exploit them into an unhappy plague infested grave? No, neither do I. One does not elect a Lord. It is a contradiction in terms. What the Tories are actually upset about is that this unelected body has for once in its existence voted in the interests of working people. We can’t be having that! What’s the point of an unelected house if it responds to the views of the electorate?
I am talking of course about tax credit cuts, or this week, the lack thereof. In a victory for Labour Leader and die-hard Stalinist Jeremy Corbyn, the House of Lords under pressure from a “cross party alliance” voted to postpone the implementation of the cuts – which would leave 3 million working people worse off. The government is very cross with the unelected house – many of whom they unelected in the first place – for voting the wrong way. They now want to “review” how the House works. But if they are so offended by the unelected quality of the house, why not abolish it? Such notions lie far beyond the intellectual capacities of the British Establishment. What would they do without such fine feudalists as Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber in positions of actual power? Why, this fine Tory loyalist flew in especially from New York to vote for economic barbarism. I can’t work out why everyone is so surprised about Webber. After all, his biggest hits were a musical which lauded the life of a Nazi spy and one whose protagonists were humanoid singing cats – he’s clearly fuckin mental.
THE DEPARTMENT FOR WANTON PUNISHMENT
But we shall away from the unelected house and onto the more solidly maniacal terrain of the Department for Work and Pensions. Unlike the Lords they are not flimsy minded and skittish about their commitment to the destruction of virtue. Under the iron leadership of Iain Duncan Smith, dubbed IDS by the press (an unfortunate abbreviation which makes one envision both Irritable Bowel Syndrome and the Israeli Defence Forces simultaneously) the DWP has been stridently starving people to death and rehabilitating slavery in order to “Get Britain working again.” This week IDS announced that there would now be DWP staff available at food-banks, and that this concept could be rolled out “across the whole of the UK.”
This is just what the poor need. After trekking embarrassed and hungry to a food-bank because the DWP has just sanctioned you, you discover one of their obsessively grinning officials inside the door telling you how to get a job. On my excursion to the food-bank (a church) I was greeted by an over-enthusiastic but compassionate born-again Christian who took my hands in hers and to my bafflement asked me what I would like her to ask God for. I said, “Good coffee.” Although an irreligious communist homosexual I remain, I would take this superstitious spectacle any day over the mumbo jumbo gibberish uttered by the unremorsefully satanic DWP. They’ll be coming round to your house for breakfast next, giving coffee courses on self-esteem (which they will promptly plunder) and mindfulness (whilst they insert their probes). On second thoughts, I should have told the kindly Christian woman to ask God for Kalashnikovs, and semtex.
THE GOD AND THE WINE
The British have “secured” the release of a Briton in jail in Saudi Arabia. He was sentenced to 350 lashes for possessing alcohol. While it’s fine news that the 74 year old will now not be getting whipped for having home-made wine, we should pause to wonder about the sudden compassion of the Brits. You see the British State enthusiastically funds, trades with and arms the Saudi regime (I don’t know if they sell them lashes, but certainly cruise missiles). Peas in a pod. In bed together. Blood brothers. And as one Briton is released, thousands of Arabians remain in jail, hundreds of Yemenis are killed and millions are subjugated by the world’s richest monarchy.
Here’s how it works. I’m not pals with serial killers who behead people with big knives. This is because people might think that I condone the actions of my friend. Nor do I actually like serial killers who behead people with big knives – I prefer a guillotine – much more democratic. So when the British State is cozy with international big knifed beheaders, would one not be led to believe that they condone it? If not, why would you still be pals with them? It doesn’t make much difference that you’ve persuaded your friend not to behead – or in this case flail – one of them, knowing he is going to go on much the same. It’s like patting yourself on the back for convincing Jack the Ripper to take his victim to dinner first.
THE WHINING AND THE GOD
In other news, a senior HOMOSEXUAL PERVERT and Vatican official who has just come out said, “I am not a monster.” What to make of this? Unless he has missed the last 30 years of European sexual politics he’s clearly convinced himself that he is the protagonist in David Lynch’s The Elephant Man. Either way, each to their own – I don’t judge. Only God does – and he’s going to burn him in a big lake of fire. Get behind me Satan! Don’t question me on the motives of the Lord….I didn’t vote for him.