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Showing posts with label incompetence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label incompetence. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 27, 2021

What is worse?

 

 Cráneo, Calabera, Esqueleto, Hueso

Where is William Rees-Mogg?  What crypt have the Conservatives confined him in?  He is certainly safely far away from public view.

     You must understand that I do not enquire about his whereabout through any concern on my part about his welfare, but my mind has turned towards him as I have read through the Guardian reports about the latest shenanigans in the on-going horror story of corruption and sleaze, incompetence and arrogance, callous disregard and breath-taking audacity that mark each new day in the life of the United Kingdom’s so-called Conservative government.

   Why, you would have every reason to ask, does my mind turn towards Rees-Mogg during these testing times?  Why dwell, even for a moment, on the Slytherin Dark Prince of Pure Brexit?

     Well, the truth of the matter is that the Liars’ Liar, Pile-‘em-High Johnson, has descended so far into the miasmic pit of deceit and corruption that, by comparison, his satanic highness Rees-Mogg looks more and more like a reasonable chappie.

     And that assertion tells you that British Conservative Politics has reached a level of awfulness that all previous language and concepts designed to express disgust are clearly inadequate.  If Who-Knows-How-Many-Children Johnson is now an even less attractive option than Rees-Mogg, then we truly have reached the End Times.

     But, just when you despair, Gove comes to mind, to remind you that there are depths that even the blundering loquacity of Johnson and the diamond distain of Rees-Mogg have yet to plumb.

     The gut-wrenching awfulness of Gove’s appearance in the Commons to justify/explain/excuse the criminal train wreck of a government led by a serial liar was a master class in repulsive Jesuitical casuistry.  Gove is no fool and he chooses his words with a care which is entirely lost on the average baying hooray henry of his party. 

     Every ‘speech’ by Gove should be analysed by a group of hand-picked pedants to find out exactly what he said, rather than what he gave the impression of having said.  Or perhaps his ‘speeches’ should be analysed by a group of insurance policy underwriters who are well used to finding ways out of fulfilling their obligations.  They are the ones who can look at a statement like, “I did not hear him say that when I was in the room,” and explain that ambiguity allows, “I was outside the room when I heard him say it,” to be true without making the first statement a lie.

     I always feel sullied when I hear Gove speak; his words are the equivalents of smuts – to hear is to be defiled.

     Johnson, in so far as he has penetrated the consciousness of the people around me who are not British, is regarded as an absurd figure of fun, he is treated with common contempt and is summed up in the public’s mind by the before-and-after pictures of his first post-lockdown haircut, where the universal response was, “Did he pay actual money for that!”

     I am ashamed of the government of the United Kingdom, and I am deeply ashamed that so many of my fellow countrymen continue to support a Prime Minister who, in my view, should be prosecuted for corporate manslaughter.

 

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 58 – Tuesday, 12th May



I slept the sleep of the dead after my exertions yesterday.  Though thinking about it, that metaphor could have been better chosen.  In fact, it is a wonder I ever get to sleep given my insatiable appetite for the depressingly predictable latest escapades of Orangeblond a portmanteau word I will now use to refer to the sad populist narcissistic twins of the USA and UK, as they vie with each other to show which one cares less about the population they pretend to ‘serve’.
     Try as I might, I cannot wean myself from the heady narcotic cocktail of BBC news and The Guardian, with a dash of Spanish and Catalan televisualisation to add an exotic spice to my neurosis.  Though, thinking about it, wouldn’t an absence of neurosis in these times argue a disassociation from what is actually going on that would be a compelling basis for a text book definition of mental illness?
     No one in Britain (including [especially?] the government) appears to have the slightest idea about what has been ““decided”” – and the double inverted commas there appear to be far too subtle to give a clear idea of the tenuous nature of the word as it is applied to government policy.
     Yesterday/today/tomorrow is when the population should/should not go to work by foot/bike/Star trek beam if possible and not by public transport unless you have to  .  .  .  and one could go on, but this government defies irony and sarcasm.
     600 deaths today, three thousand new cases – how is this a situation in which it is sensible to ease the lockdown.  The testing target was missed AGAIN yesterday – and without adequate testing, anything that the government says is nugatory.  So no surprise there then!

My bike ride this morning was fairly early, but there were many people around, with bikes outnumbering cars and the same thing on my bike ride in the evening.  The evening ride should be Plague Kid Free as their time to roam around ends at 7pm – except of course for those parents who don’t want to stick by the rules.  There were over twenty Plague Kids joining the adults on the paseo; and yes, I counted, just as I counted the number of cyclists who had lights on when I made my way back from the far end of Castelldefels (23 out of 127, if you are interested) and thought to myself, if people are not prepared to do something as simple as switching lights on in the darkness, what hope do we have for something more sophisticated and difficult when connected to the requirements for a successful lockdown?
     Not good!