While Cap’n Birdseye is handing out the lollipops and creating fiscal black holes, Theresa Maybe is smacking pensioners and dementioners to show fiscal responsibility. The former is reliant on gargantuan debt-accumulation (carrot), the latter a dominatrix-style reality-check (stick). Neither tactic is necessary. Both are in the casino. Corbyn is splashing the cash around hoping that tripling the national debt and few rich idiots will raise billions to cover his losses; May is playing hardball because she’s far enough ahead to piss off a few people.
Why can’t there be a moderate voice of reason and compromise? We all know that social care, end-of-life care, education, policing, NHS, defence and the rest need paying for. Corbyn is a far left man, Theresa a pretty far right woman. Do we need either? When I cast my Lib Dem vote, Greg Clarke, Con. MP for Tunbridge Wells, Energy minister and Thunderbird, won’t lose much sleep. His majority is huge (God alone knows why). Proportional representation seems as much of a pipe dream as ever so the centrists – that’s probably most of us – are resigned, in many places, to cast votes that don’t matter.
Having seen the Scottish slanging match t’other night and the border conflict issue brewing in Northern Ireland, we could do well to have a voice of sanity to help us all out. Step up Tim Farron! There’s so much noise around – the sucking of lollipops and the abrasive smacking of pensioner bank balances, that we need a Middle of the Road to sing Chirpy Chirpy Cheep-cheep. Apologies if the retro pop song link is lost on you.
I have decided to hold my breath during news and politics programmes for the next couple of weeks. I either pass out or get so lightheaded that the claims and counter-claims make me laugh. Along with serial non-answering of plain questions.
Jezza Corbyn’s supporters should immediately take up My Boy Lollipop, the 60s classic sung by Millie, as their battle-song. Its brilliant rhyming and scansion is perfect for his sucking-up message.
My boy lollipop,
You make my heart go giddy-uo
You set my world on fire (fi – ya)
You are my one desire (de-si-ya)
etc.
We should look no further than Ian Dury (and his Blockheads) for the battlesong of Mother Theresa’s acolytes.
Hit me with your rhythm stick, hit me, hit me.
Das ist gut, c’est fantastique, hit me, hit me, hit me.
Hit me with your rhythm stick,
It’s nice to be a lunatic,
Hit me, hit hit me, hit….me.
Will someone please triple lock me up I lose the …will to laugh…or perhaps live.
simplysorro 
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