I largely don’t have a clue what has been happening to me – or anybody else – while I was taking the cure. If anyone knows what I have been doing over the last few weeks please write care of this postbox.
But the country – I see from the daily rag – is still in a nosedive. The lists of the dead are coming in like battlefront reports and the ruling prefects are getting mugged by Grub Street at every turn. Not that they don’t deserve it. They are more incompetent than I am. Fancy making promises on things that can be tallied! Any greenhorn should see that one coming. Quotes like: ‘we’ll have a million gas masks here by Friday’ and ‘a zillion blight finders by Christmas’ are bound to land them in hot water. The problem is the grub street reptiles can check up on these things and see exactly how short our leaders are coming up.
This – I have decided – is the fundamental problem with politics. As soon as a policy is measurable it’s no bloody good. Because it’s a cheap promise but an expensive failure… All the chickens they fire at the voters usually take years to come home to roost – by which time everyone but a few obsessives have forgotten all about them. But under the current spotlight the normal guff our leaders are spouting isn’t standing up. They need a new approach – telling the truth would be a start – but the old order has served them well, so they are not about to ditch a habit of a lifetime.
Which is unfortunate because at the moment the Government’s performance looks worse than my liver function tests. And those results are so bad I may as well have been drinking Drano as per that idiot Trump’s suggestion. It would have saved me a fortune at Pomeroy’s prices!
Bulk and The Devil 