IN recent years, political debate has been reduced to the point where only one thing is ever discussed: Immigration.
On one side, you have the Labourites, who wave their Palestinian flags around and want to throw our borders open to everyone.
PAStarmer has no clue what to do about the economy because he’s thick… that’s why he’s broken it[/caption]
PAFarage rarely talks about the economy and when he does, his numbers don’t add up[/caption]
And on the other, you have the Reformists, who tie their Union Flags to lampposts and want our borders to be slammed shut.
There’s no middle ground and there’s certainly no polite discussion.
Karl Starmer hurls insults at Nigel Farage and Farage responds by lobbing them straight back.
And things are even worse on social media, which has become a seething cauldron of venomous hate. It’s a worry, if I’m honest. But then, this week, up popped something called “The Conservative Party”.
Do you remember the Tories? Probably not, so let me jog your memory.
In a monochromatic past that only old people can remember, they talked about fiscal responsibility and good housekeeping and business and we found them a bit boring.
But despite this, they were the party we always turned to after a Labour government had messed everything up.
However, one day, for reasons no one can quite understand, they decided to stop being sensible.
They decided they’d become caring ’n’ sharing, Instagram-compliant Blairites. And they also decided that they should elect a new leader every 12 seconds.
This meant they weren’t doing what their instincts told them to do, and they had no one firmly in charge to do it anyway. And the result was: They damn nearly wiped themselves out.
This week, they had their annual conference, in a Scout hut in Manchester, for the sole remaining members, a lady called Doris from Bournemouth and a floppy-haired hooray from Durham University who’d been charged with the task of writing a patriotic message on the goodie bag chocolates. And spelled Britain wrong.
Naturally, I was expecting the speakers to bang on about immigration because that is all anyone’s talking about these days. But no. A man called Mel Stride (me neither) boinged on to the dais and started banging on about drive, ambition and decency.
He talked about the need to jump-start business. He talked about how wealth creation should be fostered and cherished, and pointed out something that all the other parties seem to have forgotten: Wealth is created not by government but by entrepreneurs, business and the hard-working millions.
Then he topped it off by saying that if he becomes Chancellor of the Exchequer, he’ll abolish business rates for shops and pubs on the high street.
GettyI was so amazed by Mel Stride’s common sense at the annual conference in Manchester, I had to be brought round with smelling salts[/caption]
Smelling salts
And he’ll cover the cost of this by cutting £47billion of spending, including on the massive civil service, most of which spends its time organising welfare payments for the six million people in this country who choose not to work.
I was so amazed by the common sense, I had to be brought round with smelling salts.
Farage rarely talks about the economy and when he does, his numbers don’t add up. He says he wants to cut taxes and increase spending by £150billion. Huh?
But before anyone has the chance to question his logic, he scuttles back to his safe space and starts raging about small boats. Starmer, meanwhile, has no clue what to do about the economy because he’s thick. That’s why he’s broken it.
The fact is that nothing in this country will work if the economy isn’t booming, and it won’t boom if we have a government that stifles it with rules and taxes.
Britain needs to be the easiest and the cheapest country in the world to start a business.
And anyone who tries should be encouraged and nurtured. Because if they make it a success, they create jobs and people get paid and they spend their wages on things, and the sun comes out and everyone’s happy.
For maybe ten years, no political party has understood this. But now, there’s a glimmer of hope that one of them has finally got the message.
It’s just a shame that the only people who heard this message were Doris and Toby.
A HEADLINE in The Times this week said, “Everything you think you know about abs is wrong.”
This confused me because I don’t know anything at all about abs. I don’t even know what one is.
ROPED INTO UNI LIFE
GettyAdventurous new kids at universities across Britain are now able to join ‘kink’ societies[/caption]
SO, it seems that adventurous new kids at universities across Britain are now able to join “kink” societies.
Naturally, I looked into this and it seems that at York, BDSM enthusiasts are told they don’t need to bring a partner as they will probably be able to team up with someone when they arrive.
Or, it says, they can learn how to tie themselves up.
Right, I see. So you go into a room full of strangers, take all your clothes off and then immobilise yourself.
And then what? You can’t use your limbs so presumably you just lie there for a bit and then ask someone to undo you.
And here I was thinking that university societies were for people who liked to play chess.
BEING quite old, I’m not as tech savvy as I’d like to be, so I’m hoping a younger reader can help me out with something that’s troubling me.
Is it possible to change the settings in my social media so that I never receive any footage of Greta Thunberg ever again?
PEASANT JOURNEY
THE road in a nearby village was closed for roadworks this week so I was sent on the weirdest diversion in history.
At first, it was all as you’d imagine. Lots of Cotswold loveliness. But soon, the road surface started to become extremely wobbly and uneven like there’d just been an earthquake.
Then there were no villages at all, just peasants with the plague.
It was like I’d been diverted through the 11th century. I half expected to find Uhtred son of Uhtred coming the other way on a horse.
I looked on a map later to see where I’d been but all it said was “there be witches”.
FLYING AD
IN the latest TV commercial for British Airways, we see a newborn baby snuggling into its seat under the watchful gaze of its adoring mother.
Right. So that’s BA off my list. Because what I want is an airline that puts babies where they belong, in a soundproof box, in the hold.
THE FASHION FOR IDIOT CLOTHES
GettyI cannot work out why a rich person might be so interested in expensive clothes that they are happy to fly half way round the world to Paris Fashion Week[/caption]
Shutterstock EditorialBut it turns out big fashion designers actually pay Hollywood stars to come and watch the thin people strutting about[/caption]
I CAN sort of understand why a rich person might be interested in an expensive watch or even an expensive set of golf bats.
And I can certainly understand why they might be interested in an expensive car.
But I cannot for the life of me work out why they might be so interested in expensive clothes that they are happy to fly half way round the world to Paris Fashion Week so they can watch a collection of thin people modelling an old tyre held together with bits of newspaper.
This week, however, it all became clear because it turns out that the big fashion designers actually pay Hollywood stars to come and watch the thin people strutting about in a dress made from coal and old sardine cans. And I bet it’s not a hundred quid either.
So these designers have it in their heads that rich people will buy the sardine can dress because they know Nicole Kidman or Pedro Pascal was once paid to come and look at it.
I suppose that sums up the fashion world.
Silly clothes: Made by idiots, for idiots.
SplashThe fashion world is silly clothes, made by idiots, for idiots[/caption] Published: [#item_custom_pubDate]
