Thank Fuck for the Olympics

Phil had encountered what he had decided was a complete despondency with politics.

This was beyond apathy. That had happened years ago, and still offered the hope of the occasional breakthrough, or re-ignition.

He now had no faith in the system and no faith in the values on which it was based.

What values?

He used to believe in voting and taxes. The only requirement of a responsible electorate.

He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

He thought higher taxes were fairer, but he no longer trusted government to redistribute this income either equitably or even efficiently.

Healthcare and education were both fucked. Both the victims of makeshift policy based more on prejudice than thought, and both consigned to total annihalation as a result.

Unemployment massive.

Three tiers getting wider.

There was a new first tier appearing at the top. The string pullers. Who were they? Not government, not industry, but some nameless power which had gone beyond any single grasp.

Oil, banking, globalisation. Did anyone know the implications anymore?

And  a fourth tier. The children of Thatcher’s children. The children of miners, steel workers and manufacturers long since put out to pasture, the children of shipping yards long since deserted.

Social security was completely unmanageable. No one believed in it anymore. Of course, everyone was ‘on the take’, like it was some easy way out to have fuck all and ‘scrounge’ for what you could.

Prejudice everywhere.

Collective agency dead.

Capitalism out of control.

Government was an outdated, irrelevence, a nanny state pandering to the right wing press, but also a very real and punitive monstrosity completely out of touch with the life of the polity.

Thank fuck for the olympics.

What a fucking mess.


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