Just another shitty day in cloud-cuckoo land

   Do you ever wake up in the morning and wonder if it’s just you or has the world gone totally insane – or, rather, more totally insane than ever? I do.

   So, when I saw that the head of RBS is to get a bonus of nearly £800K, I was rather wondering what it was for.  Then I discovered that he’s going to be getting it for his work in 2010. And that’s when the feeling of alternate reality kicked in. In 2010, the bank of which he was in charge had folk diddling with the LIBOR to boost income. As a result, RBS has been just been fined shedloads of money. Now, if Mr. Hester knew what was going on, he should be having his collar well and truly felt.  But it seems clear that he didn’t. In this case, why is he still in post, let alone being showered with shekels? Either he’s a thief who should be inside, or he’s incompetent and should be sacked.  Or am I, once again, showing my total lack of understanding of how capitalism and banking work?

   More unreality when hearing of the last words of a Holocaust survivor who died in Stafford hospital – ‘I had friends in Auschwitz. Here I have none.’. What in the name of a good and merciful God has happened there? And isn’t it fascinating that not one single member of staff at any level has been charged with some offence, any offence? It just seems that there is far more fuss over the fact that you can put £5 each way on your Findus Lasagne than over such a grotesque betrayal of the vulnerable and sick.

   When Thatcher started to dismantle the NHS, it was evident that the profit culture was going to trump patient care. And if you ever wanted one simple reason why privatisation of the NHS is not only wrong, but truly wicked, Stafford is it.  But again, so long as the fat cats can cream off  large salaries and companies can make their profits, who really gives a shit about one old lady?

   As someone who has eaten horse – with a fine pepper sauce – and enjoyed it, I’m slightly bemused by the angst. Of course it’s sad that the faller in the 2.30 at Lingfield has ended up as a burger. Yes, you should know precisely what’s in what you’re eating. A given. And yes, it’s highly likely that crooks are making money out of the whole fraud. But isn’t it interesting that at least a proportion of our food is so processed and generally fucked about with that people can’t tell the difference between horsemeat and beef?

   And then there’s the ‘fleg’ protest. I regularly pass the Alliance Party office on the Upper N’Ards road, and see five or six fleggistas under the beady eyes of five or six peelers (with associated landrovers). So to ensure the maintenance of a non-existant British way of life we have to take peelers off the job of dealing with criminals, policing traffic, helping little old ladies across the road and whatever Archbishop Baggott allows them to do.  And do these same fleggistas realise that if Norn Iron were to float off into the Atlantic and sink, the noise of the cheers of the ‘real’ British would burst God’s eardrums? Reality has yet to dawn!

 Yus! Reality can really be a two-edged wotdyamacallit or something.

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