Ask not for whom the bell tolls

10 Apr

I remember the late seventies in Britain.  It was hell.  Rubbish was being piled high in streets and parks. Strike after strike, inflation rates soaring, pay rises being capped,  the dead left unburied.  Just about mile away from my home the dead were being stacked up in their coffins because the gravediggers wanted more money.  The local director of public health even suggested that if the strike were prolonged they may have to consider burial at sea for the departed.  The whole country was in despair.

Something had to give.  The electorate decided to vote in Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Party. (Ain’t democracy a bitch?) She made mistakes, the poll tax for one, deregulation of the banks another.  Then there was the miners strike.

Here in Liverpool we had Militant in charge of the council.  Derek Hatton railed about Thatcher having only 25% of the vote, completely ignoring the fact that Militant only had a similar percentage from the Liverpool electorate. That’s what I hate about politicians, they only point the finger at others, forgetting that there are three more fingers pointing back at themselves.  I remember the local elections and mobs of canvassers knocking on doors asking us to vote Militant.  I remember you couldn’t take your kids to school without being accosted by union men waiting outside the gates,  wanting you to sign this or attend that meeting.  They even put a 23 year old in charge of the Education Committee, who when speaking to parents at a ‘consultative’ meeting on school mergers, could barely string enough words together to form a coherent sentence.  I actually felt sorry for him when he was greeted by guffaws over one part of his mangled grammar.  But at the same time thinking that if this was the level of people in charge of our childrens’ education, we were in trouble.

Derek Hatton boasted about the new council houses his administration had built, but failed to mention the thousands of empty council houses around the city that had been left empty, rotting away.  Later, many of those properties had to be demolished leaving gaping holes along rows of houses.  Not to forget, he borrowed the money for those new houses, leaving us, the taxpayers in debt to Japanese banks.

I never voted for Maggie or for Hatton and Militant.  I, like many of my fellow Liverpudlians were just the meat in the sandwich, chewed on by both sides.

So now Maggie is dead and we are shown sickeningly distasteful sights of people celebrating the death of an old, frail woman.  She left power 23 years ago.  Some say they are making a statement about her policies.  I say, you’re 23 years too late.  No, those celebrations were personal.  If her decisions were so bad (and I think many of them were) why didn’t subsequent Labour governments undo all that she did?  But no, they didn’t just leave them alone, they built on them, expanded them to the further detriment of the people.  Champagne socialists all, in my opinion.  They don’t really care about the people, they care about the power and influence they can gain from the political machine.  Or, given recent revelations, some of them are blackmailed into toeing the line of their masters. (Research Elm Tree Guest House and go on from there.)  Why?  Because when it all comes down to it, on the whole, politicians of every party answer to the same masters, the criminal, globalist banksters.  Democracy is a cruel hoax and will remain so until people wake up to the false left/right paradigm. In my humble opinion, of course.

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