Supersize My Biff
I had a..sorry, they’ve changed the font you use to type a blog and it’s throwing me: it used to be Times New Roman but now it’s Arial, or something very similar. I need to reign this in here, I don’t know why this is affecting me – I prefer a sans-serif font. As a reader you’re lucky – you’ve never had the serif, you get Tahoma on the blog itself. Sorry, I’ve just lost my train of – this was meant to be about having McDonalds for..and for lunch. Breakfast. Lunch and breakfast. Maybe throw in a Supersize Me/Morgan Spurlock reference. And talk about the decision to have the lunch after you’ve had the breakfast as though it’s really something monumental – especially when the alternative was a chip naan from a kebab shop. But it’s just gone to – it’s gone. I think, the essence of it, the information, got through. But in this clumsy paragraph.
Talking Out of His Horse
If it can make him look bad/worse, then I am all for people attacking David Cameron’s riding of a retired police horse that was being rented by News International bastard Rebekah Brooks. There is something bitter-sweet about seeing Cameron cloyingly admit that he had ridden a horse – but specifically not while he was Prime Minister, as though how one should treat a retired horse somehow depends on your level of political office – when he and his reich are dismantling the foundations of society with wilful disdain. If you will pardon the obvious simile it is almost as though Britain is a horse and he is prepared to risk snapping the vital backbone of welfare and healthcare by riding on it’s back (making money) like a big, fat posh bastard sucking the life out of it until it has gone lame (unfortunately the lameness gets cloudy as a metaphor as there are countless people practically immobilized by their health issues who are no longer deemed worthy of state support – which is very real AND part of the lame/disabled metaphor as well).
Just to be clear: I am suggesting David Cameron is beating a horse to death with a massive cricket bat and claiming it is for the horse’s own good. I feel I should point out that I am again referring to a horse as a metaphor, though given his recent revelations on horse welfare, who knows? I think as a country we should offer Cameron ill horses to beat to death – if this is what he wants so very badly – to beat helpless senile horses to death with a cricket bat then we should let him have a certain number per year to beat as he sees fit. It can form part of the package society seems to be putting together to tempt Cameron to abdicate. A Smiths reunion, nine horses a year to kill in a beating style of his own choosing and a promise that he will never be treated by an NHS employee ever again: is this not the start of an attractive package we could put to his fucking horrible face.
“Not enough horses”
“Come on David – how many horses can you beat to death with a cricket bat?”
“Are you challenging me? They ruddy did that at college and I did five before elevenses. When we ran out of horses I did some cows while we waited on more horses being transported. I can kill defenceless horses all day” (allegedly)
“Well can we negotiate on this? How about you just stop tearing apart the NHS and we turn a blind eye to the odd horse every now and then?”
“I can not be bought with a few horses, I am fucking well smashing the fucking NHS up. Smashing it to bits – you hear me? I want more money. My friends want more money.”
“But people are sick and dying….”
“Exactly. A captive audience. Perfect business model”
“But the money…we can survive without the money..why don’t we use the money being put aside to make the high-speed trains between Manchester and London? We could just all agree that saving 20 minutes on a two-hour journey isn’t THAT important and use all that money to buy new arms, pay nurses and clean syringes?…..Mr Cameron..Mr Cameron..how did you get a horse in here? Why are you…don’t do that..now look what you’ve done..you’ve killed another fucking horse…don’t run away….CLEAN THIS MESS UP – you shit.”
[fade to black]