My Inner Badness
My intentions are generally good. I hope so, anyway. I hate all cruelty, in particular, I just can't bear it. In general I think the best of everyone until they prove me wrong and if that makes me a bit gullible sometimes - - well, I'd rather be thought gullible than whatever the opposite of it is.
However, from time to time something happens that gives me a secret glow of pleasure - - and it's something BAD, and I know it's WRONG, but I just can't help it.
One of these was when Margaret Thatcher was forced out of office. You may remember that she was Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland for about six decades of my youth.
When she was forced out of office, the Iron Lady shed a tear. Normally I am moved when people cry. In this case I was moved to a secret glow of pleasure. Why? Because, d'you know what, I think she just didn't care about any of us really, and I didn't like her "no such thing as society" politics and if that makes me politically naive, d'you know what, I don't care. I'm not religious and hence I think being kind to each other and caring about each other is what it's all about.
After she'd gone from power I read a little verse, which was printed in some newspaper, and I enjoyed that too.
She milked the many
She fed the few
And now she's gone
And about time too.
The "milk" reference in case you are too young to remember, is because when I was in the first year of secondary school she stopped us getting a third of a pint of milk every day at school, and hence acquired the title "Margaret Thatcher, Milk Snatcher". - - - Goodness, I feel old having to explain all this.
Anyway, I digress, because this post wasn't supposed to be about Margaret Thatcher, and I don't do party politics, even though my Dad was a Communist. This post was supposed to be about Fred Goodwin. Again. Remember him? He was the boss of the Royal Bank of Scotland which had to be propped up with firstly twenty billion quid of public money, and then another thirteen billion.
Of course if I'd screwed up on even a tenth of this scale, I'd be in jail, but because he was the boss of a wunch of bankers, he was rewarded with a pension of seven hundred thousand pounds a year.
Quite a lot of people are quite cross about this, including, as a matter of fact, me. And now some of them have vandalised his two million pound house. Not that he was in it at the time, he was living elsewhere, presumably in a caravan or something. He's obviously short of money since they asked him if he wouldn't mind giving back some of the seven hundred grand a year and he replied with a cheery "No, get lost" or similar.
Now, in general I hate vandalism nearly - though not quite - as much as I hate cruelty. But in this case, d'you know, I'm prepared to make an exception. SECRET GLOW OF PLEASURE. Bad, bad Daphne.
However, from time to time something happens that gives me a secret glow of pleasure - - and it's something BAD, and I know it's WRONG, but I just can't help it.
One of these was when Margaret Thatcher was forced out of office. You may remember that she was Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland for about six decades of my youth.
When she was forced out of office, the Iron Lady shed a tear. Normally I am moved when people cry. In this case I was moved to a secret glow of pleasure. Why? Because, d'you know what, I think she just didn't care about any of us really, and I didn't like her "no such thing as society" politics and if that makes me politically naive, d'you know what, I don't care. I'm not religious and hence I think being kind to each other and caring about each other is what it's all about.
After she'd gone from power I read a little verse, which was printed in some newspaper, and I enjoyed that too.
She milked the many
She fed the few
And now she's gone
And about time too.
The "milk" reference in case you are too young to remember, is because when I was in the first year of secondary school she stopped us getting a third of a pint of milk every day at school, and hence acquired the title "Margaret Thatcher, Milk Snatcher". - - - Goodness, I feel old having to explain all this.
Anyway, I digress, because this post wasn't supposed to be about Margaret Thatcher, and I don't do party politics, even though my Dad was a Communist. This post was supposed to be about Fred Goodwin. Again. Remember him? He was the boss of the Royal Bank of Scotland which had to be propped up with firstly twenty billion quid of public money, and then another thirteen billion.
Of course if I'd screwed up on even a tenth of this scale, I'd be in jail, but because he was the boss of a wunch of bankers, he was rewarded with a pension of seven hundred thousand pounds a year.
Quite a lot of people are quite cross about this, including, as a matter of fact, me. And now some of them have vandalised his two million pound house. Not that he was in it at the time, he was living elsewhere, presumably in a caravan or something. He's obviously short of money since they asked him if he wouldn't mind giving back some of the seven hundred grand a year and he replied with a cheery "No, get lost" or similar.
Now, in general I hate vandalism nearly - though not quite - as much as I hate cruelty. But in this case, d'you know, I'm prepared to make an exception. SECRET GLOW OF PLEASURE. Bad, bad Daphne.
posted by Daphne at 6:47 pm
4 Comments:
I've never heard a good thing about Thatcher either I did once hear her called something I found rather amusing but I won't swear on your blog, and besides I came from a mining town so no one I grew up with had anything good to say about her.
as for Fred Goodwin his house could burn down and I would throw a party, there are a LOT of bankers who in my oppinion need to go to jail, never mind get a £700,000 pension.
XxX
A wunch of bankers. Love it. I hope this Daffy urban speak will make it's way into the next version of the Oxford English.
Hear, hear for "a wunch of bankers"!
Thanks for popping over to Paris to comment on my blog. I've just been having a nose around yours; I'll be back.
I still think of Leeds with great affection even though I left when I was 10. (I went to Leeds Boys Junior Grammar School).
Oh you awful person! :) *Joke*!
Did you see the 'Margaret' drama on BBC the other day? Was either bbc2 or bb4. Was vvvvv good. Westminster, especially then, was such a male-dominated bastion of chauvinism - it still amazes me that she rose to the top of the pyramid.
If it required ruthlessness on her part - the men respected her the more for it (my pet theory). If she'd shown weakness she would have been decimated (hence 'the Iron Lady').
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