Crying out…

My joy’s a bit muddled by sorrow, you see. Those tears of happiness well up when I witness the brave British rescue services pulling drowning asylum seekers to safety, all the while defying the reckless government’s orders.

It’s wise to teach your child what a fool looks like.

I’d like to declare this isn’t a war, but this skirmish has raged on since one human first fashioned a sharper stone. It might have meant something then, but billionaires flaunting their yachts is nothing more than a spectacle.

The world’s ablaze, and they revel in their contributions to its ruin. Bravo, I’m certain this won’t end disastrously for anyone.

So, where’s my happiness?

It’s tough to find much joy amidst cruelty, the violation of human rights, a bumbling and arrogant government, and the complete neglect that the privatized public service sector has foisted upon us in the name of repair.

Thatcher was off the mark economically; this privatization experiment has proven to be a dud. Everything the Tories have championed throughout my life now stands exposed as a fiasco.

Giant corporations trump the common good. Only those already flush with cash enjoy an automatic leg up over the rest, leading to the monopolization of vital public services.

It’s straightforward, really. Don’t buy back the privatized industries; simply establish a state-owned entity that gets preferential treatment by law. Then, as the privatized outfits decline, repurchase their assets at knockdown prices. Who knows it may take out a tory or two from the rich list.

Doesn’t sit well with those big businesses, does it? Shed a tear for the private companies that borrowed money to pad their shareholders’ pockets. Wail for those CEOs and their million-pound bonuses, raises that outpace inflation. Spare me the sympathy; this is surely criminal, if not, then why not?

I’d love for this message to reach Labour. I know they won’t craft a flawless society, but it’s got to be better than this gang of privately educated fannies.