Shouting

I don’t even know why I’m writing this.

I just want to drive to a Home Counties village, kick the first door in I see and smash a Tory cunt’s head through their television screen. I want to blow up the Cotswolds. I want to dig Cilla Black up and launch a nuclear missile through her decomposed skull.

60,000 dead. So far. Fuck what you’ve been told by the media. Double the total. It’s about the same as the population of Tunbridge Wells.

Forget dead Cilla. Nuke Tunbridge Wells.

They filled every care home they could with people they knew to be dying and threatened the owners of the care homes with the removal of their funding if they failed to comply. Just to keep the figures down. Most of these people were someone’s grandmother, father, aunt or uncle. All of them were people left to die by a government that has the gall to celebrate the defeat of Nazism whilst carrying out, by stealth, policies that echo the darkest days of the last century.

Having underfunded the NHS in order to let your Bransons pick up the lucrative slack, they sat by and watched as hundreds of doctors, nurses and paramedics died for want of the protective equipment they were promised.

They had the cheek to then bang pans in celebration of the heroic effort made by the NHS.

They said everyone who couldn’t work from home could stay home and have their wages furloughed by the government. And then, when the economy threatened to tank, told people to go back to work. Not you the well-paid middle manager with a laptop and Wi-Fi at home. No, not you. Those minimum wage cattle over there. Not you. Him. Her. Tell them to pack yourselves onto the bus like sheep for slaughter. Catch the virus, please. Die.

They said herd immunity would save more than it would kill. Then panicked, then changed their mind, and denied they ever said it. Instead, and this has always been their way, they introduced a cull by stealth.

Wave after wave, each mightier than the last. That’s how it’ll go. Until a vaccine is found, and who knows how that will be rolled out. My guess is we’ll all be paying a new form of National Insurance on top of everything else for the privilege of not dying. Those of us who can afford it, that is. For people on low wages or none at all, i.e. those people most likely to be unattractive to health care providers, there’ll be an even more pitiful form of healthcare after all this.

In a just world, Boris would already be in prison, awaiting trial. His advisors too. For all of his moronic acolytes claiming they were just doing as they were advised, hear this. They chose the advice they liked best. The advice that didn’t cost them or their moneyed friends anything. Intellectually they fancied using Britain as a petri dish to prove their “survival of the fittest” bollocks on a grander scale.

In everything they talk about, “survival of the fittest” is key. Good for competition, keep the price down, best return for the taxpayer. It never applies to them. Always money to save their own skin, always enough in the pot to ensure they never have to fill it themselves.

Conservatism is all about tapping into a fear that certain people have got something that they weren’t entitled to. The big flat screen telly in the lounge of someone on working tax credits. The cancer treatment of the asylum seeker. The narrative is You Give, They Take. The reality is of course, the other way round. The nurse, the surgeon, the hospital porter are all finding out the extent of the establishment’s generosity now. Just like the soldiers before them. Your country loves you as long as you don’t need proof of that love, evidence of it. Do as You’re Told. Keep Calm and Carry The Fuck On.

The post-war settlement was a blip in the relentless tide of the historical masses being exploited and crushed by the moneyed few. It irked the Tories. Churchill didn’t want an NHS and neither does Johnson. There will be no such settlement this time. Maybe a statue to a fallen nurse on an empty plinth near Whitehall. A couple of meaningless silences. Just gestures, nothing more. This after all is the land that lives for meaningless bluster. And for a country fat with Live Laugh Love bollocks this will be enough. Your house price won’t suffer. We’ll be told that the country just wants to Move On. There will be no inquiry. No one will be held accountable. The Tories will win. Again.

I don’t know why I’m saying this, if you’re reading it this far, you probably agree. I’m just pissing into a hurricane, screaming into an endless fucking void. Watching the leader of a democratic country lie through his teeth day after day about what a great job we’re doing fighting this virus, boasting what a tremendous success it is that only 30,000 people have died so far.

Still, at least Corbyn didn’t get in, eh? What a fucking disaster that would have been.