What just happened? Trump, Brexit, pandora’s box prised open and about the only thing left, right and centre can agree on is how it’s all the foreigners’ fault, or the ‘elites’ (who strangely enough never include expensively educated stockbroker types like Farage or Bullingdon and Old Etonian stalwart, Boris.) craft, n. cunning: artifice: dexterity.
It’s all very mysterious, though not in a good way. Rudderless, clueless, every other person braying along like Brian’s unwanted followers, ‘we’re all individuals’, except for the brave soul who cries, ‘I’m not!’. It’s as though Smiley, Saxon Studio, The Specials, the last forty years had never happened. Lewisham, Southall, Brixton. As though ‘we’ hadn’t happened. Maybe we hadn’t. Perhaps we’ve been kidding ourselves all along. Something in the water perchance? In the ‘drink’, all those fellas with ‘moobs’ where the oestrogen count’s gone a bit mental. It’s down to the packaging apparently though my mate, T________ blames the foreigners. Says it’s all a plan cooked up behind closed doors to bring a once proud, seafaring race to its knees. I can’t see it myself but then again i’m probably a bit suspect myself. Can’t trace my family back to the Normans, though increasingly what I see around me is a lot of Tobys claiming they can. Still, when it all gets a bit much, there’s always cats on the internet. Or Bob to take away our biped blues. Plenty for us to learn from a more advanced clan. Like Bowie (more or less) said,
It feels as though we’ve been sold down the river, not a hot spring in sight, left scrabbling around pondering the sage advice once given to King Lear: ‘Reserve thy state, and in thy best consideration check this hideous rashness.’
Then again he chose to ignore the advice, and look how well that turned out.