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prunesquallormdHmm. I appear to be suffering the effects of a major chocolate binge earlier. Slight nausea and growing head and sinus pain. Why don't I know better?
My mood's been a little bit bleugh a little bit meh recently and I think waiting for it to pass so I can post something breezy and bouncey is probably pointless. Hopefully this won't descend too far into whining or bitching.
Andrew Marr's history of modern Britain didn't disappoint this week, but then I genuinely believe that Andrew Marr could present a 7 part documentary on the life and work of Britney Spears and make it worth watching. Of course, it certainly helped that the subject this week was Thatcher and the 80s, which was almost certain to get me throwing things at the TV set.
My first political memory was the 1979 election and my first political opinion - an opinion formed instantly and unthinkingly - was an utter hatred of Margaret Thatcher. I was only 7 years old so the strength of my feeling was, if you divorce it from knowledge of what came after, surprising and without any form of rational basis. Gut instinct, pure and simple. I've worried since that there may have been some misogynistic spark in there, but of course it's impossible to say whether, initially at least, I would have felt differently if she'd been male (I still believe that the reality of the Thatcher decade entirely justified, and still justifies, my feelings)). It's also not particularly relevant. I feel how I feel, and, to a great extent, my attitude to anyone I meet will, if the subject arises, be coloured by their opinion of Margaret Thatcher and her administration.
So, while Marr's conclusion - that, whatever our age, we are all Thatcher's children - galled me in the etreme, I certainly can't refute it. She was an extraordinary, and revolutionary, prime minister. But don't for a moment think that in accepting that fact I hold the slightest admiration or respect for her. She cast Britain into a crucible that did extraordinary damage to the physical wellbeing and psyche of the nation. Her earlier success and popularity was based on luck - the revenues of North Sea oil, the opposition of (in Marr's not entirely unfair description) the 'deluded insurrectionist' Arthur Scargill, the actions of a tinpot South American dictator all being good examples. And with the current celebrations of the end of the Falklands war, it certainly bears repeating the assertion that the conflict was an avoidable and coldly considered political act on the part of Thatcher. The sinking of the Belgrano, whilst ouside the exclusion zone and sailing away from the Falklands, quite clearly emphasises that there was never any intention to seek a diplomatic way out of the situation.
And after all, 655 Argentinian and 255 British lives was a small price to pay for another 8 years in power, right? (Of course, all this pales to nothing when compared to the debacle of Iraq and Afghanistan, but I suppose that's the price you pay for letting ideology take a part in your choice of battles).
And the latter years of the decade? If there was anything in Thatcherite policy that wasn't based on the harnessing of the basest apects of humanity for short term political and economic gain, it would need a far more objective eye than mine to seek it out.
In 12 years of power, the only hint of true emotion I ever saw in her was when she was ousted from office, and the tears she cried that day were for herself.
I could go on, and on. But I'm not a political historian and I don't have the facts at my finger tips to go into a point by point illustration of Why I Hate Margaret Thatcher. But, and I should be ashamed to admit this but I'm not, it has no more to do with facts or logic now than it did when I was 7 years old. It is an irrational, elemental fury and I'm proud to embrace it. I'm very sorry that the assassin's bullet or the terrorist's bomb (and yes, I am talking about the Grand Hotel here) didn't carry her off, but in the absence of more immediate justice, if there is a hell I hope she burns in it. And if wishing that condemns me to join her, then I'd consider it a price worth paying.
But Andrew Marr does rock.
Nothing much of any interest to report. Friday was the annual corporate wank-fest at work. An afternoon of listening to senior management spouting about how great everything is and how 'this is your company'. Standard stuff.
But this year they had the gall to get a motivational speaker in. Now it's possible that he was good at his job. He had the excessive, inappropriate enthusiasm of a children's T.V. presenter coupled with the cloying moralising sincerity of a certain kind of pre-Simpsons American cartoon (He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, anybody?). But I know no-one who'd respond to what amounted to the hyperactive ramblings of a 40 year old child with anything other than contempt. And I watched with mounting disbelief and a desire to stick pins in my eyes. But not before I'd cut the fucker's tongue out and throttled him with it.
Now, I'm not sure what my esteemed employers were intending to achieve, but I have a strong feeling that they may have fallen rather short of the mark.
Oooh. I enjoyed that. There's nothing like a good rant to make you feel better.
Have a good week all.
My mood's been a little bit bleugh a little bit meh recently and I think waiting for it to pass so I can post something breezy and bouncey is probably pointless. Hopefully this won't descend too far into whining or bitching.
Andrew Marr's history of modern Britain didn't disappoint this week, but then I genuinely believe that Andrew Marr could present a 7 part documentary on the life and work of Britney Spears and make it worth watching. Of course, it certainly helped that the subject this week was Thatcher and the 80s, which was almost certain to get me throwing things at the TV set.
My first political memory was the 1979 election and my first political opinion - an opinion formed instantly and unthinkingly - was an utter hatred of Margaret Thatcher. I was only 7 years old so the strength of my feeling was, if you divorce it from knowledge of what came after, surprising and without any form of rational basis. Gut instinct, pure and simple. I've worried since that there may have been some misogynistic spark in there, but of course it's impossible to say whether, initially at least, I would have felt differently if she'd been male (I still believe that the reality of the Thatcher decade entirely justified, and still justifies, my feelings)). It's also not particularly relevant. I feel how I feel, and, to a great extent, my attitude to anyone I meet will, if the subject arises, be coloured by their opinion of Margaret Thatcher and her administration.
So, while Marr's conclusion - that, whatever our age, we are all Thatcher's children - galled me in the etreme, I certainly can't refute it. She was an extraordinary, and revolutionary, prime minister. But don't for a moment think that in accepting that fact I hold the slightest admiration or respect for her. She cast Britain into a crucible that did extraordinary damage to the physical wellbeing and psyche of the nation. Her earlier success and popularity was based on luck - the revenues of North Sea oil, the opposition of (in Marr's not entirely unfair description) the 'deluded insurrectionist' Arthur Scargill, the actions of a tinpot South American dictator all being good examples. And with the current celebrations of the end of the Falklands war, it certainly bears repeating the assertion that the conflict was an avoidable and coldly considered political act on the part of Thatcher. The sinking of the Belgrano, whilst ouside the exclusion zone and sailing away from the Falklands, quite clearly emphasises that there was never any intention to seek a diplomatic way out of the situation.
And after all, 655 Argentinian and 255 British lives was a small price to pay for another 8 years in power, right? (Of course, all this pales to nothing when compared to the debacle of Iraq and Afghanistan, but I suppose that's the price you pay for letting ideology take a part in your choice of battles).
And the latter years of the decade? If there was anything in Thatcherite policy that wasn't based on the harnessing of the basest apects of humanity for short term political and economic gain, it would need a far more objective eye than mine to seek it out.
In 12 years of power, the only hint of true emotion I ever saw in her was when she was ousted from office, and the tears she cried that day were for herself.
I could go on, and on. But I'm not a political historian and I don't have the facts at my finger tips to go into a point by point illustration of Why I Hate Margaret Thatcher. But, and I should be ashamed to admit this but I'm not, it has no more to do with facts or logic now than it did when I was 7 years old. It is an irrational, elemental fury and I'm proud to embrace it. I'm very sorry that the assassin's bullet or the terrorist's bomb (and yes, I am talking about the Grand Hotel here) didn't carry her off, but in the absence of more immediate justice, if there is a hell I hope she burns in it. And if wishing that condemns me to join her, then I'd consider it a price worth paying.
But Andrew Marr does rock.
Nothing much of any interest to report. Friday was the annual corporate wank-fest at work. An afternoon of listening to senior management spouting about how great everything is and how 'this is your company'. Standard stuff.
But this year they had the gall to get a motivational speaker in. Now it's possible that he was good at his job. He had the excessive, inappropriate enthusiasm of a children's T.V. presenter coupled with the cloying moralising sincerity of a certain kind of pre-Simpsons American cartoon (He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, anybody?). But I know no-one who'd respond to what amounted to the hyperactive ramblings of a 40 year old child with anything other than contempt. And I watched with mounting disbelief and a desire to stick pins in my eyes. But not before I'd cut the fucker's tongue out and throttled him with it.
Now, I'm not sure what my esteemed employers were intending to achieve, but I have a strong feeling that they may have fallen rather short of the mark.
Oooh. I enjoyed that. There's nothing like a good rant to make you feel better.
Have a good week all.
