Thatcher had made her name in British politics when, as Minister for Education, she scrapped the free mini-bottle of milk given to every primary schoolchild each morning. No doubt she felt the kids hadn't earned it and would have sent them down the coal pits if she hadn't already hatched plans to close them; and, after all, those schools cost the state a lot of money too! Who did those socialists think they were, bringing a sense of justness to the world and preventing the fat cats getting fatter?
After graduation, Mrs T out to grass, alongside the cows, udders bloated and sagging, I found it hard, like most people, to find a decent job thanks solely to the Iron Lady’s legacy of a bust economy and huge unemployment, a situation she deemed perfectly acceptable because the bankers were drinking champagne every evening.
At the time I thought that was good enough for me – on your bike, you old bag; put her on the dole and see how she likes it – but the euphoria of the moment clouded the fact that her policies of the previous 13 years were so entrenched, so vice like, the minds of her ‘followers’ so warped towards avarice that the aftershock continues to be felt, much as that earthquake in Iran the other day made the bits and bobs on my desk wobble but destroyed the lives of so many closer to the epicentre.
Greed is now the name of the game, and, in this game, the scum most definitely floats to the top.
The Arab World duly went ballistic and westerners on the streets of Saudi were being shot in retribution. This wasn’t a good time to have a white man in the office, or even the sand, and so I left the region and forfeited a decent job thanks solely to a pillock in power in a far away place.
These fuckers are following me about!
When it was announced that Thatcher’s funeral would cost 10 million pounds of tax-payers money, I shake my head in disbelief, from a non-tax paying distance, and, if I were in the UK, I’d have joined the street party in celebration of her shuffling off this mortal coil, by all accounts in misery - a misery similiar to that which she inflicted on so many millions of others - with only the fires of hell to look forward to.
As they say, these things always come in threes, so hopefully that is it for me, but when I finish my present job, I plan on visiting the USA for an extended period and I wonder what Mr Obama has up his sleeve.