This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
By William Shakespeare, a scribbler, born 1564, some 458 years before the Johnson/Truss dynasty. Thus we may forgive him
Not many non-Brits will understand what’s been going on recently in the ironically labelled “mother of parliaments” (ie, The Palace of Westminster). My sympathies. Plenty of Brits are equally ignorant.
To help here’s an analogy.
The officers of a transatlantic liner are arguing about which direction the ship should take; nobody is at the wheel, the liner hits an iceberg, and starts to sink.
Panic ensues. Passengers slide down ropes, others jump and are killed by the impact with the water, lifeboats smash themselves against the ship’s side, it’s clear there aren’t enough lifeboats, on the otherwise deserted deck the group of once arguing officers – hearing the screams and imprecations of the passengers they are responsible for – prepare to leave the ship.
But the engineering officer, pointy-bearded, eyes of a zealot, raises his hand.
“Stop! I have the answer to everything. This ship has been holed by an iceberg. In my pocket I have the design of a ship which cannot be sunk this way. Let us lower the ceremonial barge and make full speed to the shipbuilder’s yard. There we’ll build a new unsinkable boat.”
Overboard comes the gurgle of the last passenger to drown. The captain turns to the other officers. “The EO talks lots of sense. Let’s go.”
Question of priorities, really
Saving their own arses is the priority, while the plebs freeze and queue at the food banks.
ReplyDeleteJean: Said much more concisely than I did.
ReplyDelete