It's election time in the UK and all the fun of the (un)fair!
Except this is the flattest election in the flattest of times, there's an air of surreality covering the country. Some unfortunates have been driven so mad they've supported even the most caricatured of frogs and other cold blooded animals in a far-rage of insanity.
The very air has near solidified, people push through it to make their way home from a hard days shopping at the food bank. The sick and infirm lie on the pavements where they fall, waiting for death; too ill and exhausted to move from the spot except where the few remaining councils workers have visited to push them into the gutters to keep everyone else moving. Best leave 'em there to discourage others from considering illness as a way out, like the French leave burnt out car wrecks at the bottom of ravines to improve peoples driving skills.
As the country crumbles under it's weight of crimes against humanity, it's humanity forgives itself yet again, and votes for more of the same - who really did say insanity is trying the same failure repeatedly in the hope it'll work eventually?
We get the government we deserve in this god forsaken place.
Surely it's a sign of our ultimate disgrace?
So many had it worse and yet they made the best of things.
In good old blighty we're less sprightly, coveting our Kings.
An empire contracted into eating itself for sustenance. All that social investment now harvested for profit leaving a hollow and empty echo. I hope all those deciding whether their kids should eat tonight or tomorrow instead, are relieved to know we're one of the richest countries in the world! Thank goodness! That's enough to satify the greatest of hunger on it's own. Let them eat cake. Like any rigidly brittle glass vessel under vacuum, it's only going to take a small hard tap on the side, and those cracks will spread right round the whole thing, and it'll crush itself under the weight of it's opprobrium. Is the science of exploitation our greatest gift to mankind?
The mad doctor in Number 10 snaps at the nurse and anaesthetist to leave him alone with the patient, currently convulsing on the cabinet table. Making another incision with a second hand blunt scalpel, muttering fiscal policy under his breath like a mendicant's chant, he reaches in and pulls another organ out of the way, throwing it over his shoulder to hear the wet 'schlupp' as hits the wall behind him and slides down to meet the pile of previously discarded and now useless collection of bodily functions.
"Gawddamnit we need simpler electorate! Surely most of these things can't really be needed? A stomach only makes for hunger and consumption, a bowel only means having to pump more sewage into the rivers and seas, we can do without those! Why keep the liver when processed food has enough sugar in it? And brains? When have they helped? And it's not like they were being used anyway!"
Well, this one's looking better already; he call's back the nurse to sew it up, and decides to sack the anaesthetist, he wasn't much use anyway the doc thinks, as he uses the last of the Propofol on himself and calls for the next patient. The NHS is safe in his hands!
The opposition gather like vultures in Downing street and wait for the next of the doc's latest cadavers, licking lips with greed.
"Our turn soon" they mutter.
Except this is the flattest election in the flattest of times, there's an air of surreality covering the country. Some unfortunates have been driven so mad they've supported even the most caricatured of frogs and other cold blooded animals in a far-rage of insanity.
The very air has near solidified, people push through it to make their way home from a hard days shopping at the food bank. The sick and infirm lie on the pavements where they fall, waiting for death; too ill and exhausted to move from the spot except where the few remaining councils workers have visited to push them into the gutters to keep everyone else moving. Best leave 'em there to discourage others from considering illness as a way out, like the French leave burnt out car wrecks at the bottom of ravines to improve peoples driving skills.
As the country crumbles under it's weight of crimes against humanity, it's humanity forgives itself yet again, and votes for more of the same - who really did say insanity is trying the same failure repeatedly in the hope it'll work eventually?
We get the government we deserve in this god forsaken place.
Surely it's a sign of our ultimate disgrace?
So many had it worse and yet they made the best of things.
In good old blighty we're less sprightly, coveting our Kings.
An empire contracted into eating itself for sustenance. All that social investment now harvested for profit leaving a hollow and empty echo. I hope all those deciding whether their kids should eat tonight or tomorrow instead, are relieved to know we're one of the richest countries in the world! Thank goodness! That's enough to satify the greatest of hunger on it's own. Let them eat cake. Like any rigidly brittle glass vessel under vacuum, it's only going to take a small hard tap on the side, and those cracks will spread right round the whole thing, and it'll crush itself under the weight of it's opprobrium. Is the science of exploitation our greatest gift to mankind?
The mad doctor in Number 10 snaps at the nurse and anaesthetist to leave him alone with the patient, currently convulsing on the cabinet table. Making another incision with a second hand blunt scalpel, muttering fiscal policy under his breath like a mendicant's chant, he reaches in and pulls another organ out of the way, throwing it over his shoulder to hear the wet 'schlupp' as hits the wall behind him and slides down to meet the pile of previously discarded and now useless collection of bodily functions.
"Gawddamnit we need simpler electorate! Surely most of these things can't really be needed? A stomach only makes for hunger and consumption, a bowel only means having to pump more sewage into the rivers and seas, we can do without those! Why keep the liver when processed food has enough sugar in it? And brains? When have they helped? And it's not like they were being used anyway!"
Well, this one's looking better already; he call's back the nurse to sew it up, and decides to sack the anaesthetist, he wasn't much use anyway the doc thinks, as he uses the last of the Propofol on himself and calls for the next patient. The NHS is safe in his hands!
The opposition gather like vultures in Downing street and wait for the next of the doc's latest cadavers, licking lips with greed.
"Our turn soon" they mutter.
