Thursday, 8 April 2010

they talk of little else

or so we are told.  Spot the deliberate mistake:

I must admit I’m really concerned, like many thousands of others, about the big tax issue of the election so far. It has become a clear dividing line between the parties and a matter of concern during the death throws of the House of Commons. There can’t be much doubt that it will hit the least able to pay hardest, is disproportionately targeted at a disadvantaged segment of the population, penalises industry and will affect recovery.  On park benches from Taunton to Truro the talk is of little else.
The above was written by former Labour councillor John Howarth, prop. Public Impact Ltd (remember "Your Better Off With Labour"?).  Yes, he is pretending to be as out of touch with Real Life as he is trying to have us believe the Camerons are.  Cider (for it is this of which he writes) is drunk, not on park benches, because in well-managed parks this is not allowed, but in licensed establishments and homes by a variety of people who, er, like cider.  Elsewhere in his "blog", which astonishingly has been updated several times since last Tuesday, cannot imagine why,  Mr Howarth informs us that the Camerons have the same table he has.  Mr Howarth will be wearing a ring with a coronet on it next.  Once upon a time Jilly Cooper wrote rather a good book about the English class system, which Mr Howarth would do well to read despite the passage of time since its publication.  Where was I?  Ah yes, cider.  I am at present on holiday in Brittany (Saint-Malo since you press me to be more specific) where cider is enthusiastically consumed by people of (almost) all ages.  My two-year-old granddaughter, who is with us this week, will not be having any, but I shall, despite an unfortunate incident when I was 15 which involved the consumption of inordinate quantities of Woodpecker (slogan of the time, "Yes I would", so let us draw a veil).

But what's that you say?  Ah, I see.  You thought the deliberate mistake was the reference in the piece to "death throws" which of course is a mistake which renders the sentence it includes both meaningless and laughable.  No, that wasn"t a deliberate mistake.  It is a form of mental illness.  He can"t do a thing, in this case write in English, so he keeps on and on doing it, never asking a literate person to help, and driving himself deepr into a spiral of madness and despair.  Does the heart good really.

And this is the man responsible for Labour literature in Readings East and West.  Poor Anneliese.  Poor Naz. 

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