The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Monday, June 12, 2017

Planet Murdoch's Little Green Man

When it comes to wishy-washy so-called problems like keeping the planet habitable, the attitude of the Conservative Party is generally plain enough. They may have passed the Clean Air Act as recently as sixty years ago, and I would be the last to deny my own expenses claimant's regular contributions to the recycling industry; but from the London Haystack's intense relaxation over pleb-killing city air, to the Bullingdon Club's kicking of the solar industry, to Tin-Pot Tessie's benign indulgence of the Trumpster, to her abolition of the relevant ministry and her appointment as Environment Secretary of the gormless Andrea Leadsom, the hints have been about as subtle as one of the Rothermere St├╝rmer's more indignant headlines. Hence it should come as no surprise that, presumably by the will of the deity Rupert Murdoch, the vicar's daughter has recalled to state office the jabbering homunculus that is Michael Gove. As a journalist much praised by other journalists for his formidable intellect and irresistible personal charm, Gove's actual qualifications for the post seem to be mainly the possibility that he is a bit less dim than Leadsom; much as his main qualification for the post of Justice Secretary was being possibly a bit less dim than Chris Graybeing. Whatever else he may be, the jabbering homunculus is clearly not the sort of chap for o'erleaping the high bars; which could lead to some forthright exchanges of views when he tries to persuade Britain's farmers that league tables, hard work and Bibles autographed by himself are a jolly sight more rah-rah than whatever silly old subsidies they used to get from their now gloriously deposed overlords in Strasbourg.

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