Imagine yourself as a public servant. No, not a civil servant, that smug, indolent and oh-so-protected species, encouraged to 'work from home', to relax in chill-out zones expensively built-in to their 'work environment', obstructing the British people in the name of rules-compliance and homogeneity in all things.
No, I mean one of the 'good' people - the doctors. Aren't they splendid? Is not the health of Britain better than ever? A nation of butchers' dogs, no less. Should we not pay them the earth?
Well, no. They, more than anyone except the quangocrats, gorged themselves upon the public teat during the Blair/Brown Terror, and have become very, very comfortable. With pensions to match. I know, I know, Melanie Phillips is as much fun as a turd in the simming pool, but she is coldly logical and intellectually coherent. I have not a shred of sympathy for well-upholstered public servants going on strike, ever. They should realise their luck.
Compare them to the poor bloody infantry and their corps of support. Loyalty, queen and country, no union reps, no strikes, no bleating on the BBC. But being fooled around with over their pensions. Not good enough. I rate Philip Hammond and I think he'd be eight times better than Boy George as Chancellor, but this is own-goal stuff. Expect the non-combatants of the Labour front bench to wade in.