Monday, 15 June 2009

David and Goliath, George and the Dragon

David doesn't want to take on Goliath, and George is being a bit wet about mounting his horse and taking his lance in hand to deal with that pesky dragon.
But Andrew went on the Today programme and was refreshingly honest / unwittingly candid / a bonehead (pick any one from three), and blurted out some home truths about spending. The cat, if it was a cat, was let out of the bag, had it ever been in one. What it did, however, was to let Ed start frothing about CUTS!! (always, in labourspeak, said loudly in capital letters and followed by exclamation marks).
I'm all for them, of course. I have always considered most government spending to be, logically, half as efficient as private spending, and the more of the latter we can do, at the expense of the former, the better. Small efficient government is a worthy ambition not just in the current circumstances, but all circumstances.
So George had to say something. And he has. There will be commentary about truthfulness and bravery, all of which will be guff. Any conservative worth his salt should always be able to articulate this argument, and should not be overly sensitive about his timing.
All this new found good sense comes with a catch, of course. Or two catches, much the bigger of which is the NHS (the smaller being Overseas Aid, or Post Empire White Guilt - a topic for another day). It seems as though we should look forward, at least for the next six years, to an even bigger NHS, consuming yet more money, employing yet more people. There will be suggestions that the middlest of the middle managers might be downsized, or shed, like so much cellulite as the patient's fitness regime takes hold. I doubt it. I would say that we need to have a debate about this, but of course it will result in the Holy Cow remaining Holy. Holier, even, than thou.
So what should happen instead is that the Tories must kick the habit, and do the hard work of coming up with a sensible alternative to our current arrangements. It may be ironic that it could happen at the same time that Obama is motoring towards the British Solution, with all the expense and socialism which is implied, but so be it.
Mark Steyn, a man who would have an opinion on the breeding of goldfinches in Slovenia, if you asked him, certainly can get a head of steam up over something like this, and here he goes:
When President Barack Obama tells you he's "reforming" health care to "control costs," the point to remember is that the only way to "control costs" in health care is to have less of it. In a government system, the doctor, the nurse, the janitor and the Assistant Deputy Associate Director of Cost-Control System Management all have to be paid every Friday, so the sole means of "controlling costs" is to restrict the patient's access to treatment. In the Province of Quebec, patients with severe incontinence – i.e., they're in the bathroom 12 times a night – wait three years for a simple 30-minute procedure. True, Quebeckers have a year or two on Americans in the life expectancy hit parade, but, if you're making 12 trips a night to the john 365 times a year for three years, in terms of life-spent-outside-the-bathroom expectancy, an uninsured Vermonter may actually come out ahead.
I get a lot of mail each week arguing that, when folks see the price tag attached to Obama's plans, they'll get angry. Maybe. But, if Europe's a guide, at least as many people will retreat into apathy. Once big government's in place, it's very hard to go back.
Here's the whole thing. I'm afraid that he, like me, is short of a sensible alternative immediately to hand, and just wants to vent his spleen, but hey, that's blogging.

Sunday, 14 June 2009

Winning the Argument

It is axiomatic that our great universities reviled Margaret Thatcher, both during and after her years in power, whatever the public may have thought, and despite how the public voted.

On the one hand, all those left-liberal dons, brought up in an age of austerity, fascinated by communism, contemptuous of those who would champion the liberty and self-determination of the common (uneducated) man.

On the other hand, all those late 70s and 80s students, listening to the Pistols, the Clash and the Cure, and embracing the New Romance of Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran at the same time as ploughing their way through the Old Romance of Blake and Wordsworth, Shelley and Keats. Hardly the sort of folk who would be natural children of the Thatcher Revolution.

As a result of which, the sainted Margaret was shunned by Oxbridge. Every time a fan (there were plenty, in truth) tried to get his or her college or university to acknowledge and honour her, she would be defeated in the vote, and it always made the newspapers - I suppose the dons made sure it did, so as to boast another badge of honour.

BUT WAIT! Is it that time heals, or is it that the awful realisation has dawned upon them that the sunlit socialist uplands they dreamed of have turned out to be barren, overcast, and unfriendly? Or is it that Dan the Man Hannan, held in such high esteem by this blog for his oratory and advocacy, has convinced them otherwise?

Whichever, the Oxford Union has decided that Margaret Thatcher Saved Britain, albeit by the slenderest of margins. It was Dan Wot Won It. Rejoice!

Saturday, 13 June 2009

Sir Francisco Scaramanga

Knight of the realm, Sir Christopher Lee.

Hear, hear, says I.

You never saw a harder-working actor. See his imdb page for the full astonishing list. The old boy is nearing 90 and has got at least half a dozen films still to hit the screen, in various stages of production.

We went to the same school, albeit 40 years apart. He hated it, apparently, but they managed to coax him back last year to award a prize and prove to him that even military-style public schools such as ours have now turned into country clubs with every known comfort and facility. No wonder they cost £30 grand a child each year.

Friday, 12 June 2009

Busy Being Idle

It's all go. A terrific day's golf at St George's Hill yesterday was followed by a a fine dinner party in London and a 3am bedtime; today was the first cricket net of the season, which is always most satisfying - I tend to pad up, get in the net early, and refuse to come out 'until I've found a bit of form', and then drink beer and fail to do any bowling at the others, because, happily, everyone turned up with their sons who will gladly bowl all evening for a can of ginger beer and a packet of wotsits.
Friday - Lord's, for the Dumbslog Millionaire cricket which is 20Twenty. Luckily no England, who are very bad at it. Instead, Pakistan vs Sri Lanka followed by India vs West Indies. And a picnic tea that would make an Edwardian queasy. June is a joy.
We won't see a bowler of the standard of the great Michael Holding (left), but neither will we see such petulance, I trust.

Wednesday, 10 June 2009

Ask The Ones Who Voted BNP

The post-mortem on the two BNP MEPs' success, and the access they now have to great pools of taxpayers' cash (the Telegraph suggested £4m over the four-year period of this EU parliament) threatens to become the main source of liberal angst for the time being. No bad thing, as the man-made global warming guff is sooooo yesterday (or tomorrow, or next year, or 2020).
Me? I think it's a good thing, on balance. This is not because I am a racist or a Hitler admirer or a xenophobe. It is because the endless triangulation of policy by the three main parties had led us into a cul-de-sac of effete liberal consensus on immigration and multi culturalism. This was an airless place in need of a damn good blast of fresh air. I hesitate to suggest that the rank mixture of BO and Lynx anti-perspirant from Griffin and his mates is fresh air, but it will have the same effect.
The left's response has been completely predictable, with a bunch calling themselves the UAF hitting the media sofas and emoting about the potential "normalisation" of the BNP in British politics. There will be a great deal of airtime gobbled up by Sonia Earnest asking Gregory Angst about the reasons for this, and vice versa.
Waste of time. What they need to do is to undertake the difficult, unpleasant, and potentially dangerous task of interviewing the many thousands of people who voted BNP, and find out why. Some, doubtless, will be Nazis, like the charming man above (thanks for the pic, Thud). Others will be flippant protest-voters. Still more will be anarchists.
But the majority, I estimate, will be standard British salt-of-the-earth: in other words, mildly racist, but not offensively so; champions of British-is-Best, even if a lot of it is pants; buggered if they understand why economic migrants get away with this asylum racket, and get all those flats and houses and healthcare and benefits and, unsatisfied with that, want to be productive and take our bloody jobs as well! Normal British working class, in other words. No wonder the middle class politician hasn't a clue about them.
New Labour is trying to find out what went wrong on Thursday, and soon the penny will drop that it was THEIR splendid ex-voters who trooped into the BNP lobby. Of course there will be a few far-right folk in there as well, but any analysis of BNP policy will tell you that it is designed for racist socialists.
So let's find out what the hopes and fears of the 1 million people who voted BNP really are, and see if we want to address them. If you don't ask them, you run the risk of getting your information from Nick Griffin and his Lieutenants, which is not advisable if you seek the truth.
Wannabe polemicist James Delingpole, who is a bit hit-and-miss, is mostly 'hit' with his blog on this. And amusing about the achingly centrist types who have dominated the thought process of our main parties for too long.

Tuesday, 9 June 2009

Bandit at Six O'Clock

Gotta love that fighter pilot humour. Splendid chaps.

Let Me Rephrase That....

Sorry, I got it completely wrong. McBust IS the man to take us through the next 12 months. I don't know how I assumed otherwise. He is terrific, a man for all seasons, a tower of strength and an intellect beyond compare. His courage and fortitude is an inspiration to us all and the rest of the political cast is just so much chopped liver compared to the Great One. Oy vey!

There were no cameras or recorders in the PLP meeting, so thank heavens for Ben Dover-Bradshaw (Lab, Lickspittle North), who told us that the cyclopian doomster had given "the speech of a lifetime".

Phew! And there was I, thinking that he was a lame duck, a Clyde tugboat holed beneath the waterline, a defaulted bond, a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest.

Onwards, comrades! We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Deep-fried mars bars all round!