Saturday, 11 August 2012

Port, biscuits and cheese and the Tory Revolution

This has been a great week for connoisseurs of the contemporary Conservative Party.  It is difficult to know where to start - so the beginning is conventional but probably sensible.

On Monday, Nick the Lapdog bowed to the inevitable and abandoned the cross-party consensus on turning the House of Lords into a slightly-less anachronistic revising chamber.  Labour's scheming and connivance now looks a good tactic, as it has exposed the mendacious lickspittles of the shires as the canting dribblers that they are.  However, Clegg needs to wake up and recognise that whereas he has managed to drag his party through the mill in the name of the Coalition, Cameron and his cronies neither can nor want to do the same thing.  Nothing like exposing human shields for what they are.

Somebody, perhaps, might have kindly reminded Clegg that the only kind of whipping the average Tory backbencher aspires to is well documented in the current sub-literary phenomena of "erotica".  As many Tory backbenchers are as far away from average as ever, this may be redundant.

There have been a number of snarling Tory responses to the refusal of the Liberal Democrats to deliver the pro-Tory rearrangement of constituency boundaries.  To see Hamster-face wrapping himself up in the Chartist banner is risible beyond parody - equalisation of constituency boundaries is a theoretical goal up there with nuclear fusion and the Tory proposals would have made the Republicans in 1990s Texas blush and suggest that the Boundary Commission took lessons from North Korea.

Hamster-face himself has been eclipsed by the publicity-seeking scrote who pretends to be Mayor of London while not making bald bids for the Tory leadership.  Johnson's self-identification with relative British success in the International Sports Day is "just Boris being Boris" but he will come down to earth with a bump when the reality of a triple-dip recession bites later in the year.  In the meantime he will continue to make friends with bankers and others whose probity is matched only by his own.

The imminent Corby by-election marks the end of the bizarre political career of Louise Mensch.  The publicity has been immense without vast expense - admiring and semi-critical broadsheet profiles, the admission of ingestion of industrial quantities of narcotics and the clear assumption that she would walk into a senior Ministerial post have been amusing - but she will be the Widdecombe of our generation rather than the Theresa May in the end.

However, the denouement for the week that caused all intelligent citizens to cringe behind the sofa was a documentary entitled Young, Bright and on the Right.  This followed two "atypical" student Tories through a progress in Oxford and Cambridge student Tory politics - a Hogarthian experience for the Oxford one, whose proletarian background and evident issues resulted in him betraying his victorious rivals to the national press.  The Cambridge example came from a liberal background, but spent his time sucking up to the bloods and plotting greatness through organising catering supplies for Tory parties, doubtless hoping that his Lidl loyalty card did not get discovered - while resembling both Hague and Johnson, leading to speculation that they might have had some encounter in the past that even Mary Shelley would have blanched at.

If the future of the Tory party relies on parodies of the current Bullingdon set, then they are hopefully doomed as evolution passes them by.  However, the immediate priority should be the destruction of the current administration; Clegg has indicated that his party will not be prepared to march into enemy fire in future, and this means that at some stage the Neanderthals will insist on Cameron kicking the Liberals out of government as the price of his leadership.  This can only assist the rebirth of a left politics with a reasonable chance of success - and at some stage I will consider what will be necessary for Labour to assume a vanguard role in the forward march.

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