May 12th, 2004

He's Not a Charity, Godammit!

Frank- the door-to-door salesman- delivered some goods last night and I paid him in cash- which was stupid, because it leaves me short. He's a Born-again Christian and a moody bugger, but for some reason I feel bound to keep on buying off him. Maybe it's those big, trusting, spaniel eyes of his.

Elected Dictatorship

Democracy is so damn frustrating. Most of us would like to see the back of Blair and his disgusting cronies, but the job remains his until the next election or until one of his colleagues is brave enough to hold a metaphorical gun to his head or until he graciously decides to stand down. His strategy in Iraq is hated. It's particularly, virulently hated within his own party. Over fifty per cent of the electorate want the troops out now. But Blair carries on regardless. I cringe every time someone speaks about "the British position" on this, that or the other, because it's not the British position; it's Blair's.

It's bizarre how one man can become synonymous with the nation and the rest of us- millions upon millions- are utterly powerless to affect what he chooses to do in our name.