Maybe this isn’t the right time for me to start thinking about asking for a pay rise. After all, I’m doing pretty much fine compared to an overwhelming number of my generation. But, you know, money is nice. For things. Let’s back up for a minute though, this isn’t really about me or the woes of assorted distressed millennials coping with the after effects of a decision they never made with far reaching consequences no one properly expected.
This particular little gem of a scenario comes courtesy of our former Prime Minister. Like many folk in this butt crack of a year, he has sat watching from the side lines with increasingly horror as events unfold. Of course, he’s fairly safe and secure in a lucrative after dinner speech career. Or at least that’s what the satirists have led me to believe.
Matters have progressed to the point where poor old Tony is mad as hell and he’s not going to take it any more. He’s determined to wade right back into politics, seize errant leaders by the scruffs of their necks and shake them until they see some manner of sense. By which he probably means viewing things from his own unique perspective. For sure, he’ll regard this as some brave act of political heroism, others may well see it as unwarranted meddling.
I’m not entirely sure where I come down in terms of this spectrum. Blair swept to power while I was still under five and curiously uninterested in the current political scene. However, I’m relatively sure that once you’ve had your go with the best toys you’re supposed to let the other girls and boys have a turn. Sticking your nose in just because things are descending into the bleak levels of murky effluence storm isn’t completely fair. Plus, he’s having a go at Corbyn so the disgruntled twenty somethings really aren’t going to be happy with the development.