PM’s Election Guru Kept in the Dark

They’ve gone hard on this concept for this election. Theresa is hardly the sort to indulge in a film of the science fiction persuasion especially often. She’s a lot keener to project the image of a strong and stable fan of British period dramas. These are the only publicly acceptable thing for her to enjoy (although, behind closed doors and rooms darkened by shuttered curtains, she has been known to voraciously devour a political boxset. Frank Underwood is pretty much her idol). However, she simply could not get the main plot conceit of Minority Report out of her head.

It was this, rather than a fit of madness or sheer incandescent rage, that lead the Prime Minister to lock a few trusted spin doctors and politics advisors in a darkened room. Therein was to be found a paddling pool filled not quite to the brim with a totally not horror inducing milky liquid. She was trying her very best to create her own pre-cogs.

With their amazing abilities to predict that which is yet to pass, Theresa literally couldn’t fail. She’d be able to outfox all those who would even think to attempt to oppose her. It would be the ultimate act of hand strengthening and there isn’t even any legislation out there against it. It would be the perfect way of proving that the party is moving gracefully and unstoppably into the twenty first century and then some. But she’s not allowing any futuristic sensibilities to run away with her. She’ll just be depending on psychic abilities to maintain a stranglehold on the country.

There’s no need to be scared. Sure, a few of the incarcerated advisors succumbed to insanity and then a very nasty cold from being submerged in water but that doesn’t mean hers isn’t a benevolent and excellent plan. The election guru will eventually be released once Theresa has been coronated as Empress. A similar title will prove acceptable.

 

Fury Over Dementia Tax

Fine, I am incredibly impressionable. I may well have my previous prejudices but I like to pride myself on being sufficiently liberal that changing my mind on stuff isn’t above me. I’d hate to be accused of being woefully entrenched. Given that I’m already convinced that the Tories are going to sweep this election (I’m not happy about it but that’s a separate issue) I was more than prepared to find good stuff in their manifesto.

But then Theresa went off on one of social media (I think Donald Trump rubbed off on her in a move I’m already regretting mentioning because it’s incredibly icky. Anyway, random Twitter rants worked well for him so the Prime Minister took to the internet, this time Facebook because her rambling eloquence couldn’t be contained to 140 characters). Her post was riddled with lies, narcissism and many an undignified attack on her political rivals. One might easily forget amongst her complaints that she’s the one who actually called this election she’s suddenly worried about losing.

Guess what? Now I’m ever so slightly less on side with their manifesto. While I appreciate that it’s difficult to lay out every single costing the future might bring especially as taxes are dependent on the economy you’re trying to prop up, at least Labour had a go at explaining how they’re going to pay for stuff. The government haven’t.

So we’ve worked our way round to the issue of paying for social care in your old age. It’s something quite a few of us (yes, I’m lumping us all in together, don’t you feel the warm glow of the big society? It’s almost, but definitely not quite, sickening) worry about. Don’t worry, the Conservatives have your back. Along with all your assets down to that last hundred thousand pounds. Think of all the iPhones your children can buy with that rather than that house they’ve been waiting all their adult lives for the chance to get themselves heavily in debt to buy.

Scottish to Keep Alzheimer’s Cure

It turns out that the government is surprisingly on side to keep our cousins north of the border on board with whole ‘united’ kingdom thing. You’d think that a Tory majority would be more than prepared to wave goodbye to those above the ceremonial line that Hadrian spent so much time putting together. That way they’d increase Theresa’s already over-mighty hand and it would take something supernatural or possibly even downright shady to oust them.

But, for whatever reason, possibly because of the optics of being the one overseeing our departure from Europe as well as the disintegration of our little commune of nations would be downright unfortunate, they’re determined to keep the Scots with us. Which is the precise reason why those in charge have been casting around for incentives in order to preserve the union. You know, like a marriage where one of the partners can’t quite admit to themselves that it’s definitely over so try and come up with cherries for the top of the sundae no one particularly wants to dig into.

Now that the oil’s gone and they already have free tuition fees and that, some extraordinary measures had to be taken. It made perfect sense to delve into the realms of the pharmaceutical. The tight lipped scientists haven’t quite yet cracked the tricky nut of a universal cure for cancer. They were however a gnat’s chuff away from a viable alleviation for the ravages of Alzheimer’s.

So, in the age old way of tit for tat, it was determined that this couldn’t possibly be rolled out to the masses. It had to be levied for material advantage. Well, I don’t need to tell you how capitalism works, especially when currencies the world round have this unnerving tendency to rise and fall in line with current events. A dementia cure is always going to be valuable and mustn’t be wasted.

May Way to Labour Heartlands

Fine, I’m not too biased and thoroughly partisan to admit it, there’s stuff I can actually get behind in the Tory manifesto. Don’t get your knickers in an almighty twist, I’m still not going to vote that way (not that it’ll make a blind bit of difference in my local constituency but I just feel it’s worth shouting from the rooftops as often and as loudly as possible). However, I’m not above admitting when I think something might be a goodish idea.

However, it’s also worth remembering that I really don’t know much about anything and just because I reckon something sounds halfway decent doesn’t mean that it won’t have long lasting and downright terrible consequences. Like means testing the winter fuel allowance, where do you set the threshold, what if people are put off claiming it because of the hassle? Then again, they’re taking away free school meals and threatening to go crazy with internet regulations so it’s definitely not all going to be a socialist paradise under a blue government.

But Theresa’s determined to strengthen her hand (not to be rampantly sexist or anything but if she was a boy she’d know from her teens that there’s another way you can strengthen your hand from the comfort of your very own bedroom). She wants to entice Labour voters away from the revolutionary Corbyn. She’s going after the folk who voted Brexit. That’s why the immigration pledges have stood even though they’re frankly unattainable. Even though the referendum wasn’t to do with immigration. Oh no.

Wait a couple more weeks and you’ll see her don a jaunty miner’s cap, spending a lot more time outside the south east with the commoners and tucking into more cones of that definitely delicious potato substance. Hold the vinegar though, wouldn’t to do be making such faces when consuming that plebeian muck.

Millions of Pensioners Still Walk the Streets

Now I’m definitely not saying that those of retirement age and beyond are streetwalkers in that particular sense of the word. I’m sure that those who’ve spent that career aligned to such a profession have started up their own high class bordellos rather than depending on wandering the streets to drum up custom. Anyhow, I’m really saying that pensioners are more like stray cats or possibly even urban foxes. Charming to see every now and then but something of a pest en masse.

Why have none of the election manifestos addressed this pressing issues? They’re harping on and on about tax and that (fine, I haven’t actually read any of them cover to cover but have you? My knowledge of the various pledges is pretty much limited to whatever happens to adorn the newspaper front pages) but literally nothing about keeping oldies off the street.

I’m not claiming that they’re a menace or anything. This is really more for their own protection rather than anything else. Muggers will only get frustrated with them forgetting their demands over and again and then taking absolutely forever to shake a few stray pennies out of their purses to absent mindedly hand over. They also block off the pavements and momentarily disturb the rosy cheeked children attempting to play outside because they’ve been turfed out of the house for having too much screen time of late.

Admittedly, there aren’t all that many potential solutions to this problem. Sure, you could herd the pensioners into convenient local pens but how would you keep them entertained? Bingo? Don’t be silly. Perhaps it could become legislation that the elderly be tagged and microchipped like other pets so that returning them home becomes that much easier. Personally, I think the current free range set up isn’t all that bad and that people out there are harping on about it just to make a big deal of it. So silly.

Too Brainy to Bankrupt UK

Too big to fail. Too intelligent to lead the economy by the nose all the way to the slaughterhouse whether that was the intended final destination or not. We get a lot of assurances these days, often in the form of terribly snappy soundbites. Sure, it leads most people thoroughly unimpressed when things inevitably end up tits up. For film lovers, it might remind you of the blithe confidence of the higher ups aboard the Titanic dismissing the need for more lifeboats.

Anyway, we’re in a time where we need to think about what kind of person we want in charge of the country. In foreign climes one cannot help but notice that there’s been something of a preference for the, shall we say, less than intellectual bent when it comes to their governing politicians. I am of course thinking of George W back in the day, people felt comfortable with the fact that he was the sort of chap they’d like to go for a beer with. Call me crazy but I’d rather have someone staggeringly smart at the top even if they did insist on being superior about it at any opportunity.

As the current incumbent of the Oval Office might tell you if you happened to catch him in a moment of candour, uneasy lies the head that wears the crown (or words to that effect). It’s not as easy as some might deem it to be while they’re on the outside. There’s a lot to do and I might be naïve in thinking this but surely it can only help if you’re an informed and inquisitive individual?

Putting all that to one side, too brainy to bankrupt UK is unlikely to be an electioneering slogan you’ll hear anytime soon. No spin doctor would recommend alienating large swathes of the electorate in that fashion. Nevertheless, the bright get special treatment. If some genius with the brain the size of a planet starting saying this they might well be right. Then again, they’d probably be too smart to want to get into politics in the first place.

Drug Firm Faces Moors Monster

This post contains no material regarding psychopaths (well, I’ve written that disclaimer prior to penning the rest of it so it seems like quite a tall order to live up to. Especially as I already seem to have devoted the first few lines to the total lack of psychopaths. Allow me to clarify, I am not planning to build this thing up to a veiled metaphor regarding a newly deceased murderer. ‘Kay?). It’s about whimsy and magic and the inner workings of the pharmaceutical industry. Buckle in.

Time was, all the adverse effects that drug companies had to really worry about were those mounting piles of corpses and the creation of flipper babies. Now they get blamed for every Bigfoot and Nessie that has to be released into the wild for legal protection. It’s a lot easier than dealing with the fallout of the general public finding out that you have indeed devised a cure for baldness but it regresses you into a Chewbacca-esque creature with less capabilities regarding communication and basic hygiene.

For a while, the elegant plan of dumping their mutated experiments in the middle of a desolate moor was more than good enough for the malevolent tinkerers with nature. But then the area got that much busier and tourists started snapping images of the unnatural monsters. If they were found then their origins might, somehow, be uncovered.

It was time and past to round them all up. They could be stuck somewhere else once all the fuss had died down. In the meantime they could be dropped in the sealable pit. Perhaps a fight to the death for the baying mob of their shareholders (sworn to secrecy of course) would do wonders for company morale and the bottom line? Anyway, that’s getting ahead of the plan. Have to face down with the freaks first and entice them into the van.