Thursday, 20 May 2010
IT'S WHAT GORDON WOULD HAVE WANTED
I hate bullying, blinked Mr Ed Balls to the BBC's Eddie Smug, off PM. Mr Balls was Gordon Snot's most trusted and most influential lieutenant throughout his thirteen years in Downing Street. An Oxbridge PPE wallah, Balls imagined and drafted many of Brown's financial reforms, led the continuance of the late John Smith's infamous prawn cocktail offensive against Mr Red Braces - over expensive nosh, which we will have bought, persuading the likes of Sir Fred Goodwin that Yes, he could have everything and don't worry, if your greed fucks it all up, we'll just give you the keys of the Treasury to make sure you all get your bonuses, the people can pay for it all, 'swhat they're for.
Now, there was a time when a Labour politician wouldn't suck banker cock but that was a long time ago and by the time of Balls's entry to the stage, Labour - or newLabour - was run by the gangsters Robinson, Mandelstein, Tony and Imelda and Brown. The Light regulatory touch, the Ease at people becoming filthy rich and the whole squalid debacle of cash for peerages, wars, anything, really, was in full swing; Balls, then, no particular sinner, just a child of his times, flipping his homes, doubling-up the exes with the Mrs and generally shitting in our faces with the rest of them, actually no more a member of the Labour Party than I, curious, then, that he thinks he can and should lead it.
Given the scale of Brown's defeat, his hitherto only guessed-at vulnerability to the judgement of the people; given the rotten advice he was given in the campaign by the likes of Balls, himself, Mandelstein and the repulsive, gobby dwarf, Alexander, one would think that anyone so closely connected to him would, in decency, rule themselves out of a leadership contest and go and do an Alan Milburn or a Patsy Hewitt or a Geoff Hoon, you know, go and be a notional director of something and sell your connections, maybe become a tedious TeeVee performer like Portillo but Ed has something else in common with Snotty, something aside from the stuttering, the bullying and the never-done-a-proper-days-work-but-I-know-bestism, he's an arrogant cunt, blinking, short-sighted of the failures which have beggared the nation and which he and Brown authored, refusing even to recognise that millions of Labour voters will now, thanks to him, know penury and depression, want and anxiety.
Balls' entire existence, from his overpaid special-advisorship to his parachuted-in safe seat and immediate cabinet preferment as one of Brown's ghastly little nepotees, is an act of bullying; there are countless people in the Labour Party who might, given time, invigorate an anti-City, anti-Wall Street, pro-democracy consciousness, in keeping with the times, a balance to the two current Tory parties; that four or five misfits, blinking stutterers, inbred fuck-ups and losers who owe their prominence to Brown's insistence on surrounding himself with lessers now seek to close the lists to others is pure NewLabour; that Balls is not hooted from the stage in derision must be of great comfort to the New Dictatorship, as it launches its first Five Year Plan.