Wednesday 21 March 2012

Hurrah! The Budget!

I’ve been sceptical in the last couple of years about the power the Lib Dems can enjoy in the Coalition but I need a bit of salt and good brown sauce for it seems I must now eat my hat. Typically I steer clear of politics, here removed as I am in Tolly Maw (technically a possession of the Duchy of Burgundy), that and because it’s just too easy. Today’s budget has proven me wrong with the power of the people from middling public schools proving triumphant over those with whom they share power that went to somewhat better public schools. The highlights speak for themselves.

The adoption of Travis as the new national anthem for a start, I’m not sure which one, all the songs sound much the same to me but it’s a move towards the avowed promise of more dinner-parties.

The lowering of the nation’s croissant deficit.

The return of school milk, albeit now as free Santa Ama Reserve Merlot.

Wind farms to be replaced by compulsory cycling with those squeaky dynamos you used to get hooked up to batteries to be collected as part of the national grid.

The Lake District to be reclassified as Upper Virginia Water.

The compulsory seizure of Audi.

The Church of England to be renamed Narnia.

Genre literature to carry a warning sticker pointing out that it isn’t real.

Furniture to be phased out by 2016 in preference for iChairs, which you can’t sit on but are a lot easier to carry around, a little cheaper, and don’t wear out.

Nigella Lawson to be appointed Queen.

The choice between voting for one’s member of parliament, or for X Factor – but not both.

A reduction by half of the Police, and consequent granting of the same powers to the neighbourhood watch.

A restructuring of the BBC to show only the news and continual episodes of The Good Life, Ever Decreasing Circles, and To The Manor Born.

Compulsory Facebook updates under the Provision of Security Act.

So fair play, election promises delivered!


  1. Huzzah. They could've knocked fourpence off a bottle of HP sauce whilst they were at it, but at least the threat of making tomato ketchup illegal came to naught.

  2. As you can imagine, my dear, I'm fucking beside myself with rage. But nonetheless we soldier on. I salute your parody, but sternly, as the apologists for the Vichy Liberal government force me yet further to the left. You may yet get to call me Commissar; you'll certainly see me on the streets with a petrol bomb in hand the first time I hear of someone being refused medical treatment because they don't have insurance.

  3. No, no, no - with the tax on petrol our Government makes out of the deal. A conspiracy I calls it! Like why the Beagle probe suspiciously failed after miscalculation as to how many ciggies were needed to keep it going. Or the peace corps being secretly formed by the chocolate companies to seize the Ivory Coast - the 'Men in Green And Black'. Or dates at Christmas. Or... or... oars.