The Return of the King

Chapter One

This time it was going to be alright. The nation might be in chaos, the leadership divided, the grassroots confused and voters losing confidence, but waiting calmly overseas was the one man who could save Britain. 

He had retreated when previous defeats seemed overwhelming but he knew, with a profound wisdom borne of many battles, that he was not utterly vanquished. There still might be some overlooked hope, some unexpected twist, that would bring him back triumphant, his enemies cowed and fleeing in disorder, his people shaking off the spells that bound them to those who had betrayed them, his very own great nation rising as one to usher him back into the power that he so richly deserved.

And so it was that as his aircraft bore him back into British airspace and the duty-frees were placed lovingly into the discreet briefcase that never left his side, he smiled; a wry but warm smile that he was returning to his own people and to the acclamation of his party ......

Stop press: 

Pic: BBC Website

 Chapter Two

And so it was that the King left once more for his warm retreat in the South American sunshine. [Another couple of thousand words here, please. Ed]

 

Call for Carroll

 As we seem to be living in some mad inverted version of reality, with chancellors being fired for carrying out the agreed policy, and home secretaries finding a flimsy excuse to resign, and prime ministers going nowhere one day and resigning the next, there is only one man to whom we may reliably turn for assistance in getting some sort of grasp, however feeble, on what the hell is going on.

The LizTruss and the Chancellor
were walking down the Mall
"With taxes cut there must be growth"
The LizTruss told her pal
"And as for those who tell us 'no'
I say let's sack 'em all".

"Perhaps the Bank of England might..."
The Chancellor began.
"God rot them all" the LizTruss said
"They're useless, every man.
Let's waste no time in cracking on
We have the perfect plan".

"Oh markets, come and join with us"
The LizTruss did beseech
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk
And I have much to preach"
"She's always right" The Chancellor said
"Keep quiet and let her teach".

The LizTruss and the Chancellor
Continued down their road.
But one by one the moneymen
remained in their abode.
"She's sowing doom" their faces said
"The markets will implode".

"The time has come" the LizTruss said
"To talk of many things
Of budgets, debt and fuel costs
Of reckless spending flings
And why the rich will save us all
And whether pigs have wings".

"But wait a bit" the markets cried
"Before you choose this path.
It doesn't seem to work at all
Has no-one done the math?"
"Keep quiet" snarled the Chancellor
"Or else you'll feel my wrath"

The LizTruss and the Chancellor
Discovered, to their cost
That people need to understand
And not feel double-crossed
The pressure grew, the storm it blew
And both were media-tossed.

And as the waves engulfed their boat
The Chancellor was caught
Discharged into the foaming waves
Their recklessness had bought
And now alone the LizTruss stood
Though all had come to naught.

The LizTruss and the Chancellor
No longer can be seen
Now others try to hide the tracks
Of where their steps had been
And scratch their chins and try to learn
Whatever did it mean?

All about U

It has been a turbulent few days with major swings in market confidence, falls in the value of the pound and shares, and increases in interest rates, combined with intense pressure on the government to appear to look at least vaguely competent. Readers may be confused about the latest proposals for managing the British economy, and the rapid changes taking place at the top, and the least we can do is to offer a simple guide.

The latest government U-turn overturns the planned reduction in the increase in tax, which was scheduled to be cut to no less than a phased-in increase, itself deferred a year and phased out under the U-turn which raised the rate it could be increased to the lower of the amount projected before the budgeted increase that was held over from the targeted reduction, itself reduced on a sliding scale proposed in the policy reversed by the U-turn that increased the maximum reduction to an increase of what had been previously reduced, and the maximum of the reduced increases of the forecast change based on a rolling forecast of turnouts from turn-ups for the book.

 A government spokesman said the government now intends to go away and lie down in a darkened room, although the amount of darkness may be reduced by the incremental increase in daylight consequent upon a phasing out of the twilight allowance, as projected previously but now tapered off and subject to any U-turns that may be ahead. Or have already happened.

 The ex-chancellor, who found himself summoned back to London from Washington so swiftly he would barely have a chance to stock up on duty-frees, turned into Downing Street, was turned out of office and turned back to a career on the back benches. The prime minister, who announced staunchly only yesterday that there would be no U-turn, reaffirmed today that all her previous statements were inoperative and now onwards, NOW ONWARDS, there would be no more U-turns, unless forced on her by the “markets” or by the raw fear gripping vulnerable Tory MPs, or if there was a jolly good reason to, and not just because of rash decisions taken on the back of ludicrous promises to gullible members of her party who were voting for her as leader, that is right out and not going to happen, we have her solemn and binding promise, read her lips, no U-turns. Unless….

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 Meanwhile a dilemma for lovers of poetry. Lines on the departure of Mr Kwarteng or welcoming the arrival of the man whose surname is so easy to match with suitable rhymes? I had made the obvious start this morning:

And so farewell to Kwazi
His job gone down the khazi

And that is as far as I got. I didn't really want to put something in about "arrested by the Stasi".  Anyway Jeremy H. is back and let us see how big a Hunt he can be this time.

Crisis, What Crisis?

 Bettany Hughes, OBE is a distinguished historian and teacher. She has published many books on classical history and made many television programmes bringing that history to life. One might have thought that all this erudition would have caused second thoughts at the commissioning of her latest TV series, which came to my attention tonight.

Source: Freeview website

We are still dealing with the after-effects of the covid pandemic. The war in Ukraine is creating massive international tensions and the soaring costs of fuel have led to unprecedented spending plans from the incoming Truss government which in turn have unsettled financial markets and caused the pound to fall to a seriously low level. For most people surviving this winter, without succumbing to infection or hypothermia, is the top priority. 

Does this crisis bother Ms Hughes? Not a bit. Far from embarking on another scholarly examination of, say, funeral practices in ancient Egypt or the cultural impact of Roman expansionism in the Middle East, she is gaily gallivanting across France and Italy, all expenses paid, to find out if travelling to some of the most agreeable destinations in the world and stuffing oneself daily at the finest restaurants can enrich one's life.

Let us pause a while, practice deep breathing and stare at something soothing. The basis of this show is that someone needs to discover if living well, living exceptionally well it may appear, is better than living the normal lifestyle to which all of us who are not TV presenters are accustomed. The subtext is this is some sort of unanswered question, something so basic and yet so baffling, that a top academic and a full TV crew must undergo the suffering that only those torn between the 7 course and the 8 course tasting menus, at a 3 Michelin star restaurant perched high above the glistening Mediterranean, will ever know. As to the agony of having to choose the most exotic aperitifs, the choicest of wines and, finally, how many petit fours to complete the feast, I shudder to think.

For this show to work there needs to be a counter-argument. I am no Hegelian but if the idea is that travel, arts, culture, boozing, fine dining and their ilk enrich, then there must be a contrasting viewpoint that these things detract and should be shunned.Otherwise it is merely a statement of the bleedin' obvious and can be settled within the first five minutes. So I really hope that in the first few episodes we see Hughes fasting, living in a barrel, drinking nothing more than water, reading nothing but sacred texts and otherwise staring at a brick wall, whilst perhaps indulging in a little light flagellation now and then  (it is on Channel 5, after all). Then, when she throws off the shackles, gleefully picks up the corkscrew, jumps into the Ferrari and roars off to Tuscany, she can truly claim to have discovered that living well is better than living with privations.

Once the enrichment begins, how will we know just how jolly well enriched Hughes has become? What this show needs is some sort of enrichment monitor, like the swingometer that gave us so much joy during general elections in the days before computer graphics, to measure the levels of enrichment each tantalising view and sumptuous dish provides. I visualise Hughes closing her eyes in ecstasy as she handles another Leonardo notebook or swallows another lobster, and then a man in a brown coat deftly nudges the pointer round another notch. "Yes, that's the 60% barrier broken" gushes the voice-over "And now I think she's going for the full-on 'My word, that's incredible' moment as she quaffs champagne on the sun-deck of a 200' luxury yacht cruising to Monte. This is very exciting, we haven't seen such a level of enrichment since Rob Brydon had his second free cruise in exchange for 20 seconds of footage of him smiling about it".

I don't need to see the last programme in the series. I have no doubt it will feature a somewhat plumper Hughes opening the windows of the Imperial Suite at her five star hotel in Rome, looking out on the sun-dappled forum and musing thoughtfully "This is so much more enriching than Mrs Irons' BnB in Lowestoft, I'm so glad now that I turned that down".  In fact, I don't need to see any of the programmes. I discovered many years ago that arts, culture, travel (this is the Ruislip Commuter blog after all) and a bloody good nosh-up were way better than their alternatives (whatever they may be) and I really don't need a TV presenter to confirm it.

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TV commissioning editors: If you feel there is room in the schedules for another "Let's go somewhere nice and then make a programme about how nice it is" show, and are looking for an acerbic, wryly amusing yet always sympathetic and really camera-friendly sort of guy to front it, I happen to have a window in my otherwise busy schedule. Actually quite a big window. More a sort of Versailles Hall of Mirrors size window, if you catch my drift. So anytime that suits you, really. Do call. Mrs C has been demanding more enrichment in her life for a while and the market for witticisms about commuting has been a flat lately, to tell you the truth.