Inspire a Generation

Inspire a generation! Wow! No really, wow! And who could possibly fail to hunger to rise to that challenge?

One hundred days and counting; one hundred days- that was when I started writing this entry- until the shadows are banished by the righteous sabre of the blinding light of truth. The cynics and the doubters will surely be despatched in this (almost) holy battle for the minds and the souls of 'our' nation. Excited? You betch'ar!

Admittedly the sale of tickets didn't go quite as planned; minor cock up there, maybe. And who'd have thought it, with that nice Mr Coe in charge? Still, let's just put this one behind us, pick ourselves up, brush ourselves down and rejoin the sacred race.

Forget what those Satanic underminers are saying, that we're all being fleeced yet again. You won't be saying that when you're there, at the hundred metres final, waiting for the world's fastest man to wow you into submission. It'll be even faster now, I should imagine, what with a more up-to-date perspective on drug-enhanced performances- 'Welcome back, boys!'- or having the time of your life, during the opening ceremony.

What's that, you never got any tickets? What, none at all? And you applied for how many? Seems a bit unlikely, I mean, didn't that nice Mr Coe paint such a wonderful image; a Nation in shared celebration of the 'Greatest Show on Earth'? Are you sure that you're not just a touch bitter that you weren't one of the lucky 'majority' to get to see that much-hyped 100m final?

What's that you say? Two thirds of all the best tickets are going to rich businessmen, to be used purely in the interests of corporate greed, sold in batches of ten, at £4,500 a head.

I think I'm already inspired, but inspired to what? Welcome to Britain, step inside and rub shoulders with a bunch of modern-day entrepreneurs, supping Champaign  and generally not really understanding the finer points of yet another easily acquired shoe-in sporting event. For those that already have, 'here, have a whole lot more! Don't worry, the tax payer is footing the bill for the erection of these magnificent structures, and their children, and perhaps their children too. Cash in now! Everything must go!'

Thanks to theeruditefrog

So, how are we to inspire that 'next generation', to which the advertising propaganda, sorry 'slogan', so enthusiastically refers? With what shall we inspire them, Dear Liza? To which the answer must surely be, "There's a ruddy great hole in this logic, Dear Henry!" You'd think Advertising Standards would be all over this one; Advertising Standards, isn't that some sort of oxymoron?

Before we step, fully unawares, into this crazy fantasy world of 'The Greatest Show on Earth', let's just take a tiny peek at the country that's hosting this bonanza, shall we? Muse it over? Poke it around a bit and see what falls off? Truth be told, it doesn't appear that there's an awful lot left to fall off.

Looking, from where I am, through the wrong end of a jolly powerful telescope, at the fruits on offer, I'd have to say that it looks like someone else has long since plucked anything worth having. And hacked down the tree, to boot, perhaps for the purposes of heating one of those 'Christ-Almighty-sized houses' that we just might glimpse- set well back in a country estate half the size of a county- from the grubby window of a speeding train. I say 'speeding', whereas what I probably should say is heavily-delayed, crowded-to-bursting-point and outrageously-overpriced train. For the purposes of painting a clearer picture of the country that seeks to 'inspire a generation', let's imagine that the owner of that conjured-up country estate is the major share holder of that woeful train service and we won't be far wide of the mark. Bet he got the tickets he was after!

Chaps like the fictitious one I've just imagined don't seem to be quite up to speed with this, 'we're all in this together' malarky either, do they? Curious! Especially curious, given that money, or the amount of it that's around, has mysteriously shrunk. Or has it? The recent selling of Munch's 'Scream' would seem to suggest not.

Thanks also to fotografar

You see, non-economist that I am, I'm much of the persuasion that this is just another smoke and mirrors con. I would contest that, much like water, there's just as much as there ever was. But, also rather like water, it's not always in exactly the right places, and, with a government like this one- intent on keeping it in those wrong places- what hope have we got? Sadly, the twisted system under which we are expected 'to inspire' and thrive has laboured to create such inequality that the mega-bucks entrepreneurs no longer see fit to regard the rest of us as anything other than ripe-for-exploitation and, having judged us as not down-trodden-enough, they've just kept on helping themselves from that empty larder.

Alas, the larder- our larder, that is- truly was already empty, so now- empty larder not withstanding- we also owe money that we haven't got to those who already have all that we once thought we had. Smoke and mirrors! 'Inspiring!'

If you've half an eye for the news and haven't yet had your TV repossessed, you might just have caught a bit of that Rupert versus Democracy mix-up. I shouldn't be at all surprised if the old dodder doesn't get one hell of a smack on one of his arthritic wrists. Best not delve too close though, what with all that behind closed doors stuff, involving every UK Prime Minister over the past three decades. God alone knows what we might unearth, a regular Pandora's Box! It'll be like discovering that Santa Clause really doesn't exist, all over again. "What, 'Democracy' is effectively a self-serving illusion?"

And ol' Jeremy what's-his-name- you know, the one with that difficult to pronounce surname- working his thread-bare socks off for the best deal for the nation. I do hope that he isn't inconvenienced too much, for his accidental meandering into the realms of a fascist state. I'm sure that he had his reasons. Rupert probably had a gun to the heads of his kids- ruthless business man that he is.

Deregulation, that's what we need a bit more of, to get this country off its knees. After all Rupert and Jeremy were merely working on the assumption that deregulation had already railroaded its way through parliament. Give it another year and we'll be laughing about all this fuss and nonsense. "Phone-hacking, it's so passé," we'll all be saying.

I wonder what the purpose of that 'unnecessary' regulation- all that wordy legislation and red tape nonsense- was any way. When all was said and done didn't it just get in the way of Britain's steam-roller drive for ever-greater profits? Surely all of the people who really 'need' protection (and actually matter) can afford the best lawyers and legal teams anyway. Move on! 

What finer example can I site, as argument for greater continued deregulation than that noteworthy British enterprise that is currently opening up all sorts of Olympic accommodation 'solutions' in our proud capital city. Accommodation Blockers, we might term them, are being 'invited' to sleep on the streets, in order to free up a few more 'affordable' apartments for the duration of The Inspirational Olympics. A 500% hike in rental costs too, so a real win-win situation and a fine example of how simple deregulation can 'free up' opportunities.

Could I just chip in and suggest that all these 'surplus' people be 'tidied' away, in perhaps one of the city's currently unused tube stations, so that paying spectators won't be expected to step over sleeping bodies in doorways, as they return to their lodgings or, perhaps, venture out to one of London's many fine cuisine eateries. Well thought through, Tess! 

It's all been sliding for so long now that it really is hard to imagine how we might re-establish a tad of sanity to the whole sorry mess. Give a dog enough bones and he gets a lot bigger, and wants bigger bones into the bargain.

All in the interests of efficiency savings you understand, but have you happened to wander into the outer chambers of our tired ol' democracy, to peruse what's still on offer. A dispute with the police? Well who more even-handed to preside over things than, oh, it's the police again. A dispute with your Council- 'Working Harder For You'- a problem with tax errors, unhappy with your MP, worried about the bubonic-spread of Mr Tesco? What ever the problem there's a system in place, invariably availing itself of the 0845 option. And, if the realisation of all of this has made you ill, don't forget to take your cheque book, if you expect to be able to park at 'the hospital of your choice.' Democracy and accountability, working ever more diligently on your behalf.

And thanks to Niklas

Just a thought, but could we not perhaps trial paying our MPs according to, for example, some sort of efficiency and accountability league tables? A quick whip round for the money to feed a donkey that might be 'inspired' to wear a rosette every few years, or maybe we could just invest in a few rather nice hat stands, ones that might look rather touching with an expensive Panama placed at a rakish angle. I, for one wouldn't notice the difference; maybe a small benefit in the taxes saved? Is my MP still in the country, still alive, still paying UK taxes?        

Votes for businesses? Clearly these won't be necessary. It would appear that voting per se might well be a tad over-rated anyway. Another year or so, under the current regime, and good ol' Britain will have moved on from all that Democracy nonsense. Saving paper, I should imagine! Inspired yet?

Moving on; I'm actually very busy myself, trying to scrape a few pennies together, to see if I also can really make a difference. Dining with those in the know, that's the plan anyway, to see if I can't inspire a few overdue structural changes.

Christ, there's already a bit of a dinner queue! One good idea and it would appear that the whole world has already thought of exactly the same thing. Who are all these bods anyway? And am I the only one in the queue who didn't receive his Budget tax bonus? Sir Anthony Ruddock, Sir Anthony Bamford, Michael Hintze- think I'll chat with him, at least he's not a Sir yet- Mike Farmer, David Rowland, Henry Angest. 'Democracy' evolving before my very eyes. You want how much for a place at the table? You're having a laugh!

Anyone out there who is still misguided enough to think that we still inhabit a democracy might also be naive enough to view the approaching 'show' as a means to 'inspire a generation', but I, for one have started to develop serious doubts.

Football World Cup, where do we sign up?