Well, I've seen them... we've all seen them; probably seen, heard and more than likely smelt them. So we know what he's talking about, don't we? And, much as we'd hate to ever find ourselves on the same side of that vast, vast divide as Camoron and his cronies, we can sort of see where he's coming from. Or, as I find is increasingly the case, where he pretends to be coming from.
Thing is, though, I can also fairly vividly recall having actually been one of them, admittedly not for more than a good few years now. The argument's not that dissimilar to the one that split the nation's loyalties, regarding smoking; that is to contend that, if it weren't for the socially inept behaviour of the confrontational, vociferous (and offending) minority, we all might well be able to carry on much as before.
But this particular minority are particularly loud, particularly unpleasant, frequently inconsiderate and occasionally (but increasingly) given to acts of violence. For my own part I can honestly claim never, in my day, to have sought out such confrontation, most certainly never acts of violence, never to have indulged in acts of senseless destruction, and always to have been able to find my own way home, even if it wasn't later entirely clear as to how I might have achieved this. Such were my early encounters with the topical drug that is alcohol.
As a student, whole hours were occasionally lost. Perhaps, way back then, the early part of the evenings had seemed to be going well enough, but then things occasionally became rather hazy and, by the following day vast chunks of the festivities seemed to have been mysteriously espunged from my memories. Just the hangover remained, that and the curious mixture of sympathy and accusation that often prevailed at that time.
Please be clear, that I don't wish to paint myself as some sort of public liability, although I'm guessing that there were those who might rightfully have been less than thrilled at any consequent antics. In my defence, I think that I can honestly write that these miscalculations- because that's what they invariably were- can be numbered upon the fingers of two hands. I can also claim never to have taken a single 'sickie,' as a consequence of such overindulgence; that is to say that I always, but always, turned up for work the next day. Whether I was functioning at brim-full capacity I seriously doubt, but I was always there, in deflated body if not always entirely in shining spirit.
If Camoron and his buddies from the Bullingdon Club were ever to drift onto those foreign shores, where honesty still prevails, they might also, themselves, be more prepared to confess to far more in the manner of self-indulgent moments of drunken abandon. Instead, they choose to continue to judge and malign the vast working majority- alcohol consumption has become merely the latest subject in a long, long line- from way up in their ivory towers of superiority, mind-blowing privilege and entirely unaffected luxury.
I should confess that now I'm of a different generation things do seem to have moved on at pace. I recognise that an abscess of drunken younger males might well be something to avoid, that even certain well-practised individuals might be driven to chance their arm, should any excuse for confrontation present itself, that screamed abuse and the sounds of something or someone under duress are no longer things that one should necessarily opt to investigate alone, at say eleven-thirty of an evening. The British Nation has moved on, to distressingly accurately reflect the social values, or lack thereof, that the nation actually espouses. And, lest I haven't made myself clear on this point, that is to say that, ' individuals, even certain entire neighbourhoods, might be deemed irrelevant in the drive to maximise shareholder profits.'
Perhaps, in part due to wealthy Uncle Tony's covert deals with the drinks industry, some of 'our' city streets now possess designated no-go-zones, that will mysteriously assume precedence later into the evenings. Often, it would appear, it is the curious alchemy of football and alcohol that seem, 'most efficiently', to fuel the worst excesses.
Either way, as a consequence of this unfortunate growing trend, several of us may have welcomed any form of parliamentary investigation into some sort of solution to the escalating mayhem. But really we should have known better than to expect anything short of yet another excuse to hike the profits. One might well be forgiven for wondering how much Camoron's tax hike is going to affect the price of a nice bottle of Krug or Dom Perignon, a bottle of one of the top vintage ports(?) Should the breeze shift round to the south-east I believe that I can already detect the faint whiff of more illicitly distilled alcohol, drifting across the rooftops. I wonder where I might be able to purchase this more affordable brand?
So, just a thought, Mr Camoron, how about an alternative approach to this one-of-oh-so-many of the nation's current ills? How about giving those not at the dizzying top of society, those not drunk upon celebrity status, a tiny stake in the 'society' that they are being constantly harangued for not contributing more fully towards? How about not force-feeding the un-empowered a highly restrictive diet of the latest social-engineering thoughts of some entirely-cushioned multi-millionaire?
How about not regurgitating to the nation only the latest thoughts upon how these multi-millionaires would like 'best' to restructure 'our' country, to best suit the tiny minority of mega-haves? How about spending a little more time listening to some alternative views to those who seek entirely to richly incentivise only those already drunk upon wealth and privilege, whilst always tightening the belts of the apparently not-hard-working-enough ordinary citizen? How about not attempting to organise every last molecule of the UK, according to what best suits the profit, profit, profit (and yet again) share holders?
And, whilst we're on the subject, how about aspiring towards a really free press, rather than waffling on about, "the integrity of the," not really, "free press"? Maybe working towards the goal of a media that might best avail the population of some economic and other pertinent facts, that might best enable them to more fully engage in the (currently bankrupt) 'democratic' process? Thus enabling the disaffected to begin establishing a tiny stake in 'our' society. A press that might, counter to the wishes of its current millionaire owners, actually inform the population? Whatever next?
So finally, returning to the initial subject of alcohol, attempting to tortuously complete another lengthy circuit, I would claim seldom to drink beyond lightly these days- my appraisal, not that of the GP- but when I was fully employed within the public sector I was frequently driven to consume alcohol with something of a vengeance, invariably in order to help to numb the constant blame and sniping criticisms from a long line of 'almost perfect' appointed government-here-today-gone-tomorrow-secretaries of state. And, lest this should ever have been deemed insufficient to the causes of 'driving up standards', the resultant full-and-damning weight of the 'free' press, seeping, in due course, poisonously into the daily observations of one's family and friends- "integrity of the free press" indeed? The numbed years seemed curiously preferable to opening a vein and, as I have already made clear, never but a day lost to the ravages of my ambrosia of choice.
Now merely an outsider- t'was never really otherwise- I would suggest that, if Camoron's attacks upon the blameless public sector are to continue to rain down with such unchecked ferocity, alcohol be made available on prescription.
Alternatively, 'we' might continue with the current tools of choice; that would be lies upon lies upon lies upon lies... It's almost like a sentence that Uncle Maurits Escher might have written.
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