Wish upon a Eurostar

Forget about the Rebekah Brookes/Andy Coulson malarkey. Who gives a stuff about the Big Six energy cartel? Litter? Litter was so yesterday… In a timely reminder of how fact can be stranger than fiction not seven days after I wrote about compliant, tolerant-by-law sheeple, comes the life-imitating-art news that the European Onion intends to actually legislate for tolerance. Better yet, they’re going for the Full Orwell and plan “special administrative units" to monitor any individual or group expressing views deemed to be intolerant. (And you really should read that link in full) That’s my blog up the Swanee then. Or is it? Because I have a feeling this may actually be all my fault.

I noticed years ago – when  was still at school myself, in fact – that education is increasingly not concerned with excellence in outcomes and instead focuses more each passing year on creating cookie-cutter, compliant citizens, suitably dumbed down to fit all those round holes. This happens in spite of the almost comically obvious evidence that kids come in all sorts of disparate forms. Tall kids, short kids; ugly kids, attractive kids; sweet kids, nasty kids, thin kids and of course oh-so-thick kids. After years of my observations falling on deaf ears, up pops Michael Gove and suddenly it’s not only news it’s a war.

Why is it my fault? Well you see, democracy is supposed to be that the government enacts the will of the majority of the people, but we all know that is tosh. In fact what they do is promulgate manifesto promises based on their trawl of focus groups, opinion polls and the World Wide Web and then, once in power, wilfully ignore the wishes of the voters that put them there. British governments no more govern than wind turbines decide how much electricity to generate today.  But they must get their policies from somewhere… and I reckon I know where. Me.

In the nineteen seventies I became aware of the self-sufficiency movement and all that lovely hippy shit. Fair enough, I said, local microgeneration and alternative technologies are all well and good for those who can adapt their lifestyle to suit, but for a national energy strategy we’ll always need a mix of coal and oil and gas, and whatever we do we must keep nuclear. No, no, no said the Hippies and the last government used that increasingly loud, green voice as an excuse to spend not one penny on reliable generation, against all my advice. Then last week, hey-bastard-presto, new nuclear.

I used to think that I was always right because whatever I have thought about the events of the day often turns out, contrary to the general opinion and sometimes many years later, to be true after all. Time after time in these past couple of blogging years I have been vindicated: The EU is a bad thing, uncontrolled immigration is plain stupid, a massive, dependent welfare state is unaffordable, borrow and spend IS boom and bust, we don’t build enough houses and politicians never listen. But now I realise what is really going on. They ARE listening after all; they are listening to me.

I wheel out these dystopian bits of fluffery and obviously my monitoring team reads them then, before you know it, official policy. Or an announcement, an admission… even, sometimes, a grudging apology. It is clear now that the guvmint is reading my blogs and proceeding appropriately; every time I forecast bad news, sure enough, bad news. Whenever I call some politician a lying shit; bingo - reshuffle, sacking or public disgrace. You don’t think Chris Huhne ended up in the nick because of Vicky Pryce, do you? Nope it was obviously me; I’ve never liked the man.

Now, I must test my theory, so let’s give it a try. I believe the EU is determined to root out solitary gonzo hacks like me and in an effort to make us all disappear quietly they are using the EuroMillions Lottery to hide the fact that they are buying us off. So, if you’re listening, Mr Van Rompuy, the numbers for this Friday will be 03, 12, 21, 34 & 45, plus 2 and 7. I hereby wish upon all twelve EU stars – one for every law you create and lie you tell each day – for this to come about. Thanks, Big Bruv.

Ven you hit Enter ve vill break down your door.

If you don’t hear from me on Monday you’ll know this is true and I am living on Richard Branson’s island (how do you think he really earned all that money?). Or rotting in a tolerant jail cell in the Eulags.