Lordy Lordy!

‘Morally indefensible’ is how Bishop Christopher Foster described the government’s proposed reform of Gordon Brown’s electoral bribe of working tax credits. And the House of Lords duly wrung their hands and spent a day reading out begging letters from those whose standard of living is topped up by the rest of us. As a lifelong non-recipient of taxpayers’ cash I say it is morally indefensible for this situation to have arisen in the first place.

No government has ever campaigned on a platform to increase the number of poor people in its population, so whose idea was it to not only let the poor multiply, but to hasten their descent by importing other, even poorer people to compete with them in the race to the arse end of society? Do you know where children get their most powerful and long-lasting life-blueprints from? Unemployable, uneducated parents may occasionally produce future scientists and doctors, leaders and visionaries... but, on the whole they just squeeze out misshaped versions of themselves.

For all the fine words, education has slid ever backward and what was once the most advanced nation on earth is now a sluggish and dull backwater through the shallow muddy basins of which, much of its population trudge. People have low enough aspirations as it is – telly, booze, takeaway, fags – but without a functioning brain they have little chance of becoming anything else. Nor of understanding that the world really does not owe you a living. Such people should not be entrusted with raising future generations – they should be allowed to die out altogether, along with the grunt industries they once worked in.

So, accepting that we need fewer poor, stupid people, unless we actually embark on a cull programme – and I am dismayed by the lacklustre support for such an eminently reasonable solution - the only way to bring this about is to dissuade. On that basis, literally starving them into infertility has its merits. Except, of course, in our far from extreme society (no matter what the idiot liberal lefties imagine) even that is a course of action too drastic to propose. Tax credit cuts it is, then... and every reasonable, rational man can see it. It is simply a matter of time.

Turkeys voting for Christmas?

Which is where the Lords come back in. George Osborne’s latest tactic of setting a trap, pointing at it, putting up ‘Warning! Trap!’ notices and then watching his political opponents walk straight into it is earning dividends. It’s worked very nicely with the new Labour ‘leadership’ and it may just have worked to hasten the long overdue reform of the cosy, corrupt, crony Upper House. Well played, sir, the Lords may just be a-leaping to their demise.

Any old iron

Sitting at my desk I can hear bird song. Bird song and the assorted rattles and coughs of the bin men and neighbours stumbling into the day. Bird song and bin men and - hark!- what's that? I am transported back to my youth when, for a few bits of scrap, the Rag and Bone Man would hand over a balloon. Heaven only knows what he did with our offerings, but he and his horse seemed happy enough to plod through the day, collecting other people's junk. Noble scavengers, recycling our rubbish aeons before it became fashionable, politically correct and environmentally unsound.

Nowadays several 'scrappies' come round every day, not once, not twice, but - it seems - all bloody day long! Not content with a dobbin and cart they patrol the streets with a loud-hailer and a tuneless "Scrap-eye-earn" on an endless, amplified loop. No balloons either - turn your back for five minutes and anything metallic disappears into the cavernous maw of their truck: unwanted tat, discarded tools, old cookers, garden gates, drain covers, railway track, signal cable... you name it, they can sell it on for cash through a network of illegal, under the radar, scrap merchants.

Where there's muck there's brass and if you don't keep your eye on your belongings they won't belong to you much longer. It's not beyond the crafty tinkers to employ diversionary tactics either; while one knocks at your front door, another is in the back garden, hunting down anything of value to flog off. Which is much the same as the government appears to be doing this week...

Reduced to scavenging the diminishing national savings pile for any scrap of worth, the squabbling over [probably] unconstitutional Lords reform is diverting attention away from the rich pickings in your back yard. Just when you've finished pouring money into the pot and picked up the meagre pension you've paid for all your life. Just when you thought you had nothing of value to give away, look what they've found behind the greenhouse. Nick Boles wants to means-test the little extras that make life bearable for many senior citizens.

Of course, 'means-testing' doesn't mean that such small comforts will be taken away entirely from those who most need them. Yet. But it's a step on the way. As individuals learn the state can not be trusted to spend our taxes wisely - giving away a fortune to Europe, welfare dependency and NHS bureaucracy - those who are able will protect what they've got, while the rest will see their pitiful belongings scavenged by the rag and bone man of socialism, to recycle into votes.

Isn't it time to stand up to those who want to put the British virtues of thrift and fair play on the scrap heap? Do we really want it to be every man for himself? At this rate we'll all be saddling up Hercules and hitting the streets. (Baggsy I get to be Albert!)

Reet Elite

It's school sports day once again and in the last race of the day - the whole school hundred metre dash - all the children are neck and neck. Parents watch with baited breath as they near the finish line. Then, one child starts to edge ahead. The crowd lean forward in their seats and, as one, urge "Slow down! Slow down!" But it is too late and Johnny's mother hangs her head in shame as Fast Johnny breasts the tape ahead of the field.

She'd brought him up to  be equal. She'd been fierce in her determination for him not to excel in any endeavour. What mattered to her most in life was bringing up the perfect, equal child. After all her efforts, she just knew he had to be the ultimate - more equal than all the rest put together. But, despite her best efforts he'd shown himself up to be - she spat the word - elite!

The word 'elite' has recently gained new currency as the number one pejorative hate-label for anybody looking to lay blame for perceived injustice. Here it is levelled, probably correctly in this case, against bankers. But it is tossed around freely to refer to political and religious elitism whenever an argument needs to be won (or at least drawn!). In education, so corrosive a term has it become that we end up with today's story about 29-Resit-Boy and a pitiful indictment of the blind rejection of anything so repugnant as individual excellence - all must have prizes.

Conspiracy theories abound regarding shadowy groups like the Freemasons, Opus Dei and the sinister-sounding New World Order. Today's Lords reform debate originates from the same fear of the power of elites. The Left frequently conjoin the words to mint the phrase 'power-elite', making it sound all the scarier.

So, where where do you want to stop your elitism? Were you ever a Sixer in the cubs? Is a 'Team Leader' a symbol of an oppressive hierarchical society? How dare households have a head? How would 'first past the post' voting work? Or PR for that matter? And - this is crucial - who would lead the fluffy little ducklings all in a row to swim in the park pond?

We've just had Wimbledon. And footie's Euro 2012. Yesterday was the F1 British Grand Prix and this month London hosts the Olympics - the most blatant worship of elitism.in the world.

You want equality? Really?