You don’t hear much from the unemployed and the poor in our culture, because they have been cut loose from society. Unless you are in the mire, you don’t see or hear anyone else in the mire. You are Mick Philpott, you are an illegal immigrant, you are a chav or a scrounger. You may be “hard working family”, you may even be part of “Alarm Clock” Britain, but you disappear from Britain until you trouble the courts.
This is Margaret Thatcher’s legacy. The price we pay for turning us over to the markets, is the criminalisation and alienation of a whole generation of our friends, family, colleagues and neighbours. It didn’t matter if they were trampled to death at Hillsbrough, if they got uppity you could stove in their heads at Orgreave. Put Jimmy Savile in charge of them in the mental hospitals, put Tarzan in charge of Liverpool.
It shouldn’t surprise anyone that when she died the fist fights would start again in the rhetorical car parks when she died, there has been no truth and reconciliation for us.
What does that MEAN Albert? (Where is that AT?) 