Castles in the Air

The call to my sister and news of her working for six pounds an hour and the poor don't really get much richer, the bluff and hype from people of the crudest half education that I am confronted with; England does, indeed, flatter to deceive and it is not a kick in the arse off of Berlisconi's Italy in the business of selling castles in the air. One is reminded of a speech Niel Kinnock once gave to the Labour Party Congress, where he ranted on about how you could no longer talk about taking the worker out of his misery when that worker had a video recorder as well as annual holidays on the Costa del Sol and now its Costa Coffee and cafe latte, cappuccino, MP3 players, latest mobile telephone and up to your eyeballs in debt, the "panem et circenses" has taken on a new dimension and one could wallow in the bliss that ignorance affords us and sup one's coffee in contentment if it were not for the fact, that the Costa closes at seven p.m.
Georgia has disappeared from the front page of 'the Guardian' and there is a surrealness about life in Uxbridge. In a sense I am standing at a distance observing and the opening scene of '1984' comes to mind when the citizens of Oceania scream out in support of their leader Emmanuel Goldstein and the "always" war against East Asia. Maybe there isn't a place called Georgia and maybe the Russians didn't really invade it but then maybe I am just very tired and it is time to go to bed and anyway the article on Madonna at fifty, the search for Mandy or the girl with the big tits on page three is more important anyway.