I think Labour are going to do alright on Thursday, at least round here, and with alright meaning losing less seats than they thought. I don’t think the “punish Blair” meme is going to work out. Everyone knows he’s going anyway. It’s like when the nutter on the bus decides that his stop’s coming up. You just breathe a sigh of relief and let him get off.
The cultural change, which seems obvious now, is you transform from it being a set process in which the public service deliverer is in the dominant position to it being much more driven by the particular needs of the person to whom you're providing the public service, which then leads you into giving to all the public the choices which currently only the middle classes have in relation to the provision of vital services like health or education.”See what I mean about the nutter on the bus? It’s just babble.
Anyway. We had our local councillor round the other night, who knows Mrs Treasure vaguely. There’s some neighbourhood renewal funding going round, and more in jest than anything else, Mrs T said she’d vote Labour if he got her a hanging basket for the front porch. He pulled a notebook out ostentatiously and wrote “hanging basket” in it.
Ten minutes ago he came round with a hanging basket. So that’s one Labour vote in this household. I mean, she promised and everything. Me, I’d have held out for a bit of landscaping in the garden. He does bill himself as “your hard working councillor” on his election leaflet, after all. In the absence of this, or indeed of an actual political alternative, I cleave to the Lib Dems.
I bet there’s a lot of this stuff going on around the country: don’t just go local, go micro.
JUST for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat—
Or, indeed, a small item of garden furniture.