The General Mehlection

As outlined previously here, and reinforced by Obo and Charlotte Gore, the election campaign, now it is underway, has left me profoundly underwhelmed.

Dave’s not doing a bad job in stating his case, and what he lacks is much more than compensated by the revulsion imbued in me by the hysterical screeching preferred by the left, from Gordo all the way down. So there’s hope for the Tories yet. Perhaps Simon Cooke’s words yesterday had a persuasive effect on me. Or maybe the whole thing is just wearing me down.

I do know this: Having spent yesterday in the clutches of first the NHS and then HMRC, I have had a visceral and deeply unpleasant reminder of just how little the state, as Labour has shaped it, gives a fuck about us little people, and how much power and control is invested in the Napoleonic functionaries who sit their side of the divide. All with our money.

And I make no apologies for feeling entitled to more than average indignation, since I pay significantly more than an average amount of tax for a whole bunch of services that either I don’t use, don’t work, or are aligned contrary to my interests as a citizen, salary-earner and private individual.

This evening I shall mostly be reading my copy of the Spectator, and pondering the Dave question. Again. It shouldn’t be this way.




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