I see a man in a suit, sporting a fresh glow courtesy of his recent vacation in Ibiza, flexing his fingers as he scans over the horizon. All this is mine, he thinks. I own the very air you’re breathing, peasants.
Whenever I hear David Cameron’s name in passing conversation or see a flash of his face on the news amidst updates on pending budget cuts, a little part of me dies. I catch a shiver and feel my skin prickle up into goose-flesh, as if I’m having an immediate and profound allergic reaction to all the bullshit he’s churning out of his think-tank.
I think of all the people out there condemned to a poorer quality of life as a result of this man’s actions and vision of the future. It’s more than just an inherited ideology, bestowed upon him by Conservative ancestors. It’s a personal vendetta. And the people that he will affect but never acknowledge beyond the cameras pre-election are the ones who will harbour the hatred until the time comes for them to bequeath this responsibility unto their children. Be it the haggard looking roamers who scurry through the waste bins at the back of work every day or the stressed out single parents who, buckling under the weight of providing for a child, sacrifice sanity. I think of many of my friends who, alike myself, face a future of paying off extortionate tuition fees with the looming pressure of sky-high unemployment rates and few post-graduate opportunities related to chosen courses outstretched before them, too. Even the lifeless bodies of migrants bobbing in the murky waters of the Mediterranean. We’re all people who are trying to make it. Make it to the next rung of the ladder career, make it to a stable housing arrangement and most importantly, make it in terms of satisfying the most primitive needs we have as human beings. Right now we’re in the eye of the storm- the rights to sustenance and security are being dragged from beneath our feet. Perhaps it seems as though I’m being a tad unfair in assigning the sole blame to Mr David Cameron for the above examples and various others implied, but perhaps he ought to remove the massive bullseye that is his face if he wants to avoid criticism. Blame it on the immigrants, blame it on your next door neighbour Paul, blame it on the festering condition that is humanity but never the rich folks who cement the divide in the UK.
You may note a little hostility in my tone and you would be right to pick up on this as I honestly don’t understand how we’ve all come to find ourselves in this current situation. It’s not that I’m skeptical about Cameron’s academic accolades and generic ‘I went to Eton and I rule’ stance or his promise to deliver. He didn’t waste any time in trying to abolish the human rights bill or resurrect fox hunting, after all…
I understand that he is, in many ways the perfect higher class, white male candidate to represent the voice of those who have voted for him (incidentally, pre-dominantly other higher class, white males). He’s loyal to his band of brothers, all whom share the same designer ties, distaste for the commoners of the North and the finest wines. May they all rejoice together. Well done, douchebags. Yes you, for making all those ‘silly’ post-apocalyptic, dystopian novels of my childhood another step closer to being a reality.
For those who can afford the healthcare projections when the NHS is privatised, all is well. For those who aren’t bed-ridden with life-threatening diseases and yet sentenced to work simultaneously, all is well. For those reliant on the BoD, with the sort of family name to guarantee financial support till the end of days, all is well. My confusion is mainly directed towards the ‘youths’ who chose to waste their votes on him. Is all well for you? Do you regret your decisions? Do your friends thank you for contributing to the scrapping of maintenance grants?
No, seriously. Email me some responses, I genuinely want to know…
Some people have taken their persistent disappointment with politics and politicians and used this to fuel their disenfranchisement, completely and utterly disconnected themselves from the world of politics altogether. I understand, I really do. I don’t believe in the MP’s who supposedly represent us as ‘we’ the people, either. To politicians, we are statistics. Simply numbers. That’s what it feels like. Every time a change is implemented with the potential to increase poverty or deprive those with lower-income, politicians see a rise in numbers whilst I note the growing financial and emotional problems amongst family and friends. I watch those around me succumb to the pressures of acquiring/maintaining a job and sacrifice social lives in favour of over-working on zero hour contracts. I listen helplessly as good friends, the best of friends, casually talk about their reliance on the NHS and how this relationship is going to change over the next few years. I watch on as people take the safer route in life because they’re scared of the risks they’ll be taking if they conjure up the will to pursue their dreams. The risk of poverty and lifelong debt looms over us all like the fattest, grey cloud you’ve ever seen.
Admittedly, I see a glimmer of hope in a certain Mr Corbyn because refreshingly, he discusses ideas and not people (even whilst his own party continue to attack him because they’re utter morons). Whilst I’m sleep deprived and wasting my time writing this up/visualising David Cameron in armour and partially morphing into the backdrop of Westeros as a psychopathic ruler, Corbyn is out there rallying much needed support so that he might stand a chance of opposing these ‘soft boiled eggs in shirts and ties’ (as Everything Everything have so artfully stated on ‘No Reptiles’).
Maybe it’s time we ought to start making them look, at us, at themselves. Maybe we should work more at making the line between ‘them’ and ‘us’ thinner until we can just erase it with a cheap rubber from Wilko’s. Maybe we should just say to them, ‘Look at us and the despair you’ve caused and help us find ways to change this. If not because you’ve suddenly realised you can feel, at least out of fear, because a revolution of angry people are drumming up the knowledge and power every single day in efforts to abolish the media-fed propaganda you’re stuffing down our necks.’. You know, something friendly.
Or maybe something more morbid but impacting like, ‘Maybe it’s time you looked at the commonalities we share- The black hole from whence we came and the end of the tunnel towards which we are headed. The sweet solace of impending death. Impending more-so because of you’.
Maybe, just maybe, if some brain cells rubbed together and a spark of compassion was ignited in the stone cage that rattles in Cameron’s chest and he reversed some of his ridiculous notions, we’d all be happier people.
I think y’all should treat yourselves to a glass of wine if you’ve persisted in reading this, I sure am.