Sunday, July 2, 2017

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Mayday Mayday Mayday

Anthony McIntyre searches for those who will be hardest hit by the DUP-Tory pact.

Watching the political North from Drogheda could be termed the loneliness of the long-distance analyst. It is like playing Solitary. Nobody else seems remotely interested. It is an indifference that is highly infectious.





It takes a lot of single-mindedness to maintain focus on the ennui entrepreneurs who have made long and profitable political careers from emitting the same old boring whine that we have by now grown  accustomed to. In some cases, the same people have been the public face of whining for around four decades. And the more they are offered the peculiar peace process phenomenon of penultimate deadlines the more they will play brinkmanship in the hope of yet another spin on the merry-go-round. It is an addiction for the type of whino against whom rehab would not stand a chance.

Deadline Day (they are yanking our chain) is tomorrow. Sinn Fein leader Gerry Adams laments the fact that the DUP:

are showing no urgency about dealing with the equality and rights issues, which caused the collapse of the political institutions. There is little prospect that they will do this before Monday.

Whether they do or they don't, as Leo Sayer once sang, The Show Must Go On. It can do nothing else. And the showmen and women will go on showboating with it. It is called processing.

It was only last night through watching The Handmaid’s Tale that I discovered the term Mayday was in fact an anglicization of the French m’aidez or m’aider, meaning ‘help me’. 

The imagination is quick to spot a double irony here. Britain is seeking to restore its former imperial “greatness” and prefix Britain with a “Great” that actually means something more substantive than a toneless chant by the terminally stupid at an English soccer match. While seeking to abandon Europe, the Brits are figuratively using an international distress call that has its origins in French, with France being one of the mainstays of the EU. Then there is the incongruence of an international distress call with its cosmopolitan intonation, being directed towards something as parochial as the DUP. 

In any event, the Mayday call has made Theresa’s day. She is now in bed with those who like their nookie but only when the lights are out so that the awkward joint between daylight puritanism and nighttime debauchery avoids exposure. As surely as day turns to night, somebody will get screwed. 

Although Adams has been keen to stress the impact on Northern nationalists, the people likely to be hardest hit by May's unholy alliance with the holier than thou mob are those on the bottom rung of the British social and economic ladder.  

Sammy Wilson may well have put on a showman's angry performance in the British House of Commons, stridently demanding to know what is grubby about a deal that increases public spending in the North. He would wouldn’t he. As has been observed elsewhere, if you rob Peter to pay Paul you can always rely on the support of Paul. 

Former journalist and current NHS junior doctor Rachel Clarke shows what is grubby about it and that the DUP-Tory pact is not a victimless crime.
The North of Ireland might be as British as Finchley but, with this sordid pact, it might not be as poor as Finchley.

1 comments :

Henry JoY said...

Remind me ... what was it that an exasperated John Bruton said about the 'Peace Process'?