Red Rag

He’s probably damned whatever he does but the chancellor had Gordon doing his best yesterday to grab the headlines and deflect speculation about tax rises to changes in the way those taxes are scoffed from the MP’s trough.

I can’t help feeling that if the PM was serious about honesty then Jacqui Smith would be a backbencher and openness rather than restriction would be the proposal. Fat chance from a government who see legislation as the solution to everything - they fail to notice that some particularly unpleasant germs will always mutate to sidestep whatever antibiotic is thrown at them.

Whiter-than-white will need a bleach that kills all known germs, not something that leaves Brown stains in place.

‘The Red Rag’ website registered by one Ollie Cromwell (http://theredrag.co.uk) allegedly in order to spread malicious gossip about challengers to the labour party’s Right to control the country doesn’t have even one posting! But it does have a strapline: “…though cowards flinch and traitors sneer, we’ll keep the red rag flying here…”, a simple parody of a line from The Red Flag, the anthem latterly discarded by the labour party despite its steady progression into the ways of extreme communist regimes with their state police enforcing the prevention of peaceful protest, etc etc.

Different colours are ascribed to political persuasions and popular movements and I remain thankful that this code does not extend to olfactory stimuli because a scratch’n’sniff of the present government would undoubtedly invoke an emetic response.

No idea why this is here except for perversity. Damian McGroom’s idea to slur politicians on a blog called the red rag caught my ear and I thought ‘Red Rag’, that’s catchy, and yet redrag.org.uk and the less elegant theredrag.org.uk (there drag?) were available for registering and so I did…

Why make up stuff? The truth is awful enough! I have it on good authority that Boris Johnson’s hair is natural, and that David Cameron is married to his wife; no - his own, not Boris’s. Sorry for any momentary raising of the pulse just then.

Anyway, it’s time for bed, as Zebedee used to say.