Eat the rich
There's only one thing that they're good for
Sometimes life works out in the way you hope it will, but it simultaneously manages to muck up your plans. Before boarding my flight to Torino last week — on the day that Makerfield was deciding whether or not Nigel Farage would become the next British prime minister — it struck me that I had been in Turin for a conference on 23 June 2016, the day the UK committed national suicide via the Brexit referendum. I’d assumed that the far-right would win in Manchester last week, and had planned a newsletter all about depressing synchronicity.
So on the one hand, yay! The far-right lost and my country has bought a temporary stay of execution from fascism!!! But on the other hand, WTF am I going to write about this week? (Also, are we just delaying the inevitable? Modern Britain is full of angry people who are turning to darkness and I don’t think Andy Burnham has any hope of changing that particular trajectory unless he finds the billions of pounds we need to try and restore living standards to pre-2008 levels.)
