On the pulse of an informed democratic electorate
Once again it’s time to join Noah Bode and Harry App in their local, The Purple Helmet.
Noah: D’you like that, you know, classical music?
Harry: Not likely, mate. Leave it out. Nah, s’not fer me.
Noah: What don’t yer like about it?
Harry: Well – long story short – yer don’t get yer money’s worf.
Noah: How do yer make that out?
Harry: There’s no singin’ in it.
Noah: There’s opera.
Harry: She doesn’t sing you plonker.
Noah: Who?
Harry: Oprah Winfrey. She just sits and talks ter peepull.
Noah: No….o-p-e-r-a, you dingbat.
Harry: Don’t fink so. I fink it’s o-p-r-a-h smartarse.
Noah: Right. Yeh. Thanks for setting me straight on that.
Harry: Sawright. I go online yer see. Learn a lot that way.
Noah: You do? Like what?
Harry: Wull, olive oil’s better for yer than Castrol.
Noah: Well o’ course it is shit4brains, Castrol’s poisonous, I mean…
Harry: No it in’t. I was watchin’ this Yank bird right and she said the olive oil was better for you and so it can’t be poisonous.
Noah: Just cos she said it?
Harry: No, cos she wan’t dead. Anyway it tastes ‘orrible but it dunt killya. My mum got it free on the National ‘ealth when she were a kid.
Noah: That’s Castor oil you wally.
Harry: Either way, I wouldn’t purrit in me motor.
Noah: Why not?
Harry: Be a waste of good olive oil wunnit? You’re feckin’ weird at times you are.
Noah: Nuvva Becks?
Harry: As it’s your round…
As Noah gets the drinks, wondering for the 793rd time why he has Harry as a friend, Harry picks up a copy of The Times from the bar
Harry: Sez ‘ere this Brexit’s causin’ volla’ivitee, and if we yer know Brexit an’ that, it’s gonna mean ozsteri’ee an’ all.
Noah:Yeh, well…..we’ve had austerity ever since Osborne took over the Treasury.
Harry: Blimey, they’ve privatised that now ‘ave they? Good fing too, they were never right about anyfin an’….
Noah: No….since George Osborne took over at the Treasury.
Harry: Oh. Right.
The two men sip their lagers. Noah spots a girl he knows and raises his bottle with a wink. Worryingly, Harry is thinking.
Harry: D’ye fink that’s why they call it austerity?
Noah: You lost me, ‘arry.
Harry: ‘appens to me all the time. I got one o’ them electric brains….
Noah: That’s eclectic , ‘arry…
Harry: Yurr. An’ I fink about evryfin all the time. That’s why uvva peepull right, seefingizzright, they can’t keep up wiv me.
Noah: It must be hard for you. Why do you think they call it austerity?
Harry: Cos Osborne invented it. Like, maybe e’ll go down on ‘istory as George Osteri’ee.
Noah: I don’t think Osborne invented it, mate. I think he just, yer know, thinks we gotta have it.
Harry: I ‘ear ‘e’s gorran habit an’ all….
Noah: Yeh, a habit of feckin’ up.
Harry: D’yer fink so? I mean, it’s not all bad izzit? I mean rich people ain’t got it.
Noah: I never thought of it that way.
Harry: I mean, ‘e ‘as ter go on what ‘is peepull tell ‘im, dunnee? They just give ‘im like ballpoint estimates….
Noah: Ballpoint estimates?
Harry: Thasright.
Noah: And he just kind of pencils them in does he?
Harry: Narr yuur gettin’ it. Course, high finance int fer evryone….
Noah: That’s because most of them haven’t got any money.
Harry:…and so most peepull dunt, seefingislike, see why we need ter get rid of regulation…
Noah: You don’t think we need some sort of regulatory model?
Harry: Well that Whittingdale bloke does, e’s got that Miss Whiplash annee, wurhey!
Noah: No ‘arry, I mean some legal rules to keep cheats and crooks in place.
Harry: But we already got one. S’called prison.
Noah: Yes, true, very true. But there aren’t any bankers in there.
Harry: Well o’ course there feckin’ aren’t, Prison Officers don’t get paid enough…I mean why would a rich banker wanna do that job? You do come art wiv…
Noah: No ‘arry, what I mean is, we need to put some bankers inside.
Harry: Ah, I gerrit: so they can privatise it? Good idea. But wunt that be insider tradin’?
Noah: It’s your round ‘arry.
Harry: Same again?
Noah: Please.
There will be more bulletins from The Purple Helmet in due course. In the meantime….
The Slog 