At the End of the Day

Can’t tell truth from fiction? Can’t tell news from spin? Convinced that all will be well in the end? Looking for clues about a safe passage through the heavily mined quicksand with which you appear to be surrounded?

Cue clues….

How convenient. The man behind the mask there is Michel Barnier. He has immunity to Covid19 and isn’t remotely infectious. So he wears a mask. Perhaps he just likes wearing a mask. Or perhaps he is Butch Cassidy intent on robbing the gravy train.

Aaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…the old ones are always the best….ooooohoohoohooohooooohahahaha, sorry, the spin is trickling down my leg.

That’s more like it….back to neocon Earth with Boris the Spider.

Within hours? Get a grip, Georgina – we spit on hours. Let’s aim for minutes. I mean, what is the point of wasting time in this, our fight against the Grim Reaper and his razor-sharp blade cutting down 64 people per hundred thousand?

Well of course it is. With the world economy screwed longterm by finacialising crooks and short-term by the vaccinating Pharmafia, it is your duty, fellow citizens, to keep on ploughing your diluted money into an overvalued stock market, doing a buy-buy dance every time there’s a vaccine breakthrough, and ignoring gold which (as we all know) is already over-hyped.

And just to be on the safe side, keep wearing that mask: it won’t keep so much as a mild cold at bay, but it will be 43.2% effective at dulling the smell of bullshit.

I’m now going to segue into a family anecdote, the point of which will become clear. Apologies in advance to antique Sloggers who may well have read it before.

My Catholic grandfather Aloysius Ward was gassed and captured by the Germans during the First World War. A cabinet maker by trade, the only time he left the UK was to fight against foreigners – about whom he knew nothing….despite being a highly intelligent man.

Shipped up to a POW camp near Munich, on the first Sunday morning Aloysius stood to attention as a German Oberleutnant entered the prisoners’ hut and said, “All Catholics please take one step forward”.

There was a degree of hesitation – Al knew more than enough about being a religious minority to be scared – but he thought, to hell with it, I will not deny my loyalty. So he ventured forth, and at the same time, three other blokes did the same.

“Komm mit,” ordered the German, and they marched into the local town where – on arriving at the Catholic church, the four brave men were invited to take part in the Mass, and then visit the confession box.

All this achieved, they walked back towards the camp, and their captor asked the men if they fancied a beer. They entered the local pub and got more than slightly deranged on Bavarian lager.

As my grandad told the tale some fifty-eight years later, “D’yer know – the funny thing was – the following Sunday, there were thirty-two catholics in the regiment”.

I offer this nice little memory as an example of the bravery involved with truth, and lies told for advantage.

But here’s the difference: a hundred and four years on, there is no person of influence in First World public life to step forward and state What Is. And the harmless lies of those with less courage are now jet-black lies that go unpunished.

Sleep well.