Thursday, 31 January 2008
snouts in the trough
As everyone in any kind of business knows, this time of year is a bit light on the old cashflow.
Christmas debt, credit crunch, sub-prime shitters, whatever, choose your poison.
So with a lack of gold and a heavy heart, I have by turns been chained to the easel and the laptop all week trying to eleviate the fiscal freeze.
It would appear, that despite my best efforts to turn an honest coin, I am barking up the wrong cashpoint...............(if you'll forgive a mixed metaphor).
What I need is to do is get elected, or maybe become a peer.
I was bombarded with T.V. adverts throughout the festive period and into January.
What about ?..............to make sure I got my self assesment tax form in on time.
No fucking wonder, with all those salaries to pay for the kids at Uni, and wives "working" for their M.P. husbands, they need to get their cash flow up !
I'd like to see what they declare as taxable income. Wankers.
Of course, if you are a member of the Upper House you just do a few introductions.
Facilitate a nice warm handshake between an arms dealer and the MOD procurement chappy, and Bob's your uncle, nice little tickle, Antigua here we come.
Instead of feathering his own nest that fucker ought to spend his time sorting out a good deal on body armour for the lads in Iraq and Afghanistan............or maybe a nice big order of top quality Union Jack's for the boxes they keep coming home in.
A particularly amusing line on Radio 5 yesterday came from a Labour MP trying to convince the listeners and the program host, that our Parliamentary representatives employ their wives because they work so hard, for such long hours that it's the only way to avoid marital breakdown.
So I suppose the poor Donkeys of the chattering classes all go home on time every night then do we ?
Pull the other one, it's got fucking bells on.