I think I've figured out how to destroy the Conservative Party. How to make their tiny inbred brains asplode so that we can move into their disproportionately huge Knightsbridge houses, roll around in all their leftover money, and ultimately become the very things we hate and thus let the cycle begin anew. It's ideologically unsound but it's a vocation, at least.
The trick is to make the Big Society actually work.
Nothing will make that oleaginous Etonian fuckface and his waxen-fizzoged fourth-form fag (I am convinced that Gideon Osborne is secretly an Auton) more angry than the sight of poor people getting on with their lives and being relatively comfortable. It is our moral duty to see that this is so. With any luck, we can make them all die from a combination of gout and hypertension. Let's let the retired colonels seethe themselves to death at the sight of poor people being happy.
The Big Society is, as everyone knows, a giant lie intended to make poor people suffer. Let's call their bluff.
Let's help those of our friends who need medical care. Let's set up charities and trusts for the disabled and the mentally ill. Let's generate community-based work programs directed at the unemployed with the goal of beautifying our townscapes. Let's do these things, not out of a sense of love for our fellow men (although feel free to do that if that's your bag; in which case, groovy), but because it will drive Cameron and his ilk into a full-on rage.
In ten years time, we'll be living in flower-bedecked, well-tended communities with neighbourly values and a functional system of socialized healthcare. They'll have gorgeous glass and steel towers in central London, but there'll be nobody there to clean their toilets or look after their children or work in their Starbuckses.
The societies that we form will actually work. Theirs will be hate-filled, conspicuous-consumerist hellholes full of rich people who sneer at their neighbours and fear everyone else. We will have good coffee and clean toilets. They will have large bank balances. Let's see which of us sleeps warm and cosy at night. And when they come crawling to us because they have terrible liver diseases brought on by overconsumption which we know how to treat, we shall say: sorry, you can afford private healthcare, thus you're not eligible.
Their children will be spoiled brats with an aristocratic sense of entitlement. Our children will know how to make stuff and do stuff. And when the class war finally comes between our two societies, it will be be fought by people who know how to shout orders on one side, and people who know how to make guns on the other. I predict it will last about twenty minutes.
Let's do it.
My editrix informs me that I should make the following clear: when I say
fag above I'm talking about the public-school sense and not with any reference whatsoever to homophobia. (Interesting, however, that the word
fag is a homonym.)
While I'm at it I should probably point out that the
good coffee in the socialist utopia described above almost certainly won't come from the former Starbucks workers previously mentioned, unless they can learn new skills on departing the Starbuckses (although the clean toilets possibly will). Good coffee by definition comes from other, non-Starbucks, coffee shops.