My regular commenter, JK, is what is known in country house circles as 'a treasure'. I look upon him as m'butler, you know, a sort of Carson to my Lord Downton. He discreetly shadows my every step picking up my unconsidered trifles and then, with a modest cough behind a white-gloved hand, he produces them miraculously when they are needed. Thus it was that in a comment discussion yesterday he remembered - how does he do that? - a brilliantly elegant and incisive post of mine - sorry did you wish to say something? - written almost exactly four years ago! Quite extraordinary because I can't remember what I wrote four days ago!
It was a post in which I wondered whether David Cameron, then leader of the faux-Tory party in opposition, would turn out to be a Hamlet or a Coriolanus. Of course, being a bit pedantic on Shakespearean matters, I was quick to point out that the popular opinion of Hamlet as being indecisive was, like most popular opinion, completely wrong but for the purposes of my post I would go along with it. Well, now we know, he is neither of those two great but flawed heroes, instead he is more like the Duke of Venice in Measure for Measure, a well-meaning chump incapable of running a piss-up in a brewery!
All of that brings me to my e-pal, Able, whose exposed nerve-endings I touched, well, bashed, apparently, by referring to UKIP candidates as "mouth-foaming loonies". That strained even his extra-large amiability and led to a comment which verged on the disrespectful - yes, I know, to me, a latter-day Lord Downton! Fortunately, Carson, ooops, sorry, I mean JK, stepped in and reminded me of old times when commenters here at Downton, er, Duff & Nonsense knew their places in the natural order of things. As it happens, the phrase "mouth-foaming loonies" was, so to speak, a bit of a throw-away line and in retrospect I wish I had done exactly that! Yes, probabaly UKIP does possess a slightly higher than average number of ab-, sub- or even para-normal members but that is because they are still imbued with enthusiasm verging on idealism, something the members of other parties lost years ago. I am in favour of enthusiatic idealism provided it is married to cynical operation which is an exceedingly tricky skill to master. Mr. Farage has it in spades but I'm not too sure the remainder of his party share his intelligence. In the unlikely event that UKIP ever reached positions of power I fear that those master manipulaters in the civil service would eat them for breakfast.
But, on Thursday we are not voting for a national government, only for various local authorities. Thus, as I said in my previous post, we have the chance, with very little downside risk, to send a clear message to our less than glorious leaders, in particular, D. Cameron Esq. Let the true-Tory vote (and a wedge of Labour, too) give Farage and his 'enthusiasts' a tremendous victory, the pressure waves from which will instantly flatten every glass of champagne at Tory Central Office.
Anyway, dammit, I have just spotted one of those impertinent canvassing Johnies approaching m'front door, time for me to change into m'shootin' togs, I think, now where's m'butler, J.K. Carson? (Oh dear, Andra, m'housekeeper, informs me that he has gone up into, er, 'them thar hills', can't imagine why!)
