9th April 2013
Margaret Thatcher is dead. This has been expected for some time. I was never a fan, having been raised on a mixture of Christian charity and Socialist fair play, and arriving as Thatcher did in my postgrad year…well, we never hit it off.
Nothing matched a hearty chant of “Maggie-Maggie-Maggie ….. out-out-out” , and the sense of raw tribalism was stoked by the sight and sound of our citizens being attacked by ranks of shield-drumming policemen in riot gear……lest we forget, this same police force was deployed to attack, sorry, disperse, hippies at Stonehenge (Click here if you're too young to remember the Battle of the Beanfield)
Thatcher’s success depended on the corruption and ineptness of the Labour Party, who lacked the vision and cojones to hurl Barbara Castle at the leadership problem, and who went on to self-destruct in political exile before selling out completely under Bliar.
I feel my ancestors rearing up as I write this but I am slightly – regretful, not sad, that Margaret Thatcher is dead. She provided a focus for my spleen and a handy hook on which to hang the cause of all the world’s ills. Her existence allowed me the luxury of not having to think about it all down to the bottom and back up again. It was just easier to chant “Maggie-Maggie-Maggie ….. out-out-out” mentally across 34 years of adult life. With her gone, I may have to grow up, damn her.
The cartoon here, drawn by Carl Giles in a different political age, sums up my feelings quite well. Not rage, not hate, just - she got the last word in after all. Typical.
Margaret Thatcher is dead. This has been expected for some time. I was never a fan, having been raised on a mixture of Christian charity and Socialist fair play, and arriving as Thatcher did in my postgrad year…well, we never hit it off.
Nothing matched a hearty chant of “Maggie-Maggie-Maggie ….. out-out-out” , and the sense of raw tribalism was stoked by the sight and sound of our citizens being attacked by ranks of shield-drumming policemen in riot gear……lest we forget, this same police force was deployed to attack, sorry, disperse, hippies at Stonehenge (Click here if you're too young to remember the Battle of the Beanfield)
Thatcher’s success depended on the corruption and ineptness of the Labour Party, who lacked the vision and cojones to hurl Barbara Castle at the leadership problem, and who went on to self-destruct in political exile before selling out completely under Bliar.
I feel my ancestors rearing up as I write this but I am slightly – regretful, not sad, that Margaret Thatcher is dead. She provided a focus for my spleen and a handy hook on which to hang the cause of all the world’s ills. Her existence allowed me the luxury of not having to think about it all down to the bottom and back up again. It was just easier to chant “Maggie-Maggie-Maggie ….. out-out-out” mentally across 34 years of adult life. With her gone, I may have to grow up, damn her.
The cartoon here, drawn by Carl Giles in a different political age, sums up my feelings quite well. Not rage, not hate, just - she got the last word in after all. Typical.