Here far from the day to day concerns of the right honourable Larry the Cat, I understand that in things mundane and amongst the power structures of the most noble erudite and omniscient Patricians, I have little or no significance. I have no power, no wealth, and no influence. I am a pleb and a prole. I have squandered my minor status an intellectual, to be a gardener.

This afternoon I spent two hours with my plumber’s rods unblocking our blocked sewage system. I have done it before and it saves hundreds of Euros. It is not beneath me to get the odd spatter or two of shit on my face. Sewerage systems off the grid are prone to blockage.

In my eyes I can see clearly the misuse of manipulation in politics and in advertising. We might call it product promotion, sending a clear message but it is attempted manipulation. To pitch to the lowest common denominator is the skill of those seeking power over. I see black magic not Milk Tray.

My own personal most distasteful thing ever is the “levelling up” tautology. How utterly condescending. We have fucked you over for decades, we shall bung you a few quid, if you vote for us. This kind of Westminster-Eton-Winchester-Charterhouse-Oxford thinking is skewed. Thou, oh ignoble northerner, mayest have but a few scraps from our high table at high tea. Please pass the scones Matron.

It is my feeling that the UK {England} is getting ever more delusional. Sinn Féin and the SNP don’t have to do much. Their work is being done for them.

On many levels I am not in any way significant.

On other planes, perhaps I am.

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