Urbane Man Column – Issue 32

What’s the world coming to when you can wake up and find your indestructible socks have developed holes in them, relegating their use to a casual marriage to slippers.

Such are the disappointments of believing in promises made by agencies we cannot wholly trust. A theme particularly relevant to the past year and the coming months. One thing we should be certain of is that we have had nothing to suggest that trust in politics and politicians of any persuasion can be counted on to tell us anything approaching a truth.

STUPID CULTS

A town’s obsequious waste of public space and funds has been attacked by critics and dilettante sceptics alike.

Going to greater lengths than they do for their constituents, the council of Somewhere-Over-the-Rainbow has erected a crass memorial to La-Di-Da, a person of ridiculous privilege whose cosmic lottery number was up a couple of decades ago. Apparently, although some criticisms are of an aesthetic, representational accuracy kind, the most vocal and essentially relevant, criticisms are of a more political and dignified nature.

“All the people, innocent, who have been persecuted by this system and its best of cash-strapped councils can do is show its communal arse whilst tugging its collective forelock to a figure whose clothing bill would have passed for a council’s annual budget is existentially obscene and cruelly anachronistic,” said a closet socialist and casual psycho-anthropological researcher in passing.

“It’s embarrassing and humiliating to see such dismal deference,” said a passing Deference Lawyer for No Whin, No Fiefdom plc, working out of a very sturdy and slightly waterproof cardboard box in downtown Penge.

A case of Penge is mightier than the greensward*, we think.

  • Notoriety is always more influential than grass roots issues and concerns. (This constitutes a reasonable and not condescending explanation for our parochial Englishness and indulgence+ that may compel the genuinely curious in our global readership to pursue the anachronistic dictionary of obsolete words and phrases in the English Language)
  • + Supplied by Disclaimers To The Gentry plc.

TRIUMPH OF MARKETING

Recently I read a strangely compelling biography of Danny Triumph. It is a riches to riches story of a self-obsessed, right-wing bigot. Born into a rich dynastic family, Dan wanted for nothing yet wanted everything in terms of money and power. All of his waking hours were preoccupied with efforts to make money and influence others into seeing that he got more money and power.

Very early on, Dan was tattooed on all four of his cheeks with a dollar bill sign in red, white and blue. It made it clear just what Dan stood for: his raison d’etre was there for all to see.

His father bailed him out when even the so-called free-market and consumers were telling Dan that he wasn’t the success he thought himself. But Dan was determinedly ignorant of his shortcomings and he ploughed his single-minded furrow and made it a trough at which he gorged.

Despite his egotistical myopia, Dan’s personal fortune grew higher than the hotels his companies raised, and so did his power and influence. He was even able to convince a public body to accommodate Dan’s quest for personal wealth. Instead of honouring its commitment to serve the populace, the public body failed to levy due taxes, consequently missing a public service opportunity to remind Dan of his lack of abilities as a businessman. This act of anti-democratic philanthropy mere fuelled Dan’s deluded egoism further.

The dismal and frightening result of this perverse opportunism is that Dan is now on the verge of realising his dream of being a self-confessed deity.

May the intellectual construct have mercy on our asses.

MAIL DOMINATION

Doesn’t it just fill you with joy to find your computer inbox bursting with enthusiasm?

Dozens of congrats, welcome bonuses, credit card pleas and prompts to bet on anything from the existence of alien ants in Biggleswade, to the remote chances of believing in yourself and others bristle with asterisks, daggers, parentheses and mock familiarity.

It’s a grand sight and feeling to know just how lackadaisical the DPA is when it comes to protecting our identity and sanity. It also fills us with dread to contemplate, even the moments it takes to consign these communications, so-called, that any of them has a desperate, sales-based human being associated with their dismal, demoralising, and wasteful guff.

 

 

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