Britain's first book blogger (November 2000)

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Pitiful discontent

May 3rd, 1979. Thirty years then since Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister. No memories. How can one have memories when nothing is over? I never believed one could despise a stranger any more than I did her: everything she stood for, everything she called forth, everything still infecting this paltry and wretched culture. At least, I thought, in the spirit of Elvis Costello's song, we had one gesture to make, to look forward to making. Now Tony Blair has stolen even her death from us.

1 comment:

  1. I always liked Jeremy Hardy's (wasn't it?) line, that Margaret Thatcher's grave will become a urinal for right-thinking people everywhere.



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