Cute chicks going cheep

In these first happy, warm springtime days of March as we rush to pack away our winter coats and fleeces, our gloves and anti-chapping cream and hurriedly air out shorts and short-sleeved shirts and pull on lightweight summer trousers which seem to have shrunken somewhat around the waist since last year, there’s always the threatening thought at the back of your mind; the sure and certain knowledge that cold, rainy cheerless days will inevitably return again as the world turns and so we’ll have to put everything back again for April, May and June.

   It’s nice therefore to know that in the political world as in the English weather the presence of Nemesis follows our owners and leaders despite their famous PR skills and that acute political knowledge that is superior to the Neanderthal base that the Tories have abandoned in favour of the liberals of both Coalition parties. The Greatest Political Leader of All Time allows his dwindling domestic powers as chief executive of the province of Britain to oversee the design of stamps and to scuttle the Royal Navy to be sold cheaper by the hour than a celebrity performance of hit songs of the Eighties at some Saudi Prince’s private party.

As Melanie Phillips points out:

‘For £50,000 a year, members of the party’s Leader’s Group were invited to “join David Cameron and other senior figures at dinners, post-PMQ [Prime Minister’s Questions] lunches, drinks receptions and important campaign lunches”.

‘The Leader’s Group is the most exclusive of seven Conservative donor clubs. Founded when Mr Cameron was in Opposition…

‘A £25,000 donation earns membership to the “Treasurer’s Group” which offers the chance to meet lesser members of the Tory Cabinet. For £10,000 supporters can join the Renaissance Forum which offers the chance to circulate with “eminent speakers from the world of business”.’

You have to wonder what happens in the lower Bolgias of this, Mrs. Thatcher’s personal hell?

£20,000 will get you into the Championship where amid champagne and truffles public IT and engineering contractors can pledge their support for the mission and infrastructure design of the UK’s new joint Franco-French defence establishment.

For 20,000 Euros industrial leaders can sip schnapps and a variety of pure meat dishes with the Merkel Korps where in return for favourable nod to EU provisioning apparat they can promise their full support to Chris Patten in his ambition to make the BBC the institution that all rational people want it to remain.

£5,000 buys a place at the Legion des Regions where County and Constituency Tory Party Association chairmen dine at leisure with bankers and EU officials to carve out the next plan to snap up a formerly free European county on the cheap and mortgage its children’s lifetimes and its representative democracy to the greater glory of Liquidity and knighthoods.

A couple tons will get you to a posh do of the First Division Club where one of the Conservative Party’s licenced Eurosceptics will raise a laugh a minute over the back-room shenanigans in the House of Commons during the three line whip enforced against voting for a referendum over continued EU membership.

For 25 pounds sterling you can join the Conservative Party. Here you can: be ignored by the leadership forever more; get to buy your own food and throw it down after work before rushing off to spend endless unrewarding hours knocking on doors up and down the length of Britain in all weathers trying to persuade complete strangers that, contrary to all recent evidence, the Tories are the party of nation-state, the family, defence of the realm, free enterprise and law and order, and don’t you worry your pretty, empty little heads about policy. And the best of British luck to you if you do.

All Conservative Party social affiliates follow a strict dress code: Black tie, no casuals and no hope for voters. 

Picture from here.