People are terrified of the economy. They are angry at it also. They think the economy is an actual thing, tearing through the streets like some menacing antagonist in a 1980’s horror film. They think it is going to come in to their house at night wearing a mask made of their mum’s skin, wielding a sharp stick and making heavy breathing sounds. They think it is going to jump out at them as they wander down the world food aisle of their local Waitrose, give them a really nasty chinese burn and run away with the last tin of coconut milk.
Careful management of available resources. That’s what economy is. Surely that is what all of these political parties should be doing, carefully managing the available resources. They should work out what things cost, by that I mean the important things, such as health and social care, education, development and infrastructure and then pay for them. Unfortunately, it is not that simple and demand is far outweighing the supply.
The recent election was fought and won on each prospective candidate’s ability to ‘look after’ the economy, like it is a sick person that needs nurturing, or a problem child that is having difficulties at home. Those on the right believe the economy needs discipline. They think that it needs fingers pointing at it and a few stern words to stop it playing up. They have taken away its Xbox and demanded that it takes the bins out and tidies its room. Once it has proven it can take some responsibility for itself, they might give it an apple, or let it go outside and watch, not join in mind, the other economies playing with their micro-scooters and football stickers. They think that if they take away everything that it enjoys, it will slowly mature, becoming ever more passive and eventually be one of them. A waffling, shiny-faced, meat robot, with no morals but a great credit history. When in reality, it will arrive home after working a twelve-hour shift for minimum wage and cry itself to sleep, until it finally has the sweet relief of death.
Far on the left we have the other extreme. Some of them believe the economy needs a nice soft blanket, some pro-biotic yoghurt and a hat made from kale. Yeah, that’s what the economy needs, bifidus-digestivum and good vibes. They think it should be encouraged, like a child, who although might be terrible at drawing, quite likes drawing. The child may draw a dog that looks more like a hairy fire engine but they don’t want to hurt its feelings, so they stick the drawing on the fridge, ignoring the woeful use of colour and perspective, and tell the child they love it. They think that like the child, if you let the economy express itself, it will grow in to a well-rounded, thoughtful and compassionate individual. When in actual fact it will over indulge in its new found freedom and end up dying from an LSD induced, grey matter nosebleed at some sad folk festival in Lyme Regis, after spending the entire annual NHS budget on a vegan burrito and a wicked straw hat.
Obviously these are the extremes. Not everyone on the left is sat in an organic greenhouse knitting scarves from muesli. Similarly, not everyone on the right has a really shiny face, no, some of them have skin conditions which mean their faces are dry and have more of a flaky-paint texture to them. I don’t think the world should be like the opening number from a Disney film and, although the similarities are becoming more and more prevalent every year, we are not yet living in Orwell’s 1984. I just feel a bit ‘meh’ about it. I think we could and should be doing much better. I don’t want to get to the age of 65 and be living under a piece of tarpaulin next to the Poundbury by-pass and still have people telling me to work harder. Because if that happens I will snap, and that noise you hear will be me, breaking into your house, wearing your mother’s skin and wielding a massive pointy stick.
