Note 1: Eric Blair meets Tony Blair
Eric Blair, otherwise known as George Orwell, had much fun writing about totalitarians enforcing different, often diametrically opposite, meanings of words.
Tony Blair, otherwise known as Anthony, was one of those aspiring totalitarians who made Orwellian satire redundant by enforcing his own version of PC vocabulary.
Now Dave has outdone both Eric’s fantasy and Tony’s reality. His government has drawn up official legal guidance ‘clarifying’ the meaning of such highly controversial words as ‘husband’ and ‘wife’.
Actually these words were regarded as fairly straightforward for the first millennium of the English language, but they no longer are. You see, the previous 50 generations assumed, wrongly as it happens, that marriage united in holy matrimony a man and a woman.
Now that backwardness has been expunged, the use of such words has to acquire a new flexibility.
Hence the guidance: “This means that ‘husband’ here will include a man or a woman in a same sex marriage, as well as a man married to a woman. In a similar way, ‘wife’ will include a woman married to another woman or a man married to a man.”
The lifelong champion of progress in me rejoices – that is until he, the champion of progress, is slapped in the face by a piece of blatant discrimination creeping into the guidance:
“The term ‘husband’ will in future legislation include a man who is married to another man (but not a woman in a marriage with another woman).” Two people living together as each other’s wives is rather odd, wouldn’t you say? Clearly more work is needed – Dr Johnson, ring your office.
One can only suggest that this semantic revolution ought to gather speed. The word ‘Dave’ should now also stand for ‘spiv’, but the word ‘spiv’ can have a broader meaning than just ‘Dave’, also to include ‘George’, ‘Nick’, ‘Vince’ and – for old times’ sake – ‘Tony’.
Note 2: The burgers of Westminster
Being prolier than thou is de rigueur for our leaders, especially those who were born with silver utensils in their various orifices.
Thus George Osborne, now also known as ‘spiv’, has to spend as much time on downplaying his poshness as he devotes to his day job.
Yet he must also convey the impression that his day job receives his undivided attention.
The day before he unveiled his spivocratic budget George decided to kill two birds with one meal.
To that end he tweeted a picture of himself at his desk late at night putting the finishing touches on the budget (day job) and scoffing a burger out of a polystyrene box, with a packet of greasy chips and a diet cola close at hand (man of the people).
Alas, George was to find out the hard way that those who live by spin will die by it. The papers quickly cottoned on to the fact that George’s repast came from a faux prole Waterloo burger place called Byron – not from any of the three McDonald’s shops that are closer to 11 Downing Street.
And, shock horror!, George didn’t get much change out of a tenner for his dinner – that, even though a Mickey D burger costs an impeccably populist 99p.
Now any sensible man would have responded to accusations of burger poshness by saying that, as someone on a salary of £134,565 a year, he can afford to spend £10 for dinner. And anyway, it’s none of anyone’s business what he eats.
But a man capable of such a response wouldn’t tweet a photo of himself playing prole. So George put his foot deeper in it by saying that the only reason he preferred Byron to McDonald’s (which he would otherwise dearly love, this being his favourite food) is that the latter doesn’t deliver and the former does.
Turns out George dug a hole for himself and sank into it by lying: as the tabloids have pointed out, Byron doesn’t deliver either.
In fact, George sent an aide to get his meal from Waterloo, and I bet the aide neither walked there nor went by public transport. So add another £15 for a round-trip taxi ride or even more for a limo – the hole is getting deeper and deeper.
Note 3: Dave’s marriage tax
Having done his best to destroy the institution of marriage with one hand, Dave is now going to throw a bone to married people with the other.
Soon – very soon! – married couples of any of the three or four known sexes will receive a whopping tax break equalling about £120 a year on average.
That means the husband/wife or wife/husband can treat him/her/itself to a Byron burger once a month – presumably provided they promise not to tweet pictures of themselves devouring the treat.
The move, which Dave resisted for years, is being hailed as yet another blow struck for the institution of holy matrimony that Dave holds in such high esteem that he wants to extend it to the entire animal kingdom.
Job done. Dave can now hide the bottle of Roederer Cristal, or whatever he drinks at home when no one’s looking, and take a convoy of armoured cars down the pub.
Nothing Dave likes more than a Goode Auld pint consumed in an intimate setting shared with George, their bodyguards, 100 paparazzi and half a dozen TV crews.
Oh well, I’d better stop before I do end up in a madhouse. Anyway, my husband Penelope tells me lunch is ready.