Okay, I didn’t manage it. Did not publish 25 Advent blogs between 20th and 25th December, as I suggested I would, but I have three things to say in mitigation.
Warning: this post is devoid of arithmetic and logic. Its results cannot be relied upon.
Firstly the target was wrong. As discussed around the Christmas Dinner table when I was lucky enough to be with my ‘family bubble’ this Christmas Day, Advent calendars generally have only have 24 days. So, there is should not be and will not be an Advent blog day 25.
Secondly, life got in the way and that’s a good thing.
Thirdly, I am not defeated yet. I have given this blog the Advent Day Number 18 of the (exceptionally-belated) series. Though I have now run miles past the day we all call Christmas, every day is an advent to something new.
I realise none of this makes sense but just imagine I’m a politician attempting to fool you with lies, not to believe the evidence of your own eyes, and allow me to get away with it, as they invariably do due to our complacency.
Thank you in advance for agreeing to do that. This political chicanery is easier than I first thought!
Oh, and given the records of our most recent Prime Ministers to mislead and destroy the country, I leave you with my poetic reminder of one of the most efficient our country has ever known. This poem appears in the December (Thatcher) Issue of The Angry Manifesto, edited by Matt Duggan and Des Mannay.
Irony Lady Once upon a time in Britain the very idea of a woman doing the job would have drawn derision Now I am neither misogynist nor Nostradamus sir but all those years ago when the doorstep canvasser presumed - We can surely depend upon your support We are the party for the upwardly mobile you sir - I do not know what made me say - Not with That Woman in charge, she’ll lead us to war - but I did The canvasser shook his head, smiled and said - The old enemies have gone, with whom should we pick a fight? - but she did You can call it a Conflict if you like - a killing by any other name still stinks of blood She really made us travel for that battle Bent and broke the rules to make it happen Argie-bargie, mano a mano? Ask the ghosts of the Belgrano? The greatest PM of the century? I think not. Performing minor miracles? The miners would disagree - though she did black-magic all sorts of unexpected from her blue handbag Not just war in time of peace Investors caught on bullish horns Disappearing roofs in property booms The loss of everything in pursuit of gain Division of brothers on an industrial scale Dominatrix seeks reward for sadomasochistic pain No to milk and education should have signalled things to fear Weeks after a friend’s assassination mention of that friend felt insincere amid a wild-eyed selective rendition of part of Saint Francis’ prayer All these before are symptoms of an incurable condition - Maggielomania or the delusion that you are a female God - which made her go further than any male politician to prove she was at least as flawed