News broke of 50 Tory MP’s who want a lottery funded Royal Yacht; yes, you heard correctly. These cretins would rather see her Majesty step aboard a shiny new boat than children step across the threshold of a brand-new home. This is the state of the United Kingdom in the 21st Century. Ever since the financial collapse of 2008 the Tories have had the public under the jackboot of austerity. While the rich get richer, send all their riches off to tax havens and sit back and wallow. The only consolation for the public, sickened by such greed, is the fact that these disgusting individuals cannot take their wealth with them when they go and shall have to answer to a higher power than those they answer to now. Which is most certainly not the public.
As the young take that tentative step onto the streets and feel for the first time the bitter cold of the winter, safe in the knowledge that their government in Westminster does not care if they live or die. As they lay down for the night. Their whole lives stretched out in front of them. The home they had, empty; ready for the next person, who is not under the Tory cosh, yet. As the new tenants look around the home and scoff at the mere surroundings of a young ambitious teen, whose only crime was to be poor and on benefits. And whom the Tories see as societies burden, aided and abetted by their chums in the media. Laughter rings out from within the home, the one they cared for, put everything into. A new person, with ambition, plans what wallpaper, paint, carpets. The young have no chance, in some parts of this union. As the Tories rip whatever future they had planned and take the future of their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers.
Thank god for the SNP here in Scotland. Thank god for the mitigation they are doing but there is only so much they can do with one hand tied behind their backs. There is always a unionist waiting in the wings to rip everything apart, like that poor fox on a Boxing Day hunt.
A Royal yacht, a clock, an ancient building, a palace, a weapon of mass destruction that must be renewed. Material things, all. That is what the Tories are about, what they have always been about.
Night falls on the last remnants of 2017, the bitter cold seeping into the bones of young and old alone, asleep on the street, a foot is exposed, frozen in time. Eyes closed a head exposed, lying by the bin, thrown out like the rubbish. A person in Tory Britain, young, and very, very dead!