My little Jack Horner,
I’m so sorry, but despite your attempts to block the publishing of the figures on Britain’s gap between the rich and the poor (even though at the time you were in talks with the UN about how to tackle world hunger) those figures have somehow come out anyway, and unfortunately, it’s been revealed that in the space of just a few short years of Tory rule, Britain has sharply plummeted to become the most unequal country in the Western world, with an economic divide as wide as Nigeria’s. The gap between the rich and poor is wider now than any time since the war. Apparently, according to the UN report, the poor in Britain now have to live on much the same incomes as their equivalents in Hungary and Korea.
Unfortunately, among the normal gelatinous pleb mass, this is actually treated as bad news.
I know, totally bonkers! It may be just the top 1% that are making money hand over fist, but it’s them who are boosting the economy, actually doubling growth in the last quarter, and driving Britain to a brighter financial future. The bottom feeders may be suffering a heavy drop in living standards and might be having to give up little luxuries like food and shelter, but it’s all necessary to get the economy moving again. Is Peter from Poole – struggling to pay his council tax while holding down a zero-hour contract job in Sports Direct – generating GDP? Is Charlotte from Chipping Norton – struggling to pay the bedroom tax – who spends all her time caring for her useless disabled partner, in any way helping Britain win the global race? No. As you so rightly proclaimed in the last PM’s Questions session, “Britain is getting stronger.” And it’s not because of Charlotte and Peter, it’s in spite of Charlotte and Peter.
You just ignore those naysayers, my love. Sacrifices just have to be made. In hard times, it’s really survival of the fittest. The economic figures (the only thing that truly matters) will continue to get better. The rich will thrive. The poor will perish.
Just as long they don’t do it on your lawn.
P.S. Oh dear. Nick’s on the phone again. He likes to call Auntie Katy. Mid-life crisis, you see. Nothing he does seems to matter or make a difference blah-de-blah, etc. Yawn. Bless him.