'Everything is broken'

Bob Dylan wrote this iconic song in 1989, when we may have thought everything was broken but we now know this was not the case. You received letters explaining things to you, businesses and government departments  answered phone calls and you didn’t feel you were being fucked over at every turn. Wind forward to today: Tyrants rule the world; robot AI politely tell you to “do one” and all departments are populated by certified idiots, who would find it difficult to open a crisp packet unaided. Into this visceral terrain, I waged war against my UK bank. I was Che Guevara and I was going to bring them to their knees through justice, Martin Luther King eat your heart out. Supported as ever by wife, who this time took the role of Fidel Castro. My bank said as you live abroad we are canceling your account. I screamed I’m British and fought them on the beaches and lost badly. 

They always know best and speak the truth. Not just the liar in chief in the White House but every one of them. Inflation is perfect deflection. Every time you go to the shops you feel physically robbed, mugged. When once you screamed, I’m home dear carrying eight big bags of delights, now for the same price you come back with one stale bread and cheese which you all have to eat tonight before the sell-by date goes. The news says you’re fine, it’s all getting better. It’s like the Monty Python parrot sketch. The shop owner claims the parrot he’s sold (read the economy) is alive, John Cleese the buyer states only because it’s nailed to the perch (read economy fine only because you say so), “what we have here is a dead Parrot” (economy). 

It is even seeping in here when once the shopkeeper with a pencil behind one ear could solve everything, even he can’t be everywhere. It is now the big companies and they are never wrong. My phone package had not been activated as it usually does and I received a bill with lots of 0’s at the end. “Yeah, we checked it out, we phoned you on.” (You have no record of that.) “Then we later spoke and told you to activate, we have a record of it.” “Can you share it?” “Oh, will look into it,” which means no. “Ok, let’s get it activated go on page BePop 34.” “What!” “At the top you will see a flashing purple bear.” “I can’t see one,” in a whimper. “Screenshot it.” “How?” “Just take a photo.” So I did. “That’s of your cat,” she returns it, the cat looks confused. “I don’t know what to do.” And there, they have you, they are like those spaghetti westerns, all shiny front but behind it is nothing but stashes of idle profit. If you have no financial clout, you are knocked out.

I think I will now converse with Fidel Castro (my wife) to see what our and your next move is.

(To never be continued as agreed by the Federal court ruling of NOW, Mr&Ms X vs the World.)