A Bit Mutton

Most of it I got, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the fuss was about skin care products.

On Saturday I took part in a protest march. One that I had been anticipating for some time. I was there.
As I draw nearer to claiming my pension I don’t really want some politician who is younger than I am, mocking me with a task resembling that of Sisyphus. Not when the boulder is near the top of the hill.
And of course I was nobly representing the interests of my younger colleagues.

There was also an element of recapture of youth. I went on several Marches in the early eighties. Jobs not bombs. Gay pride. Solidarity with the miners…
“Maggie Maggie Maggie Out Out Out!”
Not that the old milk snatcher paid any more attention to me than I honestly expect this lot will but it is important, if you can, to stand up and be counted I think.
As I wandered down through Covent Garden to the Embankment I could see that this was a big one though. I should imagine that motorists subject to congestion charging were quite justifiably, well…. charged I guess. They certainly weren’t going anywhere fast. Or even slowly. Or even anywhere at all really.

The crowd was huge. The police presence appropriate and very light of touch. The atmosphere was festival like and full of good humour and music. There were witty placards everywhere and lots of chanting. Leaflets were distributed and recycled. Drums were beaten. Marching bands marched. The horsemen of the apocalypse stalked Whitehall in theatrical display. Balloons were released. The tories were once again proclaimed evil incarnate. We hissed and booed the gates of Downing Street.
Eventually a crowd of quarter of a million people poured in to Hyde Park and queued up in a civilised fashion for the toilets!
It was in fact a privilege to be there as a participant and I shall hold the day fond in my memory. Baldrick indeed had a cunning plan

Most of it I got on some level.
Cut the nukes not the NHS.
Bring the troops back from Afghanistan.
Fight like an Egyptian.
Save fuel burn the rich.
Dykes in black say no.
Sophie and Lawrence against the cuts.
There were loads…..

The one I couldn’t figure though
As I passed by the house of parliament I swear I could hear them chanting.
“Leave Nivea alone”
I mean what was all that about……..