Here is a snapshot of modern British Society.
On the main street of the City where I live is a UKIP poster, the poster has a series of photographs of leading politicians, each figure has been gagged with gaffer tape and the caption of the poster, says:
Giving Britain it's voice back.
However the ungagged picture of Nigel Farage has been subtly altered with the addition of a small, toothbrush mouustache over his upper lip.
No comment was needed, the subtly amended photograph says it all.
However that is not the snapshot I meant.
Rather, on the opposite side of the road, a little way out of the City is a brand new car wash.
Today I decided to use it, it having been recommended to me by a neighbour.
There is no machinery. There are however buckets and hoses and mops and spray lances and chamois leathers and soap and and the whole operation is carried out by hand by a work force, singing as they wash and wax and polish.
It could almost, in the sunshine we enjoyed today, have been a Hollywood Movie or perhaps a Disney Musical, Hey Ho.
At one point there were two young men working on the passenger side and two working on the drivers side, singing as they worked.
Once the car was considered suitably clean I was ushered forward to another bay where another four people took on the slightly more envious task of polishing off, and here we moved on from Disney to the Karate (polish on, polish off) Kid, franchise.
At the end of the time the car looked cleaner than the day it was delivered and the price list for this service ranged from £5 for small cars, £6 for medium cars and £8 for large cars.
Thinking back to the poster I had passed earlier I found myself thinking about tomorrows European and Local Council Elections.
My car wash, is a litmus test for all politicians, gagged or graffiti'ed.
First, we have an economy where it is cheaper to employ people to 'hand wash' your car than it is to invest in the high cost of the machinery needed to be installed for what until recently was the usual self service car wash.
Hand Washing was something that Boy Scouts did during Bob a Job Week.
Secondly, I have no idea of the country of origin of the young men and women who washed my car, it was difficult to keep the window open to engage them in conversation what with the detergent, water, and wax that was being sprayed on my windscreen and side windows.
However, it seemed, to me, that at least a percentage of the workforce were, as Nigel Farage might observe, were engaging with each other and singing in a language other than Cumbrian.
But the cars they were washing were in many cases new, in other cases top of the range, for the 10 or 15 minutes we were there, I counted two Porsche and a Range Rover, so whatever was being shared between the workforce in a language that had something of the vorsprung durch technik about it, it was obvious that a new variation on the American Dream had gripped parts of Eastern Europe and people were here, enjoying a freedom and mobility that allowed them like Dick Whittington to set of and make their fortunes.
Thirdly, as tomorrow we cast our votes to determine who will represent us in Europe, I can only hope that we will have sense to vote for people who will work to promote and strengthen the Union, encourage open frontiers, welcome people into our City as we would wish to be welcomed into theirs.
We need to ungag the politicians and make it clear by our vote that we remain committed to a greater and more peaceful Europe in the years to come, because otherwise the graffiti'ed image of Mr Farage will remind us of Brecht's the Rise and Fall of Arturo Ui and the last line of that tragi - comedy, The bitch that bore him is in heat again.
We need to also remember that the full title of Brecht's Play is The resistable rise ......
On the main street of the City where I live is a UKIP poster, the poster has a series of photographs of leading politicians, each figure has been gagged with gaffer tape and the caption of the poster, says:
Giving Britain it's voice back.
However the ungagged picture of Nigel Farage has been subtly altered with the addition of a small, toothbrush mouustache over his upper lip.
No comment was needed, the subtly amended photograph says it all.
However that is not the snapshot I meant.
Rather, on the opposite side of the road, a little way out of the City is a brand new car wash.
Today I decided to use it, it having been recommended to me by a neighbour.
There is no machinery. There are however buckets and hoses and mops and spray lances and chamois leathers and soap and and the whole operation is carried out by hand by a work force, singing as they wash and wax and polish.
It could almost, in the sunshine we enjoyed today, have been a Hollywood Movie or perhaps a Disney Musical, Hey Ho.
At one point there were two young men working on the passenger side and two working on the drivers side, singing as they worked.
Once the car was considered suitably clean I was ushered forward to another bay where another four people took on the slightly more envious task of polishing off, and here we moved on from Disney to the Karate (polish on, polish off) Kid, franchise.
At the end of the time the car looked cleaner than the day it was delivered and the price list for this service ranged from £5 for small cars, £6 for medium cars and £8 for large cars.
Thinking back to the poster I had passed earlier I found myself thinking about tomorrows European and Local Council Elections.
My car wash, is a litmus test for all politicians, gagged or graffiti'ed.
First, we have an economy where it is cheaper to employ people to 'hand wash' your car than it is to invest in the high cost of the machinery needed to be installed for what until recently was the usual self service car wash.
Hand Washing was something that Boy Scouts did during Bob a Job Week.
Secondly, I have no idea of the country of origin of the young men and women who washed my car, it was difficult to keep the window open to engage them in conversation what with the detergent, water, and wax that was being sprayed on my windscreen and side windows.
However, it seemed, to me, that at least a percentage of the workforce were, as Nigel Farage might observe, were engaging with each other and singing in a language other than Cumbrian.
But the cars they were washing were in many cases new, in other cases top of the range, for the 10 or 15 minutes we were there, I counted two Porsche and a Range Rover, so whatever was being shared between the workforce in a language that had something of the vorsprung durch technik about it, it was obvious that a new variation on the American Dream had gripped parts of Eastern Europe and people were here, enjoying a freedom and mobility that allowed them like Dick Whittington to set of and make their fortunes.
Thirdly, as tomorrow we cast our votes to determine who will represent us in Europe, I can only hope that we will have sense to vote for people who will work to promote and strengthen the Union, encourage open frontiers, welcome people into our City as we would wish to be welcomed into theirs.
We need to ungag the politicians and make it clear by our vote that we remain committed to a greater and more peaceful Europe in the years to come, because otherwise the graffiti'ed image of Mr Farage will remind us of Brecht's the Rise and Fall of Arturo Ui and the last line of that tragi - comedy, The bitch that bore him is in heat again.
We need to also remember that the full title of Brecht's Play is The resistable rise ......
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