Where There Were No Doors

Follow your bliss and doors will open where there were no doors before - Joseph Campbell

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Something of The Night

I have a theory about Michael Howard. Not that "Michael Howard is a humourless tosser" (as per the graffiti scrawled on a wall in Rotherhithe). Nor even that "Plus he's an evil quasi-fascist freak without an ounce of humanity or compassion" (as per my addition).

No. Both of those are facts. Not theories. My theory is an attempt to explain them.

When Anne Widdecombe said that there was "something of the night" about Michael Howard, there were pots and kettles giving each other knowing looks up and down the country. But all the same, she was dead right.

During the 18 years of Tory rule, the UK was essentially governed by a demonic hive mind... variously known as The Iron Lady; Control; or just plain "Thatcher". This vile entity was one of several loosed upon earth during recent human history by ArchDemon Mammon (Prince of temptors, avarice, and greed). It festered in The City and expanded in every direction, infecting almost everything it touched. A tumourous growth disguised as an economic miracle with the singular aim of hastening the apocalypse.

Aware that it was yet unable to reveal it's true form, Thatcher surrounded itself with vacant souls... people for whom empathy and compassion were abstract concepts and not felt experiences... people devoid of even a shred of warmth and decency... and into these people it flowed; dark and oily... stinking of the very deepest depths of hell to any who cared enough to take a sniff... all brimstone and rotting carcasses and the shit of burger-eating fat people.

And these empty souls became her "cabinet", her "MPs", and her "Party Faithful". And like a cruel plague they swept across the land, waging bitter war against all they despised... the weak, the poor, the young, the infirm and anyone who did not sufficiently worship Mammon so as to have lots of cash and want lots of possessions. Britain became all about "me" and nothing about "us", and a way of life that had still been clinging on here... a way of life summed up in the quote:
Only a life lived for others is a life worth while. A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labours of others.
- Albert Einstein
That way of life was smashed to the ground by Thatcher: The Iron Fist of Mammon.

The primary host is a spiteful, vindictive woman called Margaret. She personifies the entity on this plane of existence. During the early years she led from the front... still powerful enough to carry out an active personal role whilst controlling minions telepathically. But as the years wore on, the strain took it's toll on Margaret's body... for such is the lot of these demonic entities that their hosts are doomed to die of old age eventually. Then they return to hell, carrying with them the vacant souls of all they gained control over. The demon gets reassigned. The souls suffer an eternity of torment.

In 1990 the strain had become so much that Thatcher was unable to successfully exert control over it's drones and still retain such a visible public presence. A coup was staged, and Margaret's public appearances scaled back. Thatcher's loss of power became more apparent during the Major years, as bit by bit it's grip on the country was loosened, until finally an upstart demonic entity, "Blair", a minion of ArchDemon Pytho (Prince of the spirits of deceit) gained control.

Thatcher took the opportunity to regroup and prepare for one final assault on the people of the UK. One last spiteful spit in the eye of humanity. Gathering all it's remaining power, it allowed the Margaret host to lapse into a semi-vegetative state on the benches of The House of Lords where it scowls from behind a slipping mask, and it focussed upon the most callous and evil of all the Stormtroopers of Darkness... Michael Howard.

Which explains, you see, why he's such a nasty and slimey man. A man for whom "prisons work". He's actually a soulless empty shell, possessed by the final, putrid vestiges of the demon "Thatcher". It's plans for the next five years read like Orwell on a bad speed comedown.

Remember: Anyone who votes for Michael Howard or his party should have their name put on the sex-offenders register.

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