... I am coming back as something decorative and useless. People will simply write me cheques for how I look.
In this life I am certainly not decorative but annoyingly I am not quite useless. I am just competent enough to set up, run and grow a business. It's bloody hard work.
But what's the bloody point when the obviously useless get paid to fail and then get re-appointed? Yes, I am thinking of you Mr Jeremy Hunt (in passing I think of 'Hunt' in his context as a spelling error).
And because I am not entirely useless I worry about this crap. If I was really useless (or really clever I suppose) I wouldn't.
Sigh.
Mind you this J Hunt got it nearly right - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Hunt
4 comments:
Years ago, when I was at school a businessman was mentioned (one of these "Captains of Industry" types) who had had quite a few business go under during his leadership or shortly after. A master remarked "I don't think that could have been down to stupidity" (on the CoI's part).
I worry about this crap too. I worry about the point of voting, because there doesn't appear to be a point.
That reference to James Hunt is fascinating, andimmediately brings two thoughts to this old head...
1) I would certainly have played rugby, cricket and football against him in St Leonards, (Hastings), and...
2) I spent several happy hours in that pub by the railway bridge in Belmont!
Don't know anything about the other bloke really, who is he?
I know you should not judge a book by the cover so I say nothing about Chancellor Hunt's asymetric, slightly melting face.
But the eyes. The windows to the soul. They are spooky. As if the soul is off somewhere else. I would hate to wake up from a coma and see those eyes looking down on me.
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