“Where there is discord may we bring harmony. Where there is error may we bring truth. Where there is doubt may we bring faith. And where there is despair may we bring hope.” Remember that nauseating quote from a newly elected Margaret Thatcher on the steps of Downing St on her first day in office in 1979?
This was a woman who went on to put troops on the streets of the UK; who declared class war on trade unions and open war on the miners and mining communities; who presided over almost 15 years of police corruption, most of which is just now seeing the light of day through events like the Hillsborough inquiry; and who caused untold damage to British industry and those who worked in it.
Google searches sometimes provide the most unusual results, in this case by providing a link to the Queens Speech under “Arts and Entertainment”. This proves one of two things - either Google has a sense of humour or is a sadist, because there was nothing entertaining about this legislative programme.
This government revels in its declaration of the green shoots of recovery, proclaiming that the economy is improving and that everything is getting better. Meanwhile in the real world the percentage of those working but living in poverty continues to increase, as demonstrated by the increases in those in work claiming housing benefit.
Reading this year’s Queens Speech, its most remarkable trait is actually how banal it is and how little it has to offer in the real world.
This speech has obvious gestation in recent events. After a collision with the shock troops of Little England in the local elections last week, Her Majesty's Government has clearly looked out the Dummies Guide to Reactionary policies (British edition).
It then appears to have dictated bits at random from its collective position in the downstairs lavvy - a stance necessitated by the collective overflow of effluent.
As a committed republican, and grand-daughter of committed republicans, (one RoI, the other ILP) I grew up regarding the pomp of the Queens Speech as little more than a particularly funny pantomime. Grampa H taught a fine contempt for the upper classes including wee Lizzie and Phil the Greek, encouraged the idea that the costumes and ceremony were ridiculous, and later introduced me to the thought that a hereditary monarch speaking on behalf of a democracy was ironic at the very least.
