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Tuesday, 3 September 2013

Blog 49. Dog Pooh in Scented Bags...

The perfect analogy for 21st century living?

The idea occurred to me as I pootled along a lane near my house (‘pootle’ is my current fave word). Decorating the bushes along a pleasant, leafy stretch were some of the usual blue, grey and sometimes lilac, scented plastic bags that dog walkers use. They collect up the doggie crap in them when people are looking before they hang them on the bushes or chuck them into the hedgerows when the coast is clear. It is so utterly ridiculous; so marvellously, hideously preposterously, ludicrously THE WAY WE LIVE. They just begged to be something more than mini memorials to indolence, shit shrines to selfishness, little reminders of only-I-matter, hints of the way the 21st century mind operates, it was inspiring.

 Some of the ripe faecal matter oozed a bit where the bags had been punctured or torn with the weight of their contents. A sickly aroma of chemical fragrance, mixed with the horrid innards, wafted in the warm breeze as I passed, effectively choking the smell of late summer, grass and leaves – even car fumes, which would have been welcome under the circumstances.

We are the bushes and passive hedgerows (some, like me, a little thorny) just being, as more and more doggy doo doo bags with their false floral smells are hung upon us until we become dragged down by barely contained, thinly disguised ugly truths.

Jingoistic racism is shit in a scented plastic bag of headline grabbing statements about immigration, juxtaposed with a call to patriotism.

Jolly laddish humour denigrating women in your bog standard comedy den is the shite of misogyny carried in the perfumed plastic parcel marked ‘irony’.

The Olympics was a dome of shite of scandalous resource-wasting, bringing wealth and prestige to an inner circle, wrapped in the colossal fragranced misty clingfilm of the-national-good.

The outcry against foreign aid is spite and greed on a level so extraordinary the shite requires a double layer of sweet smelling artifice. In this case the scent is provided by the lie about concern for our own public services as if there is some link. In fact our NHS is crippled under the burden of PFIs, poor management and targets and not by foreign aid. It is undermined by being manipulated by a disconnected elite who live and breathe private sector and privilege.

The demand for fracking as an answer to high energy prices and shortages is so wrong headed as to be surreal. The profiteers are chucking the prettily wrapped turds about so randomly you’d think no one ever noticed that availability of energy sources never actually saw prices dropping for consumers.

Equally, those still bellyaching about GM crops as a saviour of the poor and starving never noticed that the poor don’t get fed even when there is enough of everything on the planet. Both the frackin frackers and the gormless GM-ers need extra large bags for their particular crap. Maybe they could have bin bags soaked in Chanel No.5?

And so it goes on. You see just what a fabulous analogy it is? Most analogies break down / degrade (unlike plastic bags) but this one works in so many ways. It is the analogy that keeps on giving, it deserves a medal.

Try it. If it doesn’t work you will get your money back (not).

Choice in public services is the perfumed bag containing the shitty truth which is that those with the sharpest elbows can scramble for the increasingly limited availability of properly operating and funded services.

A zero hours contract is the aromatic legal packaging containing the shit of exploitation, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

The country is filling up with gaily coloured perfumed bags bulging with nasty toxic shit. When the bags all split the stench is going to be horrendous.

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