 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
Mere Cash-Mere - 20 July 2009
Enough American programmes to bewilder the elderly. “Why do all the actors on the BBC have
American accents? I can’t understand a word they are saying. Were we annexed as part of the
US after the war? Is that why Auntie Verity moved to Minneapolis in 1945? Goodness gracious
me. I am confused.”
“No, dear. It’s merely where a portion of our licence fee has been spent… after excessive BBC
salaries; the rest of it has purchased lovely cashmere socks.”
The chiefs at the BBC have used our mandatory money as a gift registry: wedding presents,
cashmere jumpers, flowers, champagne, luxury soaps, candles, perfumes, gift baskets, cakes,
sweets, breakfast muffins, a biscuit jar, a silver bangle with a charm….
Some specifics to make the taxpayer demand public flogging: £2,875 on a meal, £2,756.41 on
flowers averaging £450 per recipient, £1,579.63 for an executive Christmas dinner, £1,000
dinners on a regular basis, £1,000 for 35 bottles of champagne, £827.02 for a dinner with
Labour MP Tessa Jowell, £800 for 14 Molton Brown gift sets, £632 on a single taxi ride, £179
for a portable DVD player, £102.38 on ‘talks’, £45 for a wreath, £34 for anti-malaria tablets, £20
for an eye test, £6.99 for a Doctor Who action figure, a £2 get well card, £1.25 bus ticket, 80p
newspaper.
“Hey Yentob. Pass that catalogue de cashmere over here. I haven’t ordered anything for at least
3 hours. Where is that one you had featuring the most expensive chocolates in the world? I think
I fancy a few boxes of jasmine tea truffles or perhaps Champagne truffles with citrus notes.
Have you tried them yet?”
“They are made by sweet barefoot children under five. Cheapest labour you know.”
“Sweet. Oh you are so clever. I’ll order you a few dozen as well. How is British culture doing
these days?”
“I have no idea. I am far too busy passing out prezzies to the great and the good. I must keep
my name on the invite list. I do love to mingle.”
They stuff their bloated faces, drink themselves comatose, travel in luxury, ply people with
presents; exactly who is dealing with programming?
Are these self-interested twits our next set of MPs-in-waiting perhaps? No training necessary…
simply the ability to make daft decisions, live in their own fantasy world, socialize with the rich
and famous, maintain distain for the little people, spend our money on themselves and their
peers. No problem there.
Enough American programmes to bewilder the elderly. “Why do all the actors on the BBC have
American accents? I can’t understand a word they are saying. Were we annexed as part of the
US after the war? Is that why Auntie Verity moved to Minneapolis in 1945? Goodness gracious
me. I am confused.”
“No, dear. It’s merely where a portion of our licence fee has been spent… after excessive BBC
salaries; the rest of it has purchased lovely cashmere socks.”
The chiefs at the BBC have used our mandatory money as a gift registry: wedding presents,
cashmere jumpers, flowers, champagne, luxury soaps, candles, perfumes, gift baskets, cakes,
sweets, breakfast muffins, a biscuit jar, a silver bangle with a charm….
Some specifics to make the taxpayer demand public flogging: £2,875 on a meal, £2,756.41 on
flowers averaging £450 per recipient, £1,579.63 for an executive Christmas dinner, £1,000
dinners on a regular basis, £1,000 for 35 bottles of champagne, £827.02 for a dinner with
Labour MP Tessa Jowell, £800 for 14 Molton Brown gift sets, £632 on a single taxi ride, £179
for a portable DVD player, £102.38 on ‘talks’, £45 for a wreath, £34 for anti-malaria tablets, £20
for an eye test, £6.99 for a Doctor Who action figure, a £2 get well card, £1.25 bus ticket, 80p
newspaper.
“Hey Yentob. Pass that catalogue de cashmere over here. I haven’t ordered anything for at least
3 hours. Where is that one you had featuring the most expensive chocolates in the world? I think
I fancy a few boxes of jasmine tea truffles or perhaps Champagne truffles with citrus notes.
Have you tried them yet?”
“They are made by sweet barefoot children under five. Cheapest labour you know.”
“Sweet. Oh you are so clever. I’ll order you a few dozen as well. How is British culture doing
these days?”
“I have no idea. I am far too busy passing out prezzies to the great and the good. I must keep
my name on the invite list. I do love to mingle.”
They stuff their bloated faces, drink themselves comatose, travel in luxury, ply people with
presents; exactly who is dealing with programming?
Are these self-interested twits our next set of MPs-in-waiting perhaps? No training necessary…
simply the ability to make daft decisions, live in their own fantasy world, socialize with the rich
and famous, maintain distain for the little people, spend our money on themselves and their
peers. No problem there.
