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| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
A Man of (No) Substance - 15 February 2007
Prime Minister aspirant Tory toff and leader, David Cameron, won’t disclose his ‘youthful
indiscretions’ when pressed by the press after his pot smoking was revealed. Did he? Didn’t he?
He did.
Predictably his dope smoking days were attributable to time-honoured ‘youthful indiscretions’.
Now where have we heard that before? Is 15-21 considered ‘youthful’, or in the case of Bush, 15-
45? My youth made me do it.
What Cameron said: “Like many people, I did things when I was young that I shouldn’t have done
and that I regret. I do believe that politicians are entitled to a past that remains private.”
What Cameron said under his breath: “Bugger off you bloody bastards.”
Dave seems to have two personas: the arrogant chin-jutting ‘I am speaking!’ Dave…or the
smooth, slightly smarmy, slick spin-master ‘I am speaking!’ Dave. Neither one very appealing,
except to that 37% of the pitiable voting public who are susceptible to the shallow.
If our man of (no) substance hadn’t been caught out and dangerously close to expulsion from
Eton during a 1982 drug scandal, he could now have his entourage handing out Tory T-shirts or
his ‘hug a hoodie’ sweatshirts at shopping centres across Britain. In his single-minded objective
to become Prime Minister, those sad enough to have had the wool (100% cotton) pulled over
their eyes could be wearing: ‘Count on Cameron to Be Clean’ or ‘Our Dave: Decent ‘n
Dependable’ or ‘Be Smoke-free Like Me’. At this point he can only assert his pot smoking is his
business, not yours.
"If you want a politician who wanted to be Prime Minister aged six, who is made entirely of
plastic, who is not a human being, then go and find someone else…”. Why? We have found him
right here. “You can come and look at my life, you can come and stuff a camera in my bedroom
for all I care.” Dave. Oh Dave. Not the Mr-Nasty Self. Where’s that Mr Smiley Self we’ve
become accustomed to?
However, those photographs of youthful Dave in his £1,000 tailcoat at Oxford’s infamous
Bullingdon Club could be his undoing as it clearly shows the authentic arrogant Dave rather than
the I’m-one-of-you Dave.
At 15, Dave did it the clever way: he partook, he didn’t deal…as did his other classmates in
crime. His future political target firmly established in his youthful brain, he couldn’t take the risk –
and he certainly didn’t need the cash.
But will the vacuous be victorious after not admitting/admitting to their youthful recreational
activities?
With Clinton as that paragon of virtue, US Senator Barack Obama clearly saw the necessity to
tell all. Whatever all is. Like Dave, hoping to achieve the ultimate political power position, BO
went mad and drank, did coke, smoked dope, “not smack though.” Not a smack head then. That’
s a comfort.
“I was a confused kid and was making a bunch of negative choices…those choices were
misguided, a serious mistake. By the time I was 20, I was no longer engaged in any of this
stuff.” When it was rumoured that he smoked cigarettes – he had to quickly enter nicotine rehab
– or so he said. Hmmm. Nicotine rehab. And exactly where do these rehab centres exists? Dave
must know, as he also renounced the evil weed right after becoming the Tory hopeful.
All this je regret rubbish is not only transparent tosh, it’s truly teeth-gratingly irritating. Wouldn’t it
be a joy to vote for someone who says: I did it and I really enjoyed myself on acid, ecstasy,
mushrooms…I laughed, I cried, I danced, I understood the meaning of the life and if you elect
me, I’ll reveal what it is.
Writing for Rolling Stone, Matt Taibbi finds OB to be as vacuous as Dave. “…his entire political
persona is an ingeniously crafted human cipher, a man without race, ideology, geographic
allegiances, or, indeed, sharp edges of any kind. You can't run against him on the issues
because you can't even find him on the ideological spectrum. Obama's "Man for all seasons" act
is so perfect in its particulars that just about anyone can find a bit of himself somewhere in the
candidate's background… you can even, according to his book The Audacity of Hope, worship
Norse Gods or bury your relatives according to Hawaiian rituals: “In our household the Bible, the
Koran, and the Bhagavad Gita sat on the shelf alongside books of Greek and Norse and African
mythology. On Easter or Christmas Day my mother might drag me to church, just as she
dragged me to the Buddhist temple, the Chinese New Year celebration, the Shinto shrine, and
ancient Hawaiian burial sites ...” Tell me this guy isn’t still smoking a spliff or two in his bathroom
with the door locked and the exhaust fan on.
Put on your Laura Ashley pinny; we’re about to be inundated with family-values rhetoric. All slick
and slippery, perfectly delivered by silver-tongued toadies. Fingers in ears now.
Lalalalalalalalalalalal.
Prime Minister aspirant Tory toff and leader, David Cameron, won’t disclose his ‘youthful
indiscretions’ when pressed by the press after his pot smoking was revealed. Did he? Didn’t he?
He did.
Predictably his dope smoking days were attributable to time-honoured ‘youthful indiscretions’.
Now where have we heard that before? Is 15-21 considered ‘youthful’, or in the case of Bush, 15-
45? My youth made me do it.
What Cameron said: “Like many people, I did things when I was young that I shouldn’t have done
and that I regret. I do believe that politicians are entitled to a past that remains private.”
What Cameron said under his breath: “Bugger off you bloody bastards.”
Dave seems to have two personas: the arrogant chin-jutting ‘I am speaking!’ Dave…or the
smooth, slightly smarmy, slick spin-master ‘I am speaking!’ Dave. Neither one very appealing,
except to that 37% of the pitiable voting public who are susceptible to the shallow.
If our man of (no) substance hadn’t been caught out and dangerously close to expulsion from
Eton during a 1982 drug scandal, he could now have his entourage handing out Tory T-shirts or
his ‘hug a hoodie’ sweatshirts at shopping centres across Britain. In his single-minded objective
to become Prime Minister, those sad enough to have had the wool (100% cotton) pulled over
their eyes could be wearing: ‘Count on Cameron to Be Clean’ or ‘Our Dave: Decent ‘n
Dependable’ or ‘Be Smoke-free Like Me’. At this point he can only assert his pot smoking is his
business, not yours.
"If you want a politician who wanted to be Prime Minister aged six, who is made entirely of
plastic, who is not a human being, then go and find someone else…”. Why? We have found him
right here. “You can come and look at my life, you can come and stuff a camera in my bedroom
for all I care.” Dave. Oh Dave. Not the Mr-Nasty Self. Where’s that Mr Smiley Self we’ve
become accustomed to?
However, those photographs of youthful Dave in his £1,000 tailcoat at Oxford’s infamous
Bullingdon Club could be his undoing as it clearly shows the authentic arrogant Dave rather than
the I’m-one-of-you Dave.
At 15, Dave did it the clever way: he partook, he didn’t deal…as did his other classmates in
crime. His future political target firmly established in his youthful brain, he couldn’t take the risk –
and he certainly didn’t need the cash.
But will the vacuous be victorious after not admitting/admitting to their youthful recreational
activities?
With Clinton as that paragon of virtue, US Senator Barack Obama clearly saw the necessity to
tell all. Whatever all is. Like Dave, hoping to achieve the ultimate political power position, BO
went mad and drank, did coke, smoked dope, “not smack though.” Not a smack head then. That’
s a comfort.
“I was a confused kid and was making a bunch of negative choices…those choices were
misguided, a serious mistake. By the time I was 20, I was no longer engaged in any of this
stuff.” When it was rumoured that he smoked cigarettes – he had to quickly enter nicotine rehab
– or so he said. Hmmm. Nicotine rehab. And exactly where do these rehab centres exists? Dave
must know, as he also renounced the evil weed right after becoming the Tory hopeful.
All this je regret rubbish is not only transparent tosh, it’s truly teeth-gratingly irritating. Wouldn’t it
be a joy to vote for someone who says: I did it and I really enjoyed myself on acid, ecstasy,
mushrooms…I laughed, I cried, I danced, I understood the meaning of the life and if you elect
me, I’ll reveal what it is.
Writing for Rolling Stone, Matt Taibbi finds OB to be as vacuous as Dave. “…his entire political
persona is an ingeniously crafted human cipher, a man without race, ideology, geographic
allegiances, or, indeed, sharp edges of any kind. You can't run against him on the issues
because you can't even find him on the ideological spectrum. Obama's "Man for all seasons" act
is so perfect in its particulars that just about anyone can find a bit of himself somewhere in the
candidate's background… you can even, according to his book The Audacity of Hope, worship
Norse Gods or bury your relatives according to Hawaiian rituals: “In our household the Bible, the
Koran, and the Bhagavad Gita sat on the shelf alongside books of Greek and Norse and African
mythology. On Easter or Christmas Day my mother might drag me to church, just as she
dragged me to the Buddhist temple, the Chinese New Year celebration, the Shinto shrine, and
ancient Hawaiian burial sites ...” Tell me this guy isn’t still smoking a spliff or two in his bathroom
with the door locked and the exhaust fan on.
Put on your Laura Ashley pinny; we’re about to be inundated with family-values rhetoric. All slick
and slippery, perfectly delivered by silver-tongued toadies. Fingers in ears now.
Lalalalalalalalalalalal.
