[Note: This column was originally drafted for publication in one of our nation's 'lad's mags' however for some reason the distinct lack of willy jokes and breast references meant it was deemed, and I quote 'too high brow' for their readers. So to ensure that this blog post is accessible to all who to choose to read it, I implore you to imagine Margaret Thatcher's powerful heaving bosom rising and falling under a coarse, tight, blue polyester blazer throughout. Enjoy.]
Has the great British public contracted political fever or did the passing of Her Magg-esty simply give us another excuse to party like it's 1990?
Unless you're currently up to your neck in ecstasy tablets and luminous swimwear on an island in Ibiza you will have been hard pushed to overlook the passing of Margaret Thatcher. Millions took to twitter, facebook and The Wright Stuff phone lines to either vociferate joy or express genuine remorse at the passing of the stern bouffant matriarch. Even teen heartthrob Harry Styles of One Direction posted "RIP Baroness Thatcher x" sparking thousands of replies primarily consisting of "is he your friend?", "may he rest in peace" and "who's that?"... and who says the youth of today don't understand satire. I myself made some snappy one liners on twitter (@jeffleach if you're interested) and was met with a few right wing gripes of "there may have been a few casualties along the way but Thatcher was a resolute woman, with fantastic hair who stood by her beliefs"... well my friends, so was Myra Hindley. I question whether the populace honestly developed a newly acquired and grossly deferred detest for the political solecism of our late Prime Minister and instead wonder whether the resulting plethora of parties were what really got our pulses racing?
What struck me most was the sudden surge of outrage at the policies of this loved/hated Marmite metaphor of a leader after so many years of silence, especially from a generation who are more likely to peg the Iron Lady as some sort of transgender Marvel comic meme. Instead of inciting malcontents to storm the Houses of Parliament determined to question why our current government has been repeating the securocratic and individualist ideology of Thatcherism, they instead chose to throw a selection of rave ups. Way to stick it to the man (in a blue dress) guys!
I speculate that those conservative suits and upper echelons of society who were up in arms about the aggressive backlash to poor old Maggie's demise (May She Rust In Peace) have very little to worry about. The anger and outrage will dissipate as rapidly as it was conceived amidst a hazy nationwide hangover. Please don't misunderstand me, I am no better and have been guilty of drunkenly exposing myself at a retirement party of a loathed colleague myself before but perhaps when it comes to the future of our country the stakes are somewhat higher?
And so I implore you that once the decorations are deconstructed, the Maggie masks are recycled and the hangover goes into hiding let's not forget the real problems facing British politics are firmly situated in the present and we'll have more chance of influencing their outcome if we're not covered in WKD vomit. Fear not though, I'll be the first one gyrating on the dance floor at Cameron's send off.