Friday, 13 May 2011

The Man

This letter is addressed to everyone in the UK and beyond. This letter is about someone we all know...

Dear All, 
You know The Man! The Man – he’s everywhere! He’s with you sometimes and he is often with me. Perhaps you’ll join me in congratulating The Man for his tremendous work. The Man comes in many guises and he wears many hats. He pops up when you least expect. He’s the one who says your grades are rubbish and the same one who loses you that ideal position. He squeezes your last drop of self confidence. It is he who decides the kind of future ahead.

The Man knocks your creativity. He bangs the door shut on opportunity. He stamps on you for not making enough profit. He sells off your assets. The Man tells us all to get stuffed actually! Good! You recognise him now. Then let’s raise our glasses to The Man and the great job he does!

We find The Man, day in and day out, getting his hands dirty with his sleeves rolled up – he is sorting out the mess. Maybe it was a mess he got us into in the first place, but never mind. He’s out there and busy, whether it’s stealing away a loved one or keeping you in that dead end job. He meddles with your health and happiness and plays risk with your hopes and dreams. Only this last year he’s played his part in ridding the local authorities of 100,000 council workers! And you have to admit that is some achievement! Of course, the council services are now less effective, less reliable and less safe; nevertheless it’s not The Man’s problem, he’s done his bit.

You know what I think? I think The Man is definitely a sports fan, as cutting back on the Arts big style means more money for the Olympics. Hurray! The Man must have saved sheds load of money there. And raising VAT and tripling student fees means the middle, spread as it may be, is even more squeezed. Bravo!

The Man is not afraid to tell people ‘No, thank you’. Someone has to do it. The only writing of mine he’ll publish is that which is on the wall. The only painting he’ll buy from me does not exist in a Portfolio. The only flowery gesture he’ll give me is in his language, and his only backing is what I see when he walks away. I’ll never be The Man’s apprentice. I’ll never fit his organisation. Obviously the last thing The Man wants to do is pay fair money for a fair days work. We can rely on The Man to keep his costs down to the minimum. And so thank goodness The Man’s okay! His profit is soaring. His bonus is earmarked. His society is BIG.

Yours truly,

I was inspired to write this after I came across a fictitious letter to the London Regional Transport about cuts they were making many moons ago - written by Terry Jones for the Guardian. I could not resist having a go at conveying my own thoughts in this blog entry using the same darkly, humorous approach as he. Thanks for reading.  

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