"Right, chaps... erm... cease an sekkle, big tings a-gwan in Babylon"... Mr. David Call-Me-Dave addresses the Witney Man Dem.
Spare a thought for the unelected Prime Minister and First Lord of The Treasury, Mr. David Call-Me-Dave. After the poor, unfortunate man had to cut short his £10,000 per week Tuscan holiday in order to show The Constabulary of the Metropolis how one should deal with civil unrest, following a spate of unorthodox late-night shopping at various locales in and around the London area, he now has to balance upon a delicate tightrope; he has to somehow demonstrate to the Daily Mail-reading classes that such flagrant terrorism will not go unpunished, whilst at the same time seeking not to alienate the people in the communities affected by the disturbances in case The Guardian find out some more about him and Rebekah Brooks mobilise the urban middle classes whose votes hold sway in Britain's major cities.
So, whilst the judiciary issue sentences of six months for such henious crimes as stealing a bottle of water, and Tory-controlled local authorities seek to evict poverty-stricken families because a 14-year-old youth was captured on CCTV breaking a window, Mr. Call-Me-Dave has been trying hard to demonstrate that he understands precisely what drives "de yoot" to take to the streets in such fashion.
Today he unveiled a package of measures which will apparently save 125,000 families from disaster, and in order to lend his words a measure of "street cred" he chose to make his speech in front of a backdrop depicting some "urban graffiti", in the dangerous, deprived, racial melting-pot heart of "da ghetto" of Witney, Oxfordshire. That should do it, I feel.
However, Mr. Call-Me-Dave should be wary of such presentational tactics; there are ginnygogs powerful voices within the establishment who are claiming that such manoeuvres will only cast him in a negative light with Outraged of Burford. Those voices may have a point about certain "wannabe wiggas", but they have already been castigated as out-of-touch racists by the more liberal-minded corners of society.
So, what does Mr. Call-Me-Dave do? Does he cosy up to "da yoot", and risk alienating the Hang 'Em, Flog 'Em wing of The Conservative and Hooray Party, or does he launch all-out class war on the "feral rats" of the "chav" classes and risk further conflagrations nationwide?
Personally, I feel he and his friends Gideon and Boris should go and smash up a restaurant, like the old days. But perhaps they should choose one like Cummin' Up in Catford, in order to show their egalitarian side.
Do mi bredren say "eeh"?
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