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Week 3 - the same old Carrilion

Keeping up with the increasingly ridiculous Tory government is doing my head in.

It's the end of week 4 ffs and the whole President's Club scandal of entrenched privilege has broken. Carillion was last week's news.

That said, it's a clear indication of the failings of neoliberal capitalism: even the building to house the company's administrators is supposed to be built...by Carillion!

Our very lives are entangled in a concrete spiderweb of nested and entrenched corporate privilege. We are squatters inside our own infrastructure. Our homes belong to people who can decide they don't want us because we don't have the rent they want more of. Our streets are named after slave owners, amusing innuendos (Bell End!), or owned by oligarchs. The places where we do business are owned by people we'd rather not do business with. It's a permanent state of disenfranchisement. We are the ghosts that haunt our homes.

It is clear that the government, under the sinister rat faced slack-eyed mantle of Chris Grayling, another Tory chameleon shifting from one brief to the next like a hungry snake, gave them contracts and money to keep them afloat. They knew full well, because Terrible Theresa was profiting from them, that they were falling apart in the manner most accustomed to capitalism: the top taking the money, spreading it around like STD's at an orgy, while the foundation crumbled financially.

It won't matter, the corporate elite will move on to something else. They will find another host to feed on. They are vampires. Their boss previously had a seat at the government table writing letters to warn people not to vote for Labour because...WE WANT MONEY!

With the benefit of hindsight that appeal couldn't be more obvious: this is OUR racket and you can all fuck off if you think we're going to stop.

Now we're bailing out yet another corporate gangbang - and make no mistake that's what will happen because that's what's been happening. Give these greedy scumbags contracts while begrudging the poor a girocheque in case they spend it on Xbox Strength Lagercider or the Daily Mirror. Let them eat cake while we snort coke.

You can't spell Carillion without Carrion!

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