Dark Chatter/Dark Matter.

Dark chatter is what was left after the cosmic big bang. Or dark chatter was what we heard after the banker’s big bang and banks imploded suckering most of us in. Use whatever index you like, make your own lens and look through it. If it is true you’ll consistently find the rich get richer and are rocketing away from the poor with increasing velocity. Focus in on the French city of Angers. Angers showed that mobilisation is possible for those middle-class that feel beleaguered and looked proudly on at their sons and daughter—our future doctors and lawyers—as they threw bananas at the French (in)justice minister Christiane Taubira and chanted anti-racist slogans because she is black.  Our professionals, this country’s proud home owning middle class would, of course, never throw bananas at a black person. On the cutty-stool here are those that don’t own their own home. Those that are sick or claim benefits and live in council houses. Those whose life-chances are so skewed prior to birth that their chances of becoming a doctors or lawyers are on par with the chance of them playing first-team- Premiership football for Manchester United.  They don’t need to find bananas. The media hands out boxes of them with stories about cheating the system and cheating the middle-class of everything they’ve worked for. They don’t need to think. Priming is not just for lesser primates. We know from Jeremy Kyle that it’s all drugs, drink,  sex addiction and that it’s a full-time job being poor.  The image is the answer. Pews and pews of poor people sit waiting for judgement. In Robert Tressell /Noonan’s classic one worker on a tea-break reads Chronicles of Crime. Another looks at the Obscurer. The more educated reads the Ananias. It is not enough to hate the poor. For their own good we must punish the poor for being poor. Brickbat and bananas don’t always work. Prisons and gulags are the next logical step. Read a book published before the war to end all wars, the Ragged-Trousered Philanthropist and tell me I’m wrong.


I highly recommend the Ragged Trousered Philanthropists too. The author was the restless and rebellious son of a cosily middle-class Irish family. Determined to be independent and live life his way he took the first job in England he could find, labouring on a building site in Hastings and wrote this epic book out of his blistering anger. A very real book, and sometimes caustically funny . The author is extremely sharp about the way that the Council and the local business contractors meet up all palsey -walsey together to keep each other in  the gravy train and keep the poor labourers who work for them out in the cold. My fave bit is the Council election where everyone parades around singing silly ditties supporting their man and threatening to hang the other one 'on a sour apple tree.' These days in our still 'ill-divided world'  we have a little more food on our plate and fewer holes in our clothes and we have lost much of he music.       Elsie

I started reading it again. The set plays about who stands for what can sometimes seem a bit contrived, but then you realize all the things that were being spoke about then- other people being too lazy to work and stealing their jobs is being spoken about now. It really is a classic. I'm often ashamed of so called Labour policies and this was the great hope of the working class then.