Jeff Peel's Diary

When I was a child there was a chip shop not too far from where I lived.  It wasn’t a very good chip shop.  It was run by a very elderly couple.  The lady was very grumpy.  Her husband was very fat and often wore only a string vest on the upper half of his body.  He sweated a lot.

Needless to say, it wasn’t a very good chip shop.  The portions were tiny.  They tasted awful.  But they were very cheap. 

Why do I mention this?  Well, for some reason, the current talks at Hillsborough Castle remind me of that chip-shop.  News reports refer to our “government”, or our “executive” like it’s a real government – but we all know that it’s not really.  It goes through the motions of government.  It is populated by people who use the odd, contrived language of government.  But more often than not they reach no obvious conclusions or outcomes.  They serve up lame and pathetic, unpalatable fayre and expect us to buy it and be satisfied. 

Yesterday, we are told, two master fryers have been flown in to help.  Both are Prime Ministers that have overseen the most disastrous crippling recessions to have hit these shores.  Both sat back and ignored the fact that their economies were being raped and pillaged by unregulated bankers, and greedy, manipulative property developers.  Both have been forced to bail-out their decrepit economies with vast swathes of government borrowing.

It’s like the good old days again, though.  An incredulous public sits blinking and unnerved by the unfolding events.  Once again the television arc-lights are strained on the columns of Hillsborough Castle, as gleaming (tax-payer funded) limos swing into view and their occupants emerge to mouth crisis words – about the urgency of the talks, the need for resolution and calm decision-making.

But we all know that these talks are being held between people we would never invite for dinner – people we know, deep down, embarrass us a bit when they are interviewed on national telly.  They are all, every one of them, sociopaths in some way.  Some, we know, have probably killed or tried to kill people.  Others, we know, might have done shady deals with developers.  Others are just plain shifty and we’re not sure why.  Oh, and then there are the ones who can barely string a sentence together.  And yet these people are making the chips. 

This crisis is not a crisis.  There is no national clamour for these powers to be devolved – regardless of what the Hillsborough or St Andrews agreements said.  The crisis is “politician” contrived.  And the politicians – because they are defined on the basis of tribe – hate each other. 

However, there is something different about this crisis.  For the first time I sense that the tribes out here – outside Hillsborough Castle – are beginning to lose faith.  They are beginning to see that these political hangers-on have completely lost touch with the real world.  Orange marches no longer cripple society like they used to – they are mostly ignored.  Orange Order membership is dwindling.  British liberalism is beginning to permeate into our society.  No-one speaks or cares about Irish or Ulster Scots.  Victoria Square seems to be a success.  We now have a Hollister and perhaps Abercrombie will be here soon too (these things are very important to our teenage kids).  We now have direct flights to Europe.  Our rate of child poverty is the lowest in the UK.  We have high levels of employment because of British tax-payer generosity.  We don’t really eat fish and chips any more – we prefer Thai Curry. 

Therefore the politicians at Hillsborough castle merely represent the bloat and biliousness that is the contrived and tribal nonsense that used to be this place.  It isn’t any more.  We’ve moving on.  So let’s not call this a crisis.

I have to admit, I used to run in to the chip shop, when I was a child, and ask, “Have you any chips left?”  If the response from the fat-man was positive I’d answer, “Well that’s your own fault for making too many.”