FRIENDS OF TONY BLAIR AND BUGGERING TINY TIM

That name should get the number of hits up on this blog.  I wanted to put two more in, but then thought twice.   Teresa May after all will be going through everyone's dirty laundry soon, although from what I heard this weekend those in the upper echelons  ( must think of a better name for them..) have got the dirtiest laundry of them all.

Who will be going through the emails?  I imagine little elves beavering away in the cellars of Westminster in the midnight hours.   Friends of Tony Blair (FOTB)?    Talking of which….. I attended a charity event at the weekend. It was excellent and the performances were wonderful but it was the after event chat that was as intriguing as the event was grand. I was with people who know everyone, as in know/talk to/listen to everyone who is anyone who is written about in broadsheets and tabloid.  I know no one. In fact one of my dear friends once said to me (she is successful but not corruptibly so) 'I can speak to you openly Sarah because you don't know anyone'  I think she meant in her industry.

Any way, back to the after event chatter, where people were talking about who was suing who, and who was libelling who and who was doing what to whom and why wasn't anyone doing anything about it (I mainly said the last line, to which they always looked at me and said FOTB), I now think (having listened to this conversation) anyone who has reached the top of their game, especially in finance but any industry actually, is revolting - inside if not out. Revolting as in if you listened to stories about them they would make you physically sick, which is what I became. And they will all be OK because they are FOTB.     In order to get where they are, they have sold their soul.  I am trying to find another way of putting it, but no, that about sums it up.     I know a handful of good eggs who are at the top, but actually they're not really at the top. They are just very comfortable.    So they don't count.   Admittedly I don't mix in these circles that call themselves elite - and I'm pleased I don't.   I did for a short while and it was a bit like the party scene from Devils Advocate meets the dance scene from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

I think I've had a bad year, but boy, compared to this lot I've had it good.  Listening to the shenanigans (is that how you spell it?) of the upper echelons in society they must be an extremely bored and unimaginative lot.  I suppose there is only so much champagne you can drink, fancy restaurants you can go to, money and secrets you can hoard or hide.  Well as its Christmas they can all get together for their parties and pretend to be friends or enemies.     Its Christmas and Scrooge is on TV and that historian Dickens would look upon todays society and see how little the rich have learnt.   Scrooge was scared almost to death by the thought of going to hell which kick started him into generosity.  After Sunday, my feeling is now things have got far worse. Ghosts could visit this lot and they would still be bah humbugging, and on the quiet probably buggering Tiny Tim.