The working class can **** my *****
By Mike Cunningham On May 11th, 2015 at 5:50 pmA few of the many sets of buzz-words or –phrases popular within Party-political circles is “Are we message-good? Are we on track? Are we reaching our base; our core?” The Party faithful, or ‘the core’, are known to respond to command phrases which fit their belief profiles; but what happens when the Party changes, or alters, and the core doesn’t?
My son, a micro-electronics engineer, works in the automotive industry in the North-East, and a great many of his mainly male work-colleagues give their loyalty to the Labour Party; the “Party of the working Man”. My late eldest brother, my late father, were also life-long Labour supporters, On the map of voting intentions, where I live, County Durham is part of a Labour red block which goes against the vast spaces of Tory blue throughout the rest of England, We are, in reality, a rural area with the vast open moors of Northumberland and of Durham; with the inherited memories of an industrial heritage; of shipbuilding, armaments, coal-mining and steel: but with the emphasis on the ‘heritage’; because the ship-slips and cranes have all fallen silent, the Chieftain & Challenger tank factory is shuttered, the mines have disappeared, and the steel is hanging on by it’s veritable fingertips. But the Labour Party counts its support up here by the bucket-full; the ‘red’ seats are safe from Blyth to Newcastle, from Sunderland south to Durham.
But I do wonder why this ‘tribal loyalty’ still exists, when the Party which engenders and hopes for, and to a certain degree depends on the support of that ‘working man’ seems to have morphed into a metrosexual, femininised, elitist-run Party which laughs at the St. George’s flags on a house, or sneers at the ‘white vans’ of their male voting base, whilst promoting a ‘pink van’ for the Labour ‘wimmin’ who, incidentally, wouldn’t be seen dead in that pink monstrosity, or anything near it. When much younger than today, Read the rest of this entry »