Today was a long slog through airports. Five hours in the air, two hours in security queues, plus a couple of hours in cars to and from. Now I am safely back in Russia, away from Communist Britain, where I spent a long weekend.
The “war on terror” from the point of view of the ordinary man consists of being ordered about by government employees with attitudes at least a mile higher than their intellects. Everywhere in Britain, behind the heads of these time-wasters, there are signs warning us not to hit them. It’s the only real evidence that our Government has any idea of what we are thinking.
Finding myself in a terminal-long queue at Manchester Airport. I politely asked a government no-neck with a “security” swing tag what the problem was. He replied in characteristic style (irritated expression, nouns and verbs unaccompanied by social niceties) that “it’s passenger volume”. I thought this a little offensive. I am lavishly built, but my volume was scarce greater than his. Given a three foot start, it would be a very unfit terrorist that he could catch.
How typical though that he perceived the taxpayers he serves as “volumes” of liquids or (presumably noxious) gases, rather than numbers of individuals. We were just a constant flow of irritation to him.
I called Mrs Paine (who is staying in England with the Painettes for half term) and whinged sarcastically about the “communist Northern thugs” who were herding me and my fellow travellers like so many zeks in a gulag. When I hung up (feeling much better for having vented) the gentleman ahead of me in the queue turned, smiling, to say he agreed and we fell into conversation.
He was in manufacturing. I can’t remember meeting a Brit in manufacturing during the last 15 years, so this was interesting in itself. His company has just been taken over in a massive leveraged buyout by a foreign company, having made the mistake of building up cash reserves attractive to such a predator. He is moving to a Nordic country with 59% income tax, having calculated that, net of all the stealth taxes he pays in Britain and bearing in mind the lower cost of housing and superior quality of life, he will be better off. He had many reasons to go, but mainly he is sick and tired of being part of the oppressed minority of productive workers ripped off to pay for parasites; both those “working” for the government and those living off benefits.
He summed it up nicely. He said that the British Welfare State has thrown the laws of evolution into reverse. What we have now, he said is “the survival of the unfittest”. We have accustomed generations of our people to lives of idleness - so many of them that we have to import 300,000 legal immigrants (and God knows how many illegals) to do the work they are too lazy to consider.
He recounted an experience of trying to staff a new factory in Birmingham. He and his colleagues arranged to do a presentation at the local Job Centre, only to be told by the lady in charge that “You won’t find anyone here. These guys are third generation. They have no intention of taking a job.” Unsurprisingly, his company has no expansion plans in Britain - they are building factories in Russia instead.
This reminded me of a conversation in a local shop yesterday where the owner told me he watched vans drop off builders, their working clothes soiled, at the Job Centre opposite. The vans waited for them to “sign on” as unemployed before driving them off - presumably back to the site for some overtime. As a taxpayer, he watches himself be defrauded. “Why can’t the Job Centre people see it, if I can?” he asked naievely. “They can,” I replied “but it’s not their money - it’s yours.”
Maybe this is a feeble link to my blog’s main theme, but “liberty” is in such trouble in Britain at least partly because “rights” have become more important. What I want from Government is - mainly - liberty. I want it to stay out of my way so I can get on with my life. Unfortunately, many of my compatriots want the Government to stand in my way like a highwayman, so that they can have “rights” to income at my expense.