The first few sunny days of summer and I am bugged. I mean bugged as in plagued by small flying things – slap, and a smear of some sand-fly type thing crushed against my arm, cheek, thigh. Itchy, scratch scratch, and a strange buzzing in my ear. Flying things all over the place and a creepy crawly feeling. Not that I would complain about summer ever – bring on a real one – but is this what global warming means for us, an England full of wasps and other annoying critters.
Of course this is symbolica as well – w.a.s.p.s – and it reminded me of the major thing that bugged me about Australia on my recent visit home (as also mentioned in the pages of TNT in interview a few issues back). Which bug? – the snivelling continuing precence of the nasty scuzzbag John Howard as prime-minister-for-life in the land of the Magic Pudding (so it seems – no credible parliamentary alternative in ‘opposition’ leader Beazley). The pie has truly turned rotten, though not significantly more rotten than the Maggie-in-a-nicer-dress version that we still have as PM here (he also wants it to be for life it seems).
The poster in the accompanying gloomy picture was for a Socialist Alternative public meeting. Worth noting as you look closely – after pondering the universal relevance of the slogan – is that the picture is from a worker-student solidarity rally, the sort of thing we might need in the current university dispute here, instead of defence of scabs and limited debate about what education might be, as we lurch even more into a degraded teaching factory system. Slap.