They’re getting rather testy over there in Jolly Olde, what with the economy in the toilet and the cobbled-together government ass-over-teakettle trying to patch together a functional coalition. So I was neither surprised nor unhappy to come across the following:
The Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall were en route to the annual Royal Variety Performance when their car, somehow, was surrounded by a group of around 300 rioters who had broken off from the main student protests outside the Houses of Parliament to wreak havoc in some of London’s most up-market shopping streets. The rear passenger window of the royals’ vintage Rolls Royce was cracked and it was kicked and dented by protesters who also splattered it with paint.
The royal family was not the only unlucky target of protest. Rioting students and anti-capitalist groups smashed the windows of the Treasury building. Others urinated on the statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square, just across the street from the House of Commons, while one student was photographed swinging from the Union Flag that hangs from the Cenotaph—Britain’s principle memorial to her war dead.
This wasn’t some disadvantaged teenager from one of London’s tougher housing projects protesting against rises in university tuition fees but, rather, a bona fide “trustafarian” and history student named Charlie Gilmour—son of Pink Floyd guitarist David Gilmour.
Altogether now, every wag in the country quipped: “We Don’t Need No Education.” — Daily Beast
You go, Charlie, and all the rest of that lot. This is spot-on in so many levels I can’t even sort through without unwrinkling. Right:
Ø While I consider myself something of an Anglophile – admittedly impure, as I’m fond of the Irish and the Aussies as well – I find the British infatuation with their Royalty unqualifiedly repulsive. I won’t have a copy of Debrett’s Peerage in the house, and the very thought of m’lord and m’lady cramps my sphincter. My sole regret here is that the mob didn’t get to Royal Prince Earhair and his pale, buck-toothed bride. (Pity about the car, though.)
Ø Were the British government a hung male, it would be arrested for forcible rape of the public coffers, and the mutilation by a thousand cuts of the middle class. Its anti-Keynesian approach fixing its budget woes is past stupid, and well into advanced voodoo economics. FINALLY somebody over there has been ignited sufficiently to take action.
Ø The London lash-out signals hope that a similar rebellion by middle-class Americans is on the horizon. No, not the teabaggers, whose concerns for the middle class, underprivileged, rank-and-file working man are at best a smokescreen for a racist, class-war agenda against gay, non-Christian, darkly-pigmented, and generally anti-establishment and/or inconsistent with Rockwell-illustrated ideas. We need the coalition of students, union members, and pissed-off urban dwellers to start heaving dead cats into the sanctuaries. Goddammitall, we need the 60s.
Which is why Charlie Gilmour’s presence is so symbolically ecstatic. For too many years, the world of rock music has been severed from its roots and proper position as the engine of change, progress, and social justice. Shine on, you crazy grace notes. Tear Down the Wall! Tear Down the Wall!