BOND AND THE GREAT BRITISH SELL-OFF

FEBRUARY 2020 – AN ENGLISH STATELY HOME, NOW A COUNTRY CLUB

The crunch of gravel underfoot and sting of the frosty morning air on his face elicited a smirk of contentment from Bond as he sprung his door lock with a click. He was alive and ready for his next test. No sooner had he fired up the engine of his Aston Martin Zagato, engaged seat heater and adjusted the cabin thermostat, than his mobile rang.

“Bond.”

“Have you heard the news, Bond?”

“I’ve been keeping a cute masseuse busy at my club, what’s happened?”

“Spectre’s plans to de-stabilise the West have taken a big step forward.”

“Explain?”

“Their USA agent, Donald Trump, has just been re-elected. We’ve just intercepted a conversation between him and his British counterpart, Agent BoJo. They’re about to put the next phase of their grand plan into motion.”

“Can you play it to me?”

“Certainly. Here is the relevant extract…”

“…my most discombobulating applause, nay, Roman Senatorial salute, to you, mighty orange leader, for your excellent and devious re-election.”

“Cut that annoying word-play, Boris. Keep it for the Limey Press. Now we’ve both lied to and confused our people enough to get elected, it’s time to put our plan into action.”

“Of course it is, oh Great Carbuncle.”

“I hope you mean that affectionately, Boris. Now get hold of that weasly guy with the foreign name…”

“Do you mean Nigel… erm… Farage?”

“Yeah. Agent Mirage, let’s call him. He’s a barely believable vision of false hope. Now you two get busy with collapsing the British economy and trading the Pound down until it’s worth as much as a lousy nickle. Then make a very public appeal for help to the good old US of A and I’ll come to the rescue. It’ll be a work of art, Boris. A piece of homemade apple pie. The last and greatest privatisation – Britain sold to the USA for a pittance to become our overseas colony and launchpad for European de-stabilisation. It’s a beautiful plan. I’m so clever.”

“Oh yes you are, mighty orange-furred bear. The stupid British are so easy to manipulate with their pathetic aspiration, their tacky cuckoo clocks and cheap Banksy prints, so easily distracted with cookery shows and obsessed with selling their junk on the Antiques Roadshow…”

“Yes, yes, Boris, stay focussed. Remember the sequence – number one?”

“Erm, number one – put an end to all public spending.”

“Yeah. Number two?”

“Err… This will lead to famine, preventable deaths and widespread rioting, so declare a state of emergency and mobilise what’s left of our run-down military.”

“Good. Then part three?”

“Errr… part three, mmm… can you help me out?”

“You oaf, lay off the brandy and American chicks! Number three is start a run on the pound. You and the Mirage will organise the wholesale selling of the pound until your currency collapses. I’ll get Soros in Wall Street to do the same. After a few days, your pathetic parliament, isolated from Europe, will be begging us to come in and help…”

“Yeah! and that’s when I’ll take control of negotiations and we’ll cut one of your deals!”

“That’s right Boris. Britain will be so weak and confused, I’ll buy it for a few bucks and kick the Royal Family out of those palaces that we’ve earmarked for Trump Hotels. We’ll arrange safe extraction for you and anyone you care about… is there anyone?”

“I, erm, can’t think of anyone offhand, Donald… all my ex’s and my children hate me.”

“Nevermind. We’ll fly you back to the city of your birth, New York – we haven’t forgotten that you’re one of us at heart – where you can rule Britannia from a safe distance. We always knew you’d come back, Boris. The ensuing civil war should reduce your population to a more manageable 40 million. Then we’ll send the troops in. It’ll be like that movie, 28 Days Later – one of my favourites…”

Bond interrupted the recording with a bellow of rage. “I’ve heard enough, X! That smug, entitled buffoon must be stopped before this escalates!”

“Precisely, Bond. Come in for a briefing and then see Q for the latest deadly gadgets. You’re going to need all the stealth you can muster to get close to agents BoJo and the slippery Mirage. They must be eliminated – this comes right from the top. BoJo lied to our Head of State and now she wants payback. Get here as fast as you can.”

With a spray of gravel, Bond headed down the driveway and out through ornate sandstone gates onto a peaceful country lane. Its peace was soon torn apart as he floored the accelerator and with a mighty roar, leapt to 80 in a heartbeat. Bond felt the call of history on his shoulder – all his previous missions had merely been practice for this monumental moment. The smokescreen of Brexit had distracted a divided country, allowing the party of corporate greed and asset-stripping to be re-elected with a working majority.

“How foolish and gullible we are,” Bond muttered through grinding teeth. “But I’ll fix it. Sometimes democracy needs a helping hand.”

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The Game Show

“Well, it’s a big HELLO from Grime TV, your host, Dermot Blimp, and my glamorous assistant, Gloria MT Nester!”
A Floor Manager whips up the studio audience to feverish applause, with wolf whistles and yelps further elicited with the skill of a symphony orchestra conductor. Gloria twirls her golden gown and flutters her heavy, sparkly eye lashes as more applause is milked from the studio sea lions. Dermot pulls down his powder blue jacket cuffs and makes an awkward twirl, like an only child desperate for attention.
“Tonight, it’s the night we’ve all been waiting for!” Dermot shouts to quell the noise. “Yes, after three rounds of skulduggery and back-stabbing, we now have the Grand Final!” He exhibits his pearly white grin to camera one and then, with a flick of his blond fringe, turns to his left. “Gloria, please bring on our two contestants!”

A wave of applause greets two shuffling figures who emerge almost sheepishly from opposite wings, blinking in the glare of the studio lights. One is a large furry orange monster, who almost stumbles and has to be helped to his podium by the remarkably agile high-heeled Gloria. The monster grunts and makes an awkward grab for her bum, but she sashays out of reach with practiced skill, whilst maintaining her perfect smile.
“He’s a bit of a lad – welcome contestant number one, the Honey Monster!” Dermot trills. Wild applause, walrus noises and whistles from the unruly half of the audience breaks out like a fever.
“And to my right, his opponent – clever but dangerous, it’s Doctor Hannibal Lecter!” More reserved clapping greets the sinister figure standing to attention in a black suit, acknowledged with a slight bow and a fixed smile that doesn’t touch his dark, soulless stare.

 

Dermot and Gloria are now side-by-side between the two contestants, and Dermot squints at the prompt card in his hand before grinning at the camera. “Yes, folks, after three gruelling weeks of competition, we now have a final showdown between the two highest vote-winners; to my right, the Honey Monster, and to my left, Doctor Lecter, or Hannibal the Cannibal to his friends.”

Further applause allows him time to fix his floppy hair in the reflection of the camera lens. “Now for a round of questions aimed at eliciting their suitability for the top position, followed by a studio vote. Gloria, our first question please.”
“Thank you, Dermot. The first question, from Mrs Plimsole in Harrow, to both candidates, is, ‘What is your favourite meal of the day’. First, to the Honey Monster.”

The camera zooms in on the orange fur-ball who tilts his head, causing his disk-black eyes to roll. “I like Sugar Puffs for breakfast! I am the BEAST, I mean BEST –  vote for me!” he growled triumphantly, punching the air. The audience applaud as the camera returns to the smiling Gloria.
“Thank you, Mister Monster. And now the same question to Doctor Lecter.”
A hush falls on the studio as the camera slowly zooms in on his dead-eye stare. “I like to have dinner with an old friend,” he quietly intones. “I am a gourmet chef in my spare time, and my speciality is liver, gently sautéed with fava beans and served with a room temperature Chianti.”

Four further lifestyle questions are asked by Gloria before Dermot reclaims the limelight. “Thank you, Gloria, and our contestants. I think we can say we know a lot more about them. Now for a more serious question. What is the biggest change each of you would make if you won this competition?”
The Honey Monster scratches his wild, unruly orange head and rolls his eyes. “Erm, more public holidays and free Sugar Puffs! Hee hee hee.” His huge shoulders rise and fall in mirth as the audience whistle and clap.
“The same question to you, Hannibal,” Dermot grins.

Doctor Lecter fixes him with a deadly stare at presuming to address him by his first name. “You must come ‘round for dinner, Dermot, my dear. I would continue with my important work of downsizing the public sector and freeing up more money for the already filthy rich; and covertly privatising the health service so that party members can benefit from directorships and bonuses through briefcase companies whilst a string section plays Mozart over the death screams of our nation.” He smiles benignly as polite applause ripples around the room.
“Well, that’s some ambition,” Dermot croons. “Now, one final question before we go to voting. Based on experience, what do YOU think best qualifies you for the top job? Mister Honey Monster first.”
“Errr… because I’m a big orange lovable monster, I can get away with anything because of my stupid grin and make stuff up that I later deny. Tee hee hee.”
“And what about you, Doctor Lecter?”
“I am not handicapped by compassion or empathy, Dermot, and smile as I make life-or-death decisions. As long as the rich get richer, that’s all that matters.”
“Wow. What succinct summations from our two political heavyweights. As with all good democracies, it’s time for our carefully selected studio audience to vote on who will be the next Great Leader of the Capitalist State of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. What next, Gloria?”

“Thank you, Dermot. Whilst our audience vote and we analyse the result, we have some entertainment for you – a Morris Dance by the Home-Grown Ninnies troupe, entitled, ‘Bye bye Europe!”
Five minutes later the troupe troop off and the two contestants are left standing between Dermot and Gloria. Gloria is holding a large gold envelope.
“And now the results,” Dermot announces as seriously as he can. “Gloria, please open the envelope.”
She deftly slices it open with a long finger nail and holds the card in front of her. A nervous glance to her co-host raises the barely-contained tension in the room to fever pitch.
“And the winner, and new leader of our nation is… the Honey Monster!”
The audience erupt into shouts, whoops, whistles and raucous applause, as the Honey Monster runs towards them and throws himself onto the front rows. The elated crowd carry him overhead, chanting, “Tell us about the honey, mummy!”
The camera pans back to Gloria who glances at the disappearing figure of Dermot, Hannibal Lecter’s hand firmly on his shoulder as he is guided into the wings. “And that’s the end of the show, and, hopefully, the start of a bright orange future for our country. Good night Britain!

GUNS N’ HOUSES

Two things have caught my attention in last week’s news. The first – British Prime Minister Theresa May bravely battling through a hacking cough, falling signs and an unfunny prankster to sell us the unbelievable notion that her party actually cares about citizen welfare. The second – another appalling, almost apocalyptic, mass shooting in the USA.

In my own quixotic, febrile mind these two events are connected. You see, both the USA and the UK are hostages to their history and socio-cultural development. In the case of the UK, there is an obsession with home ownership that started out as a quite reasonable desire to well, own your own home. This dream has been cynically hijacked by the forces of capitalism who have now gained such a tight control over our lives that we are being slowly rendered powerless vassals to an uncaring system who see us merely as consumers on the one hand and units of labour to be exploited for profit on the other (or replaced if we ask for decent pay and conditions).

Theresa May chose to swerve the impending car crash of Brexit in her party conference speech and instead headed straight for the heart-and-soul of a creaking nation – home ownership. Since her heroine Margaret Thatcher’s ruinous rebalancing of the economy to render it up as a sacrificial lamb to the Wolf of Wall Street, our housing sector has become the Property Market and is now an investment opportunity for international crooks and money-launderers rather than serving its intended function of housing people. Citizens need to be housed, even in an aggressive advanced capitalist system, otherwise, how are they going to work and pay taxes? But there’s too much money invested, too much at stake, to reform this ugly investment beast. So suck it up, Britain.

Mrs May unwisely chose to highlight the fact that today’s younger generation, apart those with millionaire parents, have been priced out of the housing market and will never realize their dream of owning their own home. So are the Tories advocating low-cost rental schemes? No – private renting has become a huge source of investment and wealth-creation in its own right, feeding off the fat carcass of an over-inflated property market. Instead, she made a weak and insincere ‘promise’ to invest in ‘affordable housing’, to the sneers of her watching colleagues. This is from a Party hell-bent on withdrawing from all its responsibilities towards citizen welfare – the slow pulling-back of a parental hand from a dying child. The charities sector will take up the slack in a post-welfare state Britain if this lot continues to be re-elected.

Why did she do it? They certainly don’t intend to intervene to allay our misery at ongoing economic exploitation – just the usual lies and sops that at least let us know they are aware of our distress – like Fritzel feeding his imprisoned daughter and rape-victim with mock shows of kindness that merely reinforce the power relationship between the exploiter and exploited. Will we ever break away from this increasingly totalitarian global capitalist super-state? They have done a brilliant job of subverting our democracy and bamboozling our media with, yes, you’ve guessed it – FAKE NEWS.

Which brings me to part two of my rant. Our capitalist cousin, the USA, is reeling after the latest incident of mass-murder by a gun-toting maniac who had amassed an arsenal of over twenty weapons. Islamic State added a darkly sinister attempt at humour by trying to take the credit for a killing spree carefully planned and executed by a white retired millionaire accountant. The playground of the affluent – Las Vegas – became the killing ground for the insane gunning-down of hundreds of concert-goers in a carnival of pure evil. Why does the USA so proudly cling to its ‘right to bear arms’? Thomas Jefferson is long dead and the British colonisers long-gone, so why the need? Well, one gun shop owner explained to a bemused reporter that an armed citizenry prevents an overbearing state from exploiting them – in a chilling act of defiance bordering on the threat of re-opening the civil war. USA, you are in one helluva mess.

So, in conclusion, we are all living under a global capitalist system whose aim is to squeeze every penny it can out of us with as little investment in our welfare as is possible. A wealthy elite will prosper and we will all pay for it.

The difference between the UK and USA is that US citizens are armed and dangerous…

SHOULD WE TRUST THE CHINESE?

Interesting articles have appeared across the media on Chinese investment in the UK, sparked by their offer to build a nuclear power station here. They will almost certainly insist on manning and running it, for that is what they have done in other countries where they’ve invested. So, who are the Chinese and should we trust them?

The Chancellor, George Osborne, is in China to practice his bowing skills and negotiate a deal that will result in Chinese cash part-funding Britain’s newest nuclear power station. Hinkley Point C in Somerset is to be built to the blueprint of an already existing Chinese nuclear power plant.

China is a one-party communist state, and all their nationals who are allowed to travel abroad work for state owned companies and are party members. They swear an oath of allegiance to the state, and that is where their loyalties lie. When they invest in developing countries, most notably in over a dozen African states, they go straight to State House and hold behind closed doors meetings with those in power.

They are not interested in democracy, only in making deals. From Africa they want their minerals, from Europe they want to increase their power and influence. They are not motivated by personal greed, and therefore their values and motives remain hidden to clumsy Western politicians. In developing countries their deals consist of mineral and mining rights in exchange for infrastructure development (as I have witnessed from my time working in Africa). They will build roads, railways, clinics, schools, office and residential buildings, using local materials and labour, but with Chinese foremen, engineers, architects and other professionals. Work permits are usually hurried through in days, whilst other foreign workers are made to wait in frustration. They opened a black-windowed branch of Bank of China in the capital city I worked in, as they have nothing to do with Western finance systems, apart from assiduously collecting US dollars.

How does this system work in the UK? The answer is, we don’t know. What is being offered in exchange? What are they really after to increase their power and influence over us? They have seen our weakness – money. I would hope that personal inducements to our leaders would be politely declined, but who knows? Our politics in the West are supposed to be open to scrutiny from civil society and the media, who report back to the citizens. The Chinese have state-owned media and control access to the internet. They will feel uncomfortable at their deals being made public, and will try to control the information flow, posing a challenge to our journalists.

This is a clash of cultural inducement practices – the secretive but direct; ‘How much do you want?’ approach of the Chinese versus the; ‘We would want contracts for private firms’ gambit favoured by our politicians, with one eye on future directorships. They are patient and will play a long game to get what they really want. Witness the last Governor of Hong Kong, Chris Patten, threatening to sell off military land in key strategic locations, unless the Chinese agreed to allow democratic elections and a system of self-government in the former colony. They were not happy at being forced into a corner. Now, a few years down the line, witness the democracy protests being crushed and a loyal party member appointed as effective Governor. They get their way in the end.

Practically all UK and US political decisions are based on capitalist values, thinly dressed up as ‘the public good’. This is a cause for concern, because with opening the door to Chinese ‘investment’, we are opening the lid of Pandora’s Box. Their politics are based on growing the power and influence of a one party state, and their citizens are voiceless cogs in the machine. Our power stations, utilities, air and sea ports are seen as key strategic assets, and any foreign ownership should be questioned. We are dealing with a largely secretive communist state that has only recently emerged from being a closed society to calmly taking up its position as a major World power. They have joined our game, but they have their own rules.

Our political leaders are like pioneering spacemen encountering an alien species for the first time, inquisitive and seemingly friendly, but a complete cultural unknown. Smile and say hello… just before it bites your head off.

OTHER CHINESE INVESTMENTS IN TRANSPORT, PROPERTY AND UTILITIES:

 

In October 2013, it was announced that Beijing Construction Engineering Group would be investing £800m into a new area of Manchester Airport called Airport City. The development will provide logistics, manufacturing, office and leisure facilities for Britain’s third busiest airport.

 

In October 2012, 10% of Heathrow Airport was sold to the China Investment Corporation – China’s sovereign wealth fund. The deal took ownership of Britain’s busiest airport to more than 40% controlled by the Chinese, Qatari and Singaporean governments.

 

Britain’s busiest port – Felixstowe in Suffolk – has been wholly owned since 1994 by Hutchisons Port Holdings, a subsidiary of Hong Kong-based CK Hutchison, run by Chinese-born magnate and billionaire Li Ka-shing. The port has its own police, fire and ambulance services.

 

In 2012, China Investment Corporation – the state-owned fund responsible for managing the country’s foreign exchange reserves – bought a 9% stake in Thames Water, which provides and manages the water supply for 15 million people in and around London.

 

Northumbrian Water, which provides water and sewerage for 2.7 million people in Northumberland, Tyne and Wear, Durham, parts of North Yorkshire and parts of Essex and Suffolk is wholly owned by a subsidiary of CK Hutchison.

 

Veolia Water, a France-based company that owns a small part of the UK water firm Affinity Water, is itself 10% owned by SAFE-IC, the Hong Kong subsidiary of China’s State Administration of Foreign Exchange. Affinity provides water to 3.5 million people in Bedfordshire, Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Essex, Hertfordshire, Surrey, and six London boroughs.

 

In December 2012, China’s State Administration of Foreign Exchange (SAFE-IC) bought almost half of the Co-operative Group’s future headquarters in Manchester, called One Angel Square. It also bought 40% of UPP Group Holdings, a major provider of student accommodation in Britain and 100% of City of London glass and steel office block Drapers’ Gardens.

 

Until earlier this year, China Investment Corporation (CIC) owned 19% of Songbird Estates, the parent company of London’s Canary Wharf, home to many of the UK’s largest banks including Barclays and HSBC. It eventually sold up after a bid from a Qatari company. CIC still owns 100% of the City of London headquarters of Deutsche Bank, according to Pinsent Masons LLP.