Butthole Surfers – Rocky. Margaret Thatcher 1925 – 2013.

People crack under pressure. All people. There’s no shame in this but society will stand distant. That’s the way it is. It’s wrong. Ignorant, ill-informed stances need to change.

Margaret Thatcher died today. As a 9-year-old I saw her become Prime Minister. I understood. I saw buses change. Little things. The bus that took me to my Nan’s disappeared. It wasn’t profitable. I was a kid. I understood. I walked. Some things are more important than money.

Things got worse. I began to understand more. Little things. Important little things changed. Self importance, greed and money became important. Little things became bigger things. Ethics were pushed to the side. The cult of the individual. Call it what you want. Power. Self.

Council Estates changed. Divides appeared. Pressure on those with little. Move on. Move UP. Why?

I will not celebrate a death.

I can recall the impact of the Poll Tax and its impact on my circle of friends as a 19-year-old. The youth cut adrift. Expectancy to pay as much as the rich. We felt it. Unlike recent unrests bricks flew with fury – not in search of goodies from JD Sports.

The result? People crack under pressure. I see it all the time. Close people. People I do not know also. Many of them. Take a trip on a bus. Have a look at the evidence. Expectancy has risen further. People cannot cope. People are not to blame. There is a big mess out there. No wonder people struggle.

Thatcher. A strong woman but a wrong woman. I wish her no disrespect. There’s no point in being angry. Try not to get lost in the rain…

Well all of my friends, baby
They’re going insane, now
Look up at my fingers, baby
Get lost in the rain
Halfway off the g-round
Jumping oughta down
Afraid to hear the sound
Of all that’s going down
Na na na na baby
Hey Hey Hey Hey
Dear Baby Jesus
Here are my shoes
They don’t smell so hot
But they’ve never read the news
Well all of my friends, baby
They thought I’m insane, now
Look up at my fingers, darlin
Get lost in the rain
Walking through a haze
Of shattered memories
They’re flying through the trees
Their roots are at my knees
Na na na na baby
Hey Hey Hey Heeeeeeeeey
Afraid to hear the sound

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