Post by Teddy Bear on Jun 1, 2013 18:12:55 GMT
Tongue in cheek look at what the future might hold for us, courtesy of the BBC.
The decline and fall of the liberal empire
By Damian Thompson
Primrose Hill isn't looking its best these days
It’s the summer of 2043. A father and his eight-year-old son trudge across the tundra of north London. Despite the watery August sun, the frozen grass crackles under their heavy boots.
“Look!” says the man. “Do you see the ruins on top of that hill?”
Silhouetted against the sky are the remnants of grand houses. The roofs have fallen in, the grey stucco has buckled and crumbled. It’s hard to imagine that these villas and terraces were once a visual feast of pastel pink and yellow.
“You’re looking at the remains of Primrose Hill,” says the father.
“Daddy, what’s a primrose?”
“A lovely creamy yellow flower.” He sighs wistfully. “They all disappeared in the Great Freeze. Like so much else.”
“And who lived on Primrose Hill?”
“They were a tribe called the liberals, but they don’t exist any more.
“Do you remember me telling you about the Mayans, who disappeared almost overnight? It was a bit like that. Things started going really badly for the liberals in about 2013…”
The boy perks up. “Did they do human sacrifices like the Mayans? Did they worship savage gods?”
“No human sacrifices,” chuckles his father. “But, yes, they had some very bizarre religious beliefs.
“For example, they thought the centre of the earth was in a place called Brussels in Belgium. Like the primroses, it doesn’t exist any more, but it was a mixture of Holland and France and it printed toy money that no one wanted.
“Brussels was famous for its nosey parkers who bossed everyone around. They pretended they were emperors of Europe. Everyone hated them – except the liberals. Eventually the ordinary people rose up and destroyed the empire.”
“Was it as bad as the fall of the Roman Empire?”
“Oh, much worse. And the liberals were doubly upset because, at the same time, they were proved wrong about something called global warming.
“You see, they thought the planet was getting very, very hot and the only way to stop it exploding into flames was to pay extremely high taxes.”
“Global warming? That’s just crazy. It’s never warm,” says the boy, shivering in his duffle coat. “Why did the liberals think those things?”
“Has your history teacher taught you about the BBC? It was a government broadcaster that took everyone else’s money to make programmes specially for the liberals.
“According to the BBC, the North Pole was just about to melt and you’d see camels in Greenland. Also, it encouraged children to spy on their parents in case they were naughty and wasted energy.
“But then some of the global warming prophets – scary rich men with names like Yeo – suddenly changed their minds. They said the planet wasn’t getting hot after all, that the scientists had been tricking them – and of course they were right.”
“Daddy, were the liberals terribly upset when they were proved wrong?”
The man pauses as he surveys the ghostly ruins of Primrose Hill. Should he mention the sudden rush to the Dignitas clinics?
Best not. “Well, they cried a lot and did this strange thing called wringing your hands.” He gives a demonstration.
“How funny,” says the boy. He copies the gesture and makes a mental note to teach it to his school chums. It will be like a secret handshake!
“Anyway, that’s enough about the liberals,” says the father. “Let’s get back in the snowmobile and go home for tea. Mummy’s toasting some crumpets. And the Prime Minister is giving a talk on the wireless.”
“Oh goody,” says his son. “I do like Lord Farage.”
By Damian Thompson
Primrose Hill isn't looking its best these days
It’s the summer of 2043. A father and his eight-year-old son trudge across the tundra of north London. Despite the watery August sun, the frozen grass crackles under their heavy boots.
“Look!” says the man. “Do you see the ruins on top of that hill?”
Silhouetted against the sky are the remnants of grand houses. The roofs have fallen in, the grey stucco has buckled and crumbled. It’s hard to imagine that these villas and terraces were once a visual feast of pastel pink and yellow.
“You’re looking at the remains of Primrose Hill,” says the father.
“Daddy, what’s a primrose?”
“A lovely creamy yellow flower.” He sighs wistfully. “They all disappeared in the Great Freeze. Like so much else.”
“And who lived on Primrose Hill?”
“They were a tribe called the liberals, but they don’t exist any more.
“Do you remember me telling you about the Mayans, who disappeared almost overnight? It was a bit like that. Things started going really badly for the liberals in about 2013…”
The boy perks up. “Did they do human sacrifices like the Mayans? Did they worship savage gods?”
“No human sacrifices,” chuckles his father. “But, yes, they had some very bizarre religious beliefs.
“For example, they thought the centre of the earth was in a place called Brussels in Belgium. Like the primroses, it doesn’t exist any more, but it was a mixture of Holland and France and it printed toy money that no one wanted.
“Brussels was famous for its nosey parkers who bossed everyone around. They pretended they were emperors of Europe. Everyone hated them – except the liberals. Eventually the ordinary people rose up and destroyed the empire.”
“Was it as bad as the fall of the Roman Empire?”
“Oh, much worse. And the liberals were doubly upset because, at the same time, they were proved wrong about something called global warming.
“You see, they thought the planet was getting very, very hot and the only way to stop it exploding into flames was to pay extremely high taxes.”
“Global warming? That’s just crazy. It’s never warm,” says the boy, shivering in his duffle coat. “Why did the liberals think those things?”
“Has your history teacher taught you about the BBC? It was a government broadcaster that took everyone else’s money to make programmes specially for the liberals.
“According to the BBC, the North Pole was just about to melt and you’d see camels in Greenland. Also, it encouraged children to spy on their parents in case they were naughty and wasted energy.
“But then some of the global warming prophets – scary rich men with names like Yeo – suddenly changed their minds. They said the planet wasn’t getting hot after all, that the scientists had been tricking them – and of course they were right.”
“Daddy, were the liberals terribly upset when they were proved wrong?”
The man pauses as he surveys the ghostly ruins of Primrose Hill. Should he mention the sudden rush to the Dignitas clinics?
Best not. “Well, they cried a lot and did this strange thing called wringing your hands.” He gives a demonstration.
“How funny,” says the boy. He copies the gesture and makes a mental note to teach it to his school chums. It will be like a secret handshake!
“Anyway, that’s enough about the liberals,” says the father. “Let’s get back in the snowmobile and go home for tea. Mummy’s toasting some crumpets. And the Prime Minister is giving a talk on the wireless.”
“Oh goody,” says his son. “I do like Lord Farage.”