First of all let me say a big ‘Hullo!’ to all you discerning readers of the Nev Filter. Thanks to my growing database, I feel that I almost know you personally. (I certainly know where you live!)
I think the biggest literary influence on my life (and by extension, yours) has been George Orwell. I believe that the first of his books I ever read was probably ‘Keep The Aspidistra Flying’, during my student days. It’s all about a young professional man of staunchly egalitarian principles, who wilfully descends into a squalid, futile life of poverty before necessity finally forces him to abandon his cherished beliefs and rejoin the suburban middle classes. I took Orwell’s message to be simply this: why bother with principles in the first place? It took me a while to get them all out of my system, of course, and you’ll find me in the eighties coming out with the occasional line of socialist dogma in interviews; but you can see my heart isn’t really in it!
Actually, now I come to think of it, I must have read ‘Animal Farm’ as a small child. That, as I’m sure you’ll recall, is the one in which Orwell described how a humble pig could rise to the top by pretending to be some kind of socialist. I don’t know why, but that book must have really spoke to me on an instinctive level because I’d quite forgotten that I ever read it. It’s as if its message has permeated every atom of my being. Memory can play strange tricks - as any of you who think you remember me admitting to talking like a socialist in the eighties will surely agree!
Talking of the eighties, that’s when I got round to reading Orwell’s masterpiece, ‘1984’. I remember thinking, “What a perfect vision of society!” and decided to dedicate my life to making his utopian world a reality. I explained the book to my then-friend Tony Blair (naturally, he was too lowbrow to actually read it) and together we set about making it happen. Even before the historic 1997 election, we had created a party in which dissent was ruthlessly quashed, so we were able to hit the ground running. Eleven years on, and just look at our achievements:
TV cameras monitoring people’s daily lives: check!
Permanent state of war: check!
Faceless, unaccountable bureaucracy: check!
Rewriting history to airbrush out embarrassing incidents: check!
The proletarian masses kept docile by beer and undemanding entertainment: check!
Regular media-led Hates to harmlessly dispel the people’s frustration with their powerlessness: check!
Creating an artificial language devoid of all meaning (e.g. ‘New Labour’, ‘war on terror’, ‘patient choice‘, ‘lessons have been learned’, ‘Private Finance Initiative‘, ‘credit crunch’, ‘Employment and Support Allowance’): check!
Job pretty much done, I think you’ll find!
Anyway, recently I’ve been finding the time to read some more of Orwell‘s works. ‘The Road To Wigan Pier’, for example, painted a fascinating picture of how people in the thirties had such a community spirit, despite living in abject poverty. So, as I recreate a similar level of poverty, I’m sure that we’ll soon see a return to the happy, thriving streets of yesteryear! I’ve also taken Orwell’s uncertainty about council housing to heart - which is why I’m encouraging local authorities to flog them all off cheap to private landlords. High rents and the constant fear of eviction certainly gave people a mighty powerful incentive to stick at their soul-destroying, poorly-paid jobs, working all the hours God sent just to keep a roof over their heads.
Finally, having just turned the last page of ‘Down And Out In Paris And London’, I’ve been inspired to rack up the pressure on the jobless. I’m looking into all manner of new ways to cut off their benefits as a means of encouraging the feckless workshies into the welcoming clutches of big business. Those of you who can still afford to drive can look forward to seeing armies of the unemployed shuffling along the highways and byways of Britain in a desperate search for work of any kind or, if they’re humble enough to grovel, maybe a grudgingly-given charity handout. Eventually, I hope, they will sod off to France or one of our other European partners and cease to be a blight on the landscape of this wonderful country of ours.
Of course, as an author it has to be admitted that Orwell has his failings. He adopts a hectoring, superior tone at times which I, for one, find seriously irritating. It’s as if, having created and defined a perfect world, he can’t be happy unless he finds some minor fault with it! Honestly, some people are never happy, are they?
Finally, somebody mentioned to me the other day that Orwell also wrote a rather unpleasant book called ‘Homage to Catalonia’, in which he described a nation wracked by bloody civil war, in which the population rose up in favour of socialism - only to find themselves riven by petty internal divisions, brutally crushed by the dark forces of inhuman authoritarianism and subjugated mercilessly under a pitiless, cynical dictator for the next forty years.
Although I must say I don’t really have a problem with the ending, as such, nevertheless the starting premise of this book sounds highly dodgy to me. Fortunately, though, it wasn’t anywhere to be seen on the bookshelves of my local Waterstones - and if they want to be on Peter Mandelson’s list of businesses in line for a life-saving windfall courtesy of the taxpayer, they’ll keep it that way!
Happy reading!
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