Clap clap clap

There's so much I don't believe.

So there was this thing the night before last when people went out on their doorsteps and gave the NHS a round of applause. There's something so kind about it; for many people it was an act of love and gratitude straight from the heart, sincere and very real respect.

Then I watched Boris Johnson clapping away outside of Number 10, and remembered that in 2017, he was one of the tory MPs whooping and cheering because they had defeated a bill to give nurses a payrise. Later - I think it might even be the same month - he and his fellow beggars voted for a payrise for themselves. Still, clap, clap, clap, old boy, and the cameras love it and the folk wipe a tear from their eye and we're all in this together and god bless us every one. Clap clap clap.

What is the point of clapping for people today if your vote impoverished them yesterday? If we respect someone's work, why don't we pay them and protect them? Where's the solid? Clapping while these people end up knackered and poor because our applause never reaches our goddamn pockets, what the f*ck is that? It's like saying 'I'm sorry' rather than making efforts to redress a wrong. Pay them. Pay them well. Give them good working conditions, good protective gear. Don't overwork them. Don't try to guilt trip them into being cheap angels. They're not angels, they're humans and humans need sleep and happiness and homes and food.

But hey, clap clap clap. Four years down the line who will folk vote for? Best not to think about that. Clap clap clap.