Cupid’s Counsel

Perry has gone and got my creative juices flowing. I’ve already drafted the copy for the advertisement that I intend to place in all the Singles Columns:

“Practice safe sex! If you’ve arranged a date this morning, call me this afternoon.”

You can hardly blame me for wanting to cash in on (yet another) government ‘crackdown’. I’m getting too old to chase ambulances and voyeurism sounds like a far more appealing way to make a living.

‘Crackdown’. HMG just loves that word. They crackdown on this, they crackdown on that. Whenever they suspect that the British tax cattle have forgotten why exactly it is they need all these overpaid suits in Whitehall, out they come with another ‘crackdown’, straight from the Must-Be-Seen-To-Be-Doing-Something School of Political Science. HMG has become like an angry man who can no longer communicate with his children so he just takes his belt to them every now and then to keep them from asking so many stupid questions.

However, the thing about ‘crackdowns’ is that, very often, they never actually materialise. They’re announced, trumpeted by a compliant media for a while and, by the time the news-wagon has rolled on to the next terrorist atrocity or Boy Band break-up, it’s all been forgotten about.

This ‘crackdown’ on the sex laws has that familiar ring to it. They’ll probably knock it around at committee stage for a while, draft some new laws, put them before their own laywers for advice, be told that their ideas are insane, unworkable and likely to lead to chaos and then the whole thing will be quietly filed away. However, in the meantime, sufficient kerfuffle has been made to keep some radical marxoid feminist wing of the Labour Party quiet until after the next election.

I’m just speculating of course and I could (Lord help us) be wrong. So I shall maintain a watching brief in the meantime; one that I shall not actually be able to charge for. Damn!