Cannot believe this incompetent government won’t sort this for you

Biblical Edition

Now in the land of Greggs Red Ribbon Roast and Cobb and Co there was an Prime Minister. 

And the name of the Prime Minister was Rob.

And he was not as other Prime Ministers. 

For he did bestride the land. And so much did he bestride the land and also the TV that he was an fearsome colossus. 

And it would sometimes be said you don't see all that many colossuses that come in at five foot three. And this would be said in a whisper if you had any sort of clue.

And Rob did run the show, it would also be one day said, like a bloody Polish shipyard. But that day had not yet come.

And the farmers would leave their oxen and the lambs in their field to come saying, Prime Minister Rob the farming job is looking a bit crook can you prop us up?

And Rob would look upon their aertex shirts and ties and also he would look upon their walk socks and walk shorts.

And he would say, I know you to be men of the land. Verily you are the economy’s backbone. Here is something to prop you up. 

And he did hand to them an shekel for each beast of the field they did declare to own. 

And many were beasts they did declare to know. For their fields did contain multitudes. 

And again and again and ten fold, the farmers would leave the oxen and the lambs in their field and come saying, Prime Minister Rob the farming job is still looking a bit crook can you prop us up a bit more?

And also the dealers of goods would come saying, I hold the import licence for ties and also ball bearings and it’s going pretty good.

And also they would say what do you reckon can I have some more please Prime Minister.

But there came one day an bunch called The Cloth Caps.

And these were not as other Cloth Caps.

For they came saying, look we believe in solidarity forever and whatnot but also we believe in Market Forces.

And also they came saying the thing is, the joint’s broke from propping up the backbone of the economy and what have you. The only thing that’s going to fix this is Market Forces.

And verily they did say unto the nation: Release The Market Forces.

And the Market Forces was an pack of wild dogs. 

And if you were lucky, the Market Forces did become your prized possession and would hunt for you all day long and make you exceeding rich.

And if you were not, they might lift their leg upon you.

And also they might rip away your hand.

And this is not the word of Truth, this is An Metaphor.

But also you might literally get pissed on and lose your hand.

And the people did watch as the Market Forces did run amok making their owners exceeding rich and pissing on the odd person and ripping off a hand.

And the people would say I’m not altogether sure about these Market Forces. I sort of liked it better when you had a job and you got a decent wedge each week, and have you seen what’s happening to the price of houses?

But the men known as Fey, and White, and New Rich did come saying, you need to wake up and smell the barista coffee. I’ve used market forces to get rich as fuck and so can you. No-one’s stopping you pal.

And then they would take their leave saying I’ve got a table for 12.30 sorry.

And this was an thing you did now, instead of Cobb and Co.

And you might try the deep fried camembert. And you might try the Fumé Blanc.

And you might get seven more bottles. And you might say bring us more of that camembert sweetie.

And faithfully did the Market Forces do their hunting and gathering.

And the merchants and their bankers who prospered would tuck in their starched napkins saying, we have earned this. Let us toast our many successes and our business model going forward, and let us toast MARKET FORCES.

And the lunches did become more handsome and toothsome.

And they might have the spanner crab with farmed paua and nasturtium. And perhaps the beef tartare, smoked eel, brown butter and daikon.

And all of this would be brought to their table by a young woman from London and also by a young man from Manila.

And the prosperous diners would be so excited to fall upon their saffron and egg yolk and sorrel and Eastherbrook quail that they would scarce have time to look up and ask: why do all the staff have foreign accents?

And they would pay thirty and forty shekels for a plate, and way more for the wine.

And some in the kitchen would wipe sweat from their brow until one day they would come saying, do you think you could make the wages a little bit more, this isn't enough to live on, you should see the rent I’m paying for my cold hole of a flat.

But the owners did shake their heads saying ah sadly then the meals would be 50 and 60 and 70 a plate and I know our punters are prospering from market forces but they don't want to pay that much. And look, Kirsty from London and Jesus from Manila are happy with the wages. Why can you be more like Kirsty and Jesus? You can't argue with Market Forces.

And the restaurant business model did remain the same going forward.

But then there came upon the land an plague. 

And the borders did slam shut on Kirsty and Jesus and everyone who was all good with shit wages and conditions.

And now the restaurant's owners came saying you have shut the border and now we do not have anyone like Kirsty and Jesus who is happy to work for not all that much what are you going to do about it?

And the people of the orchards come forward saying yeah us too, bloody Market Forces means we can't get anyone local to work for what we’re paying.

And the poor people covered in piss and missing their hands waited to hear someone say: well Market Forces mean you’ll just have to pay what the people will work for.

But the champions of market forces fell silent. And quietly did they eat their aged duck and black garlic. 

And they did look over at the owners with sadness in their eyes as they beckoned for the bill. 

And on the credit card slip they did write: cannot believe this incompetent government won’t sort this for you.