The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Value For Money

Malicious and small-societal persons are insinuating that companies which have donated to the Conservative Party may benefit from the removal of the Audit Commission. Not only was the Commission abolished by Eric Pickles, the paragon of austerity who maintained a second home at the taxpayer's expense because he lived thirty miles from Parliament; but a spokesbeing has said that ministers hoped a hundred different companies would compete for contracts to do the Commission's work, thus driving down costs and offering better value for money, as with railway privatisation and PFI. In the unlikely event that this isn't good enough, the companies themselves have denied any possibility that political contributions may have influenced the Commission's demise. Many of the companies have also contributed to the Labour party, which was in office until a few months ago, and to the Liberal Democrat party, which is in office shoulder to shoulder with the Conservatives; obviously, this removes any hint of suspicion that the companies' interests may be influencing policy. They merely seek to "develop and maintain constructive and balanced relationships with the main political parties", providing "limited non-cash assistance to those parties in areas where we have appropriate expertise", according to PWC, which contributed a paltry half-million in non-cash services, for which it doubtless expected no recompense whatever.

2 Comments:

  • At 10:12 am , Blogger phil said...

    "a hundred different companies would compete for contracts" = x(n-1) numbers of schools of thought contending and x=0 flowers blooming.

    What would Wordsworth have made of it, we wonder?

     
  • At 1:24 pm , Blogger Philip said...

    Composed upon Westminster Bridge, 30 August 2010

    Earth has not any thing to show more fair:
    Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
    A sight so touching in its majesty:
    This Minister doth, like a garment, wear
    The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
    Canary Wharf, the banks, McDonald's lie
    Open unto the punters and the sky;
    All brash and shouty in the crappy air.
    Never did sun more beautifully steep
    With market forces, twit or flit or shill;
    Ne'er saw I, never felt, respect so deep!
    Slim Pickles swilleth at his own sweet will:
    Dear God! those flanks that wobble as we weep,
    As wee black heart awaits the butcher's bill!

     

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