The Auntie Doris Years: 1994

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Things were changing too fast for me. When all the shops started opening on a Sunday, it just felt wrong. The world was going mad. Not that I thought that it would upset God or anything. I never believed in him, if the truth be told, but it was just wrong. Sundays were for families, and silly odd jobs around the house, and resting. They were for “Songs of Ruddy Praise” on the television if you liked that sort of thing, or even going to a real church rather than just worshipping the One Eyed God in the corner. Maybe they were for getting a bit bored, twiddling your thumbs, re-charging your batteries. They were not, in my opinion, for more ruddy shopping.
Ohh I can hear you now; “You didn’t have to go shopping, you silly old bat. You could have stayed in and been miserable if it meant that much to you.” But that wasn’t the point. You couldn’t visit family because they were all too busy, fannying about in Argos or somewhere, the roads were full of traffic, and we had lost something. Another bit of the British way of life gone, even as John Ruddy Major was harping on about “Back to Basics”, and “Core British Values.” The only Core British Value the Tories understand is finding different ways of taking money off people, and having the shops open on a Sunday meant that they could do it Seven days a week! There’s only Christmas left sacred now, and even that’s a festival of taking money off people. They’ll be having the shops open on Christmas Day an’all before long. You wait and see.
Talk about taking money off people, the Tories introduced their famous “Tax on the Gullible” in ’94 an’all. The National Lottery. Ohh, you’ve got to “be in it to win it” alright. But at odds of 14 million to one, you could be playing it for 250,000 years before you had an evens chance of a decent win. Ohh it’s all for good causes alright, like that time when Winston Churchill’s grandson (another ruddy Tory MP and not a patch on his grandad) sold the old man’s diaries for twelve million quid. Paid for by lottery money. Twelve million quid, of ordinary, gullible people’s money. And as for the rest of the good causes; doesn’t the government raise taxes to help deservant people and organisations? Or is it all spent on weapons, and jollies for politicians, and their friends, and glossy leaflets to stick through your door?
If they were serious about helping people, they would have let that nice Richard Branston run the lottery last time it came up. But no. They even tried to con him out of his trains. Honestly. I ruddy well despair.
Auntie Doris’s top pop hit of 1994: “Things Can Only Get Better” by D-Ream. It was a nice idea, and Non-Socialist Labour used it to good effect a few years later on. But back in 94, I think they were being optimistic.

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