Jeremy Hunt
Dear Jeremy Hunt,
These are mean and ugly times.

Times when greed is God and the fiscal bullies run amok. A time when weak men bully doctors. A time when wealth is more important than health and a time when the bullies from the Bullingdon make a virtue out of the virtueless.

Jeremy, this is a time when people like you with Wikipedia entries that are like lists of Dukes and Earls think that welfare and looking after each other are swear words and have become an alien idea. A time when the homeless bodies pile up in the streets and the country is living on frayed nerve endings, a time where the government is at war with the people and a time when the rich, for some reason, think that 10 million is not enough and the poor are cowed into a corner with their rights stripped away from them by stealth.

Jeremy your part in this ugly governance has seen you manage to make even James Blunt seem cool as he handed over his name as official cockney rhythm slang to you today. That takes some doing and is not even a micro measure of what we all feel about you.

Your government has been merciless in its persecution of the rest of us since you grabbed power. Never have such a despicable bunch of rogues, sneaks, cads, bounders, bullies, villains and plain old greedy bastards strode so arrogantly through the portals of power since Thatcher’s day.

At least Maggie didn’t do it whilst singing and dancing to our tunes. She would never claim to be a Smiths fan or mix up her West hams and Aston Villas like you boss the adman Cameron did when he forgot the name of his granddads own club – the one that he pretends to support.

Just like Thatcher, though, the state seems to be at war with its own people. Punishing the public for the mistakes of the wealthy. Austerity is the battering ram and broken lives in the result. The way you and your Ganga ct you have to ask what is the point of the government?

Jeremy, it’s all a matter of what you think people are worth.

If you think that doctors with tired eyes and shredded nerve endings are good for patients then you are in the wrong job. If you think you can squeeze every lost drop out of every person on slave ship UK and get away with it then you are in the wrong job. If you think by blackmailing people who care because you know they hate to strike as it goes against every moral fibre in their body’s then you are in the wrong job. If you think that they can be battered by your media battering ram and made to feel guilty about trying to do their job properly then you are in the wrong job. If you think the NHS is yours to sell like a second hand car and people’s health is a political plaything then you are in the wrong job and the cockney rhyming slang for your name is just not enough.

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Award winning journalist and boss of Louder Than War. In a 30 year music writing career, John was the first to write about bands such as Stone Roses and Nirvana and has several best selling music books to his name. He constantly tours the world with Goldblade and the Membranes playing gigs or doing spoken word and speaking at music conferences.


  1. Anybody that has known me as long as you have, John, will also know my politics. They will be (wearily) familiar with my gobby, opinionated, socialist rants. One of the many things I have always believed is that the key motivation behind governing the great, heaving, multicultural, heterogeneous mass that inhabits these British Isles, is that you have to care – really care – about the people you govern. In fact, Balls-Out Betty (more correctly known as Elizabeth I) was fond of declaring that the reason she would never marry was that she was already “married” to her people. A good monarch, back in the days of absolute rule, evinced love for their subjects – and meant it, I believe – even if they had a bloody funny way of showing it sometimes (bloody being the operative word on many an occasion). As much as I have always been passionately, diametrically opposed to Tory ideology, and thought their “business model” was no way to run a country (or even a fucking ballroom for that matter*), oddly, I always thought they were sincere in thinking that they had the best interests of the country at heart. Utterly and disastrously wrong, mind, but sincere nevertheless. Whenever the Tories were in power I still felt relatively safe. I still felt that most of the things we all relied on would continue, if somewhat shakily. It was convincingly argued by some that there weren’t actually that many major differences between the two main parties. Political analyst R T McKenzie made this famous observation: “two great monolithic structures now face each other and conduct furious arguments about the comparatively minor issues that separate them”. Such were the politics I grew up with. But oh, how chillingly different it is now. Politics, for this bunch of Tories, is purely about lining their own pockets. It’s about dividing up the spoils between them and their cronies. It’s about returning to abject Victorian poverty for the rest of us, if that’s what it takes to enrich those few who clearly feel more entitled, more deserving, more naturally privileged, than the rest of us. Hunt taking on the junior doctors is merely the warm-up, the support act. Headlining are the utter destruction of the NHS, the welfare state, the education system, the fire service, the prison service, local authorities’ services such as care homes, clinics, child care…and so on and so on. Do NOT underestimate their agenda. Do not think that ultimately we’ll be OK. For the first time in my life, I am genuinely terrified. I am 54. If this carries on, when I am old, there will be no safety net. I may die for lack of money. There will be no hospital bed if I am ill, no care home. Make no mistake, this lot DO NOT CARE. They want us to learn a lesson; they want us to know, in no uncertain terms that kindness and caring, even a faint sense of responsibility for the populace, from government, is over. It was a blip. They are delighted when some sad no-mark commits suicide. It’s one less to worry about and it drives the lesson home that we are dross; unimportant, irrelevant and frankly, a downright fucking nuisance.


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