Shoot The Piano Player
Nick Clegg has sought to ease fears that he is downgrading child poverty targets by announcing the establishment of a child poverty and social mobility commission – a measure charities feared had been shelved.
Clegg also said the government would aim to end the culture of people being given internships because of “who they know, rather than what they know”.
The push to open up internships is one of the measures outlined to ensure career progression is less dependent on “who your father’s friends are”.
—Nick Clegg, in a speech to the Commons, The Guardian, today
This speech was reported in The Guardian with little comment. It took The Evening Standard (The Evening fucking Standard, for Christ’s sake) to get the real story, which they splashed in 20 point bold on the front page of the West End Final edition:
Daddy Got Clegg Bank Intern Job
His (Clegg’s) spokesman said: ” He had help through family connections. Someone in his family knew someone in the bank.” The spokesman confirmed that it was Mr. Clegg’s father, Nicholas, chairman of United Trust Bank. —The Evening Standard, today
Under the aegis of floppy-haired piano bore and Mr. Pooter manque, Alan Rusbridger, (or ‘Rubbisher’ as Private Eye calls him), The Grauniad has become a sad joke: rife with nepotism (of the many thousands of candidates for a Guardian job, the paper decided that one Isabella Mackie was ideal–just a coincidence, of course, that she’s Rusbridger’s daughter), obsessed with fashion and identity politics, to the point of allowing The Evening Standard ( a paper that many Londoners used to call The Evening Fascist, so ugly were many of its stances) to make the running.
Perhaps it would be best all around if the tax-dodging Guardian Media Group just sold the loss-making near-comic (loss-making to the tune of some £40 million last year alone) to a Russian oligarch.
The Evening Standard (formerly owned by the vile Daily Mail group) now belongs to a Russian oligarch (i.e. thief) and it’s all the better for it. Ditto, The Independent. The censorious middle-class bores, the smug prigs and the bourgeois teenage trendies who run the Guardian have destroyed a once great paper.
A Russian looter with a flair for dirty fighting is just the thing to revive the Grauniad’s genteel, spineless near-corpse.