Cameron: “We’re going on a bear hunt” (or something).
Monday 15th July was a big day of party games for Cameron and it all started with a fun trip to an airshow. Perhaps mindful of the long night of musical chairs that lay ahead of him, Dave limbered up by telling a few fairy tales.
The general theme of these was that it’s not the woods you want to watch out for but the failed states. The wolves, or bears, or bogey men are, however, real and because of the National Health Service (or because they want to kill us – I’m not sure which) they’re all sprinting towards Britain as fast as possible. So we must fight them. On the beaches. No, not on the beaches, on the cliffs. No, not on the cliffs. Definitely not the cliffs. Everyone knows that if you’re going to hunt bears you either go somewhere that has bears or you do the more obvious thing of taking a family outing from your front door, crossing an improbable assortment of terrain before freaking out, running home and hiding under the duvet.
None of this comes cheap. Which is why, over the last few years our benevolent leaders have been carefully closing libraries, sacking lollipop ladies and getting cancer-ridden shirkers back to work. Because bears, heffalumps etc. are pretty much impossible to see without really expensive American paranoia devices, Dave is tooling up. Once there’s a US style defence budget to justify, we’ll be seeing Gruffalos round every corner.
What Dave makes abundantly clear is that we’re not going to find any bears on the White Cliffs of Dover, or even in the Channel. But he won’t rest until he does find a bear (or other fictional archetype). And he’s not going to miss out on finding bears by being thrifty. Oh no.