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As southern England faces a summer of drought …


… thanks to the the greed and inefficiencies of the water companies, and we are forced to contemplate drinking our whisky [1] neat:

My father was for most of his life the very bluest of deep-dyed, loyal, royal blue Conservatives, but he turned his back on the party, and resigned his membership of the Carlton Club, when the Thatcher government privatised the water ‘industry’ in 1989. His view was that all the other privatisations were non-essential, but that a civilised country should provide potable water to its citizens. That was the point at which, in his view, Thatcher went mad and believed that she could walk on … well … water. One year later, the rest of the Cabinet came to the same conclusion and sent her into the metaphorical library with the metaphorical revolver and bottle of whisky.

[1] That’s very kind of you. Make mine a Lagavulin, Bruichladdich or Caol Ila. I do like those peaty, iodiney Islay malts, but perhaps just a little later in the day.


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