Some Irrelevant Questions About the Euro-Zone

I'm always in trouble for asking "irrelevant questions" and "missing the point". So why change a habit of a lifetime?

"Can you come home and make yourself useful? Mrs McAffarty's cat is stuck up a tree."

"What tree?"

"Well, it's the one... Och... never mind what tree! What does it matter, what tree? Just bring yourself and your ladder home".

"Which ladder?"

(Sigh), "The one that you use for going up trees - dear Henry!" (Sigh).

My name isn't Henry BTW and I'm not dear either. In fact, I'm anyone's for a nice cup of tea and a Jammy Dodger. It's just that my wife usually sings a couple of stanzas of, 'There's a Hole in My Bucket', every time she wants to ridicule me for asking, (what she considers to be) irrelevant questions. Mind you, the cat-up-tree anecdote is a mild example of the sort of crises that can emerge during almost forty years of marriage. It hasn't been easy, but we're still together; it cost her about the equivalent of seven shillings and sixpence (7'6) for a marriage licence in these days, and I’m still trying to get her money's worth.

Apparently, I just don't get it. (I don’t mean her money's worth). She goes on about something she thinks is important that's happened and I open my big mouth and ask the wrong question. Even a simple little question like, "Well, what kind of question would you like me to ask?" seems to be the wrong kind of question.

"Well, I'm just trying to decide which ladder would best suit the job."

"Bring them all - dear Henry!" (Loud exasperated sigh - verging on a gasp.)

When the tone reaches that pitch, I know the argument's over for me.

Anyway, as I said earlier, why break a habit of a lifetime? So here's a question. Is there going to be a Euro-zone naughty-step? I realise, of course, that that's another irrelevant question, and the clue is - that I seem to be the only person asking it. I've been listening intently to the news from the pundits and politicos, about this interminable 'Euro-zone crisis' - when I get a chance. Although, like most ordinary folk who have a job, I don't get much chance to sit idly by the TV these days, because, I'm too busy working to pay for the shenanigans of the world's banking cartel and their sundry apologists and general hangers-on. You’ll know who I mean, even if you don’t accept the disparagement.

Here are some more, apparently irrelevant questions: How often do we hear the word democracy mentioned? What about the word referendum? How often do they mention the electorate, when they're divvying up the leftovers now that we’ve had our metaphoric chips? Mind you, we all know that the electorate will loom large on the invoicing list. Just look at the price of fuel and you’ll know what I mean by that. And here’s the ultimate, biggie, irrelevant question. What penalties? Nobody ever seems to ask, “What penalties?” Yet, that’s all my tiny mind seems to home in on. Well, I’ve already admitted to my penchant for asking irrelevant questions - so there.

Now, I’ve never voted for a Tory in my life. The nearest I ever got to that, was when I voted for New Labour in 1997, and then I realised within six months that I might as well have voted for the Tories. But I had a disconcerting sense of affinity with UK Tory Prime Minister, David Cameron on Thursday when he was cordially invited, on his electorate’s behalf, to sign up to what one might colloquially describe as ‘a pig in a poke’.

Of course, he claimed he was “putting Britain’s interests first”, as he would. I suspect he was putting Britain’s bankers first, but then, maybe that's just my cynical mind at work. I heard some talk of ‘banking reforms’, from the ‘Mercozy’ duo - no specifics, mind you. And the dreaded ‘austerity measures’, that they bandy about to frighten the little people - who are duly petrified into compliance, for fear of losing their materialistic lifestyles. However, I don’t think that that had him transfixed with vexation either. I could be wrong.

Anyway, to return to my nagging, big question, (what penalties?) I doubt if that had much to do with our embattled premier’s reluctance to sign. Yet, it seems that 26 other countries have signed up - with gay abandon, (if we can we say that sort of thing, these days). This is a worrying feeling, for me, empathising with a Tory toff. But when it comes to dodgy deals, in my experience, signing has always proved more problematic than not signing, so I truly recognise his quandary. Proverbial devils and deep blue seas, or frying pans and fires, spring to my mind too.

I’ve often found myself alone with my refusal to sign up to dodgy contracts, unclear, convoluted and with myriad legalistic pitfalls. I just have to ask myself, “what kind of character would dream up all this stuff”, and I know what I must do. It would seem easier just to sign up along with the rest of the pack and shuffle off to the pub - hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. But I’ve never yet regretted refusing to sign for a pig in a poke, and although Tory/New Labour regulation-light policies were invariably at the root of the problems I’ve encountered, I still felt some affinity with Cameron this past Thursday.

Anyway, here are some more irrelevant questions: What “penalties” will these erstwhile sovereign nation states, have to pay, having signed up to this new treaty? What if their electorate eventually manage to elect governments with enough gumption and integrity to defy the world’s banking cartel? What if, one fine day, they eventually recognise money for the mere manipulative device it is? What 'penalties' will these Euro-Zoners have to pay if they refuse to watch their fellow citizens, starve, or suffer the indignities and tribulations of homelessness, avoidable ill health and unnecessary and unjust sweatshop working conditions? What penalties will they have to pay if they demand decency and democracy? Will the EU build an enormous 'naughty-step' upon which an entire miscreant nation must sit, if it dares to feed its hungry and comfort those who lose in life's lottery?

I don’t care if I’m back again, asking irrelevant questions, and I’m glad our PM refused to sign up to the treaty. His idea of relevance might not be the same as mine, as incidentally, is often the case between my wife and me. I doubt if any of my kind of ideas would ever be relevant to his decision-making, as similarly, I seldom influence any of my wife's decisions.

As for signing agreements and treaties, I must say, (in case she ever learns to use a computer), I've never regretted signing up to the agreement for which my wife paid seven shillings and sixpence (7'6), all these years ago. Although, I’ll quickly point out the obvious - that I didn’t rush into it with ‘gay’ abandon either. Her unstinting, and trusting nature, puts me to shame. She sees the good in everyone - and that confounds me. She often looks askance when I claim that I wasn't born a cynic, for she’s a hard one to equal when it comes to stoically toeing the line whilst continuing to put all others’ needs before her own. Despite the ideological changes we've seen, as the years took their toll, that's been her habit of a lifetime.

I have two last admissions to make before I end this blog. Firstly, the marriage certificate didn't cost my wife 7’6; we married in 1973. The old money (UK) ended in 1970, so it cost seventy-something new pence, as we made ready to join up to an organisation generally known then as the Common Market. Secondly, on the day that Mrs McAffarty's (BTW, careful with the pronunciation) cat got stuck up the tree, my most irrelevant questions weren't “what tree” and “which ladder”, they were, “what cat” and, “which Mrs McAffarty”?