YOU could have knocked me down with a feather. Somehow, my name was on the list of the great, the good and the bad at Baroness Thatcher’s funeral.
Not that I would have gone … I was booked in for a knee operation that day and I had requested a double dose of anaesthetic to be administered.
Just like last week when I was one of the 150-plus Labour MPs missing from the Westminster shindig to mark her passing. To be frank, I would have preferred to be in a torture chamber than the Commons Chamber for that event.
The same Tory grandees who kicked Maggie out like a dog in the night were the first in the queue to pay tribute.
As a former miner, I could not mourn her passing. Instead, I mourn the communities she killed off and all her victims, few of whom died in the Ritz.
She de-industrialised Britain – the pits, shipyards, steel works, and car factories. She privatised public services to enrich fat cats. She unleashed the Loadsamoney culture in the City, which eventually led to financial meltdown.
Above all, she condemned at least two generations to the welfare dependency, which her successors are now blaming on the victims rather than the perpetrators.
What I would like to celebrate is the end of Thatcherism, the greed which damaged our country and our proud working class traditions.
I would happily hammer the last nail into the coffin of her callous agenda.
Unfortunately, I cannot. Thatcherism, albeit with a smiley face, is alive and well within the coalition government, and even within some Labour frontbenchers.
Maggie’s legacy lives on, for now at least.