Lede

“Tax the rich, save the poor!” — the slogan sounds noble until you realise it’s just political karaoke. The rich don’t lose sleep; they hire accountants. The poor don’t get rescued; they get another lecture about “tightening belts” while CEOs loosen theirs at banquets.

The bigger scam

The bigger scam? Even when governments squeeze a little more, the money drips down like sludge into potholes, consultancy contracts, and half-built rail projects no one asked for. No hospitals gleaming, no schools thriving — just another report reminding us the gap is wide enough to fit the Thames through.

Victorian comeback

Britain, the empire of Dickens and smokestacks, is somehow queuing up for another Victorian age — but this time the lords wear tailored suits and shout “growth” while paying less tax than the corner shop. Middle class? Vanishing. Poor class? Expanding. Rich? Offshore, baby.

Noblesse oblige, actually

If noblesse oblige still meant anything, billionaires would be building libraries, funding apprenticeships, planting green energy fields, and giving back to the society that props up their yachts. Instead, they clutch at loopholes, grin for photo ops, and act surprised when people start muttering about guillotines.

Not charity. Redistribution.

We don’t need charity crumbs. We need redistribution with spine, not PR. Because a “living wage” that dies halfway through the month isn’t living — it’s surviving, and barely at that.

The Hermit take

The rich built castles on our backs. At least in the old days they left a chapel or a school behind. Now we just get slogans.

Keep or toss

Toss. Into the Thames.