A recent marker, in the long spiral
of acquisitive affectations of excel-
lence, the exact moment hasn't been
recorded when we first began to see
hirelings of the politics industry,
wearing the distinctive necktie we'd
been selecting for years. Probably,
the initial crack in the levee came
from a courtier columnist, at a re-
ception of Mrs Graham's. Now every
strutting intern sports the stirrup,
Hogarth's lobbyists supplying whole
stables at the think tanks.
I don't imagine, our thugs have
dared to affect the insouciant rain-
coat, the rakish baseball jacket,
the satiny sellier belts. But that
was the end of the necktie, for most
of us. And it was fitting, that our
evacuation left these figures ex-
posed as the charlatans of indul-
gence in craftsmanship and design
that they are in representation and
probity. I'd love to see the house
imprint a Daumier scarf for them.
But, look again. We'll always have
our haircut.
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