In Praise of What's Under the Bushell

I am bombarded with corporate literature about values, successes and initiatives; only to find that my annual bonus is nil pounds because the business is performing like a lead duck. This article in today's Times strikes a chord. One of the reasons I am so enamoured of living flesh, be it lover, daughter, kitten or friend, is that I can direct my senses to discovering the veracity of my ideas about these entities. As for the corporate entities upon which I, and my beloveds, depend for our sustenance - it is appalling that we are compelled to wallow in a mire of corporate incompetence, self interest, bad spelling, syntax and grammar, and general narcissistic indulgence; but I suppose it has always been thus. I think that the pull of communism was a recognition of this tribal sickness, a pricipaled action by a middle class elite with no better ideology in view. I have some sympathy with Philby, Blunt, Burgess and McClean - perhaps they saw a free market 1984 and thought genuine totalitarianism more honest?