Politikere og pragmatikere

Hva er vel bedre på en dag som denne, enn å slenge noen revkroker i retning opportunistiske politikere og fritenkende pragmatikere som står sterkt og klart på sine... prinsipper.

Her på fjellet, forsatt ruset etter å ha fjernet 6 tonn snø fra taket med mine bare never, samt en spade, orker vi ihvertfall ikke mer enn å gjøre det alle bør gjøre til en vane, sitere Chesterton høyt, rytmisk og rappende.

Med en illustrasjon av ham i beste Pettersen-look.

Og med diktet "The new Freethinker" som satte ett og annet skap på plass for hundre år siden, selv om enkelte i dag nok vil føle at dette blir vel mye kvalifisert kritikk, etter Navarsete-modellen.

Da jeg gjorde noen tapre forsøk på oversette dette til norsk på tidlig 80-tall, begynte det slik (etter hukommelsen, altså feil):

"Ole Nilsen, kort og kraftig
tenkte med seg selv standhaftig
vi'kke leke mer med presten
for jeg hater ham som pesten
Slik en evig strid må rase
mellom tiden ånd, dens fase
og Dogmer, som er alment kjent,
klart nekter å bli aktersendt"

GKC's noen anelser bedre original klinger slik, leses på inn- og utpust i ett take.

John Grubby who was short and stout
And troubled with religious doubt,
Refused about the age of three
To sit upon the curate's knee;
(For so the eternal strife must rage
Between the spirit of the age
And Dogma, which, as is well known,
Does simply hate to be outgrown).
Grubby, the young idea that shoots,
Outgrew the ages like old boots;
While still, to all appearance, small,
Would have no Miracles at all;
And just before the age of ten
Firmly refused Free Will to men.
The altars reeled, the heavens shook,
Just as he read of in the book;
Flung from his house went forth the youth
Alone with tempests and the Truth.
Up to the distant city and dim
Where his papa had bought for him
A partnership in Chepe and Deer
Worth, say twelve hundred pounds a year.
But he was resolute. Lord Brute
Had found him useful; and Lord Loot,
With whom few other men would act,
Valued his promptitude and tact;
Never did even philanthrophy
Enrich a man more rapidly:
'Twas he that stopped the Strike in Coal,
For hungry children racked his soul;
To end their misery there and then
He filled the mines with Chinamen
Sat in that House that broke the Kings,
And voted for all sorts of things --
And rose from Under-Sec. to Sec.
With scarce a murmur or a check.
Some grumbled. Growlers who gave less
Than generous worship to success,
The little printers in Dundee,
Who got ten years for blasphemy,
(Although he let them off with seven)
Respect him rather less than heaven.
No matter. This can still be said:
Never to supernatural dread
Never to unseen deity,
Did Sir John Grubby bend the knee;
Nor was he bribed by fabled bliss
To kneel to any world but this.
The curate lives in Camden Town,
His lap still empty of renown,
And still across the waste of years
John Grubby, in the House of Peers,
Faces that curate, proud and free,
And never sits upon his knee.

Bedre måter å forklare Englands politikk de nærmeste par tiårene er umulig å finne.