Lembit Opik - Herkey to Turkey
The supreme parliamentary media tart Lembit Opik plummetted to the depths of murky populism by campaigning to have a new Concorde. He is downgraded from Herkey to Turkey.
Since its inception in the 1960’s, the Anglo-French project has been continually over-budget, and projected revenues were continually overstated. In 1972, managers painted an artificially bright future for the plane. The French and British governments sunk even more money into the project in hopes of recouping their $3.5 billion development costs. But the Concorde turned out to be a gas-guzzler. Prospective buyers dropped out. Only 20 were ever built, although the original plan was for 300. Eventually, the British and French governments were forced to write off the cost of Concorde's production and virtually give the plane to British Airways and Air France.
The July 2000 crash near Paris's Charles de Gaulle airport, which killed 113 people, was the beginning of the end. Services were withdrawn until November 2001, but confidence among passengers was never fully restored. British Airways continued to operate at a financial loss for prestige’s sake. Flights were only partially full. Even at $10,000 per ticket, the Concorde was a money loser. Recent tough economic times were the last straw.
The French and British governments continue to sink money into the Concorde even after it was clearly a money loser. It was faith by politicians in a technology they did not understand. Concorde had all the practical value of a turbo-powered pram. It was a technologiacl blind alley. It was a triumph of mindless political populism over intelligience. That's Lembit's speciality.
Hank, Lembit Opik and Roger "I am an MP get me out of here!" Williams
Daring Lembit Opik assaulted the peace of the House of Commons with his officially designated ‘offensive weapon.’
Security staff once confiscated his mouth organ because it could be used to attack and wound. The dozen people who witnessed the gruesome live performance of Lembit’s maiden record yesterday understood.
It was a protest against possible new licensing laws. Grizzled woe-begone guitarist and singer Hank MacGregor, an exhumed relic of the sixties folk scene, accompanied the pride of Estonia. “These reforms mean Hank and I could no longer set up in a pub and play some music,” Lembit warned.
Mostly incomprehensible, the low life lyric wallowed the joys of puking and other bodily functions. Lembit filled in the gaps in Hank’s croaking with a pain-wracked dissonant wailing. Less Larry Adler: more Larry the Lamb being ravaged by a sharp stick.
Roger Williams, the other half of Wales's Lim-dem team was sharply ordered to switch off his mobile phone by Lembit. His body language eloquently expressed his anguish as Lembit got stuck into his blow job. This is my kind of music. Best heard behind a solid pillar in an Amsterdam bar after all senses have been dulled. I was invited to contribute to the cacophony when I explained that my wife likened my singing voice to the sound made by an elephant cow in labour. I am their kind of singer.
Wouldn’t a new music licensing law help by stifling our musical atrocities? Perhaps be a good thing? No. Lembit hit back with his clincher argument. A group of pub drunks at closing time would be denied the joy of entertaining the neighbourhood unless they had applied for a licence 28 days earlier.
Gosh! The Land of Song could become the Land of Silence. Lembit could be disarmed I’m convinced. My vote’s for the bill.