cameron's carnival of complacency

the new coalition carnival 2010 will ultimately receive a sotto voce response at the polls - the big bruv' society, of clegg 'n cameron inc, having successfully subverted the traditional caribbean street-party in london's notting hill, subduing it into silence under a damp down-pillow of diva-policing...for you see, the beat-boys are back in town, with a vicious, virtuous vengeance. under the bravado bourgeois management of mayor boris johnson, the smirking balliol bully, carnival is dead-set on becoming the biggest village-fête in europe - a charmingly confined celebration of tea, cupcakes, cucumber-sandwiches, rasta-ribboned morris-dancing-and-may-pole-prancing...or you'll get yer head kicked-in, by the fuzz-bouncers, init? nevertheless, respect must go out to all the kow-towing community-leaders, without whom this muted multi-cultural masquerade of monotonous menacing blue could never have been achieved - perhaps the privileged petty-powers of parliament feel that the notion of serfs letting-off steam for a day has become obsolete in a liberal society embarrassed by the frustrating freedom to do fuck-all-good for anyone. a seven pm sound-off, leaves the mood of mambo-jambo-without-jets to culminate in a controlled-crash at the fag-end of a festive-funway trimmed by a tactical blackthorn-hedge; banned-from-bogling, but licensed-to-booze, the wronged-throng, unreluctantly-trained to form an orderly queue, descend back into the tube-system, and submit to the gradual creeping-culture of obamafication...save for two lads, spoilt-with-liberty, whose raucous remonstrations found sport with the law, and the law winged them with a clinically executed display of spontaneous synchronized-drubbing, hospitably treating the popping-pair to a short-sharp burst of relentlessly-rehearsed rawhide-racial-rhythms coming-to-conclusion in a concise on-the-cuff crescendo when both gob-smacked guests were overwhelmed to accept the drum-rôle d'honneur - the show over, a select-audience of smattered fans wavered in shell-shock-adulation, straining their saturated-souls to find an appropriate manner in which to express their unrestrained gratitude, some generously donating bottles of iced-cold-beer to quench the ardent auraric thirst of the authorized attention artistes blowing and glowing centre-fold...whilst other have-a-go-gallants turned from confronting the compulsory surreal attraction, and sheepishly accompanied bubbling womenfolk back to their shelters of silk-sheer complacency.