Day in the Life of Trevor - Working Class Tory

Waiting at home for British Gas to come and fix a leaking boiler I received a Google alert about a wonderful story written in 2004 by long lost American Cousin called originally “Day in the Life of Joe Middle Class Republican”. The original was by a John Gray (from Cincinnati, Ohio July 2004). It had been updated following the Obama victory here. I’m sure my “cousin” won’t mind me reworking it to the UK in 2010.

"Trev is determined to have a good day despite it all. He's still disappointed that Labour did so well in the election, that Gordon Brown will be Prime Minister again, and Labour will have a big majority in the House of Commons. But Trev’s a strong, freedom-loving, independent kind of bloke, and he doesn't intend to let the Labour lemmings ruin his life.

Trev and some of his equally Conservative friends have talked about the beatings the Tories have taken in the last four elections. They can't agree on why it happened, but they do agree on one thing, their bedrock truth: Whatever's wrong, it's the fault of the government, the unions and the bloody Labour Party.

Trev thinks about these things soon after he wakes up in his home in the London Borough of Bexley. He showers and walks to the kitchen to get the kettle going. His shampoo bottle is properly labelled with every ingredient and the amount of its contents because some interfering liberal fought for his right to know what he was putting on his body and how much it contained.
The water he uses is clean and safe because, at one time, tree-hugging extremists fought for effectively enforced, minimum water quality standards.

While he waits for his cuppa, Trev takes his daily allergy and blood pressure medications. His medicine is safe and effective because, years ago, some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and got the government to oversee the production of pharmaceuticals. Trev pays £8.54 per month for all his prescriptions thanks to the NHS, because 50 or more years ago, lazy union members helped make sure that a Labour Government was elected which introduced a National Health Service. All the actual medical treatment he has received over the years from his local doctor and in hospital have all been free.

Trev cooks up some bacon and eggs (both of which are safe because of Government food regulations and inspections), then turns on the radio in time to hear a right-wing talk show host rail against "government entitlements." "Bloody right," thinks Trev, "only wusses think the government owes them something ... bunch of Labour slackers."

Trev gets dressed, goes outside and takes a deep breath. The air is clean because environmentalist wackos 30 years ago got all worked up about industries polluting the atmosphere.

He gets in his Jeep and drives to work in the Isle of Dogs on a government-funded, government-maintained and government-patrolled highway. His vehicle is among the safest in the world because some fuzzy-thinking, "Kumbaya"-singing Labour weenies fought for car safety standards. Trev pulls into his office building's parking lot, made affordable for him and his company by tax breaks.

Trev starts his workday. He enjoys paid holidays, a 35 hour working week, overtime and a decent pension because lazy union loafers fought and died for enforceable working standards. Thanks to the Union if Trev is injured on the job, or God forbid, loses his job, he'll get Company and state sick pay, industrial injury compensation, redundancy payments and unemployment benefit as well as help with his mortgage-- all because some Frenchified socialist didn't think people should starve or lose their homes because of a temporary problem.

At lunch, Trev and some work friends drive to a local government-inspected restaurant while listening to Talk Radio. As they wait for their food, they talk about how tired they are of picking up the tab for "lowlifes who'd rather get a government handout than work," and their friends in "government". -- Which reminds Trev that he needs to send off his student loan payment. That money sure came in handy when Trev attended his state subsidised technical college.

After work, Trev goes home, checks his e-mail and surfs his favourite conservative Web sites for awhile. The Internet is readily accessible to Trev because some British-hating liberals convinced Parliament that giant communications companies shouldn't be given quicker Web access than ordinary citizens.

Trev plans to visit his parents this evening, they live out in Bow near Vicki Park. He drives again on the subsidised roads and soon pulls into the driveway of his parents place. His parents couldn’t get a mortgage from a bank to buy their home. They were only able to get one from their local council. And wouldn't you know it -- the house didn't have inside toilets or central heating until some pinko activists got together and demanded improvements and government grants for the area.

Trev, as always, is glad to see his parents, who are now retired. They live on the State pension and a decent company pension, all because some nosy Labourites made sure they could take care of themselves so Trev wouldn't have to.

As Trev drives home from his parents' house, he listens to a radio talk show. The host is talking about a new book that claims Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal in America actually prolonged the Great Depression, even though serious historians who agree with that premise are nearly non-existent. The host goes on, reminding listeners that conservatives are great and socialists are evil. He doesn't mention that it was conservatives who fought like wildcats against every protection and benefit Trev has enjoyed that day. As he pulls into his driveway in Bexley, Trev thinks to himself, "You're bloody right! We don't need any more big-government losers taking over our lives! Why can't everyone be a self-made man like me? People should take care of themselves without government help, just like I have."