From Aristocracy to Affirmative Action = the New Tories

The New Tories are easily defined - they have gone from Aristocracy to Affirmative Action in one jump and bypassed the middle ground which is a Meritocracy.

Camerons Cronyism now revolves around imposing ethnic, women and gay candidates on the party, based solely on the fact they have a darker skin tone, a vagina or because they prefer to insert their penis into an male anus rather than a vagina, and thereby bypassing candidates who are white, working class and who should be picked on the basis of MERIT.


Here is an article revealing how Camerons Conservatives are still run by the Tory Toff's but now also are trying to re-brand by having a few 'gays, women and ethnics' on their leaflets and posters.

This is simply the Obama Strategy - whilst the real power in America stays the same ;

1) The Zionist Corporate Media

2) AIPAC that controls the US foreign policy

3) The Oil Corporations

4) The rich

5) The Military-Industrial Block

They put a black puppet on the front of the stage in order to fool the masses that 'change' had occured.

Its the same as when the Marathon chocolate bar became a Snickers.

The Tories havent changed, they now have just let a few Affirmative Action exploiting middle class scumgbags jump the queue ( and trample on those who should have been chosen on the grounds simply of merit regardless of their class, race, sexuality or religion) and promoted them for propaganda reasons.

Its the same old shit, same as before , just sold to the mug punters in a new wrapper.




The Innocent smoothies of politics are still the party of the rich

The green, matey, ethical stuff went down well for a while. But the new Tory brand can't survive many more ugly revelations

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* Jonathan Freedland
*
o Jonathan Freedland
o guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 9 March 2010 22.00 GMT
o Article history

During a recent half-term break, my family and I were trudging around Dorset. Great fun it was too, though we did run into a series of barriers. Every now and again we would come up against a gate or fence, informing us that this was the "Property of the Drax Estate". Beyond the Bond-villain name, I didn't give it much thought. Until, in a pub near Corfe Castle, I spotted a notice inviting locals to meet the prospective Conservative candidate for South Dorset: Richard Drax.

Sure enough, it's the same family. The would-be MP is indeed master of the vast Drax estate, estimated to run to some 7,000 acres. There is something exquisitely 18th century about the notion: who better to represent the constituency than the man who owns it?

That's certainly been the logic of the Drax clan, which has produced six generations of MPs before now – the first of whom went to the Commons in 1678, just around the time the Draxes were making their fortune from the slaves and sugar plantations they owned in Barbados. They like to keep power in the family, even as the family name has grown unwieldy. The likely next member for South Dorset is in fact – deep breath – Richard Grosvenor Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax.

It's mean to pick on one individual when, as the Eton-educated Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax so rightly points out, it's not one's "very privileged background" that matters: "It's what's in your soul." So perhaps we should head further west, where a brother-and-sister Tory duo are set to be launched upon the world.

In Somerset and Frome, Annunziata Rees-Mogg is the MP in waiting. She has no need to buy a constituency home: she can merely lodge with her father – the former Times editor Lord Rees-Mogg – in the 15th-century house her parents own in the village of Mells. Seeking the seat next door is brother Jacob, also an Old Etonian and now married to Helena Anne Beatrix Wentworth Fitzwilliam de Chair, daughter of Lady Tadgell who inherited a fortune estimated at £35m.

Why do I mention these future faces of David Cameron's party? Haven't we been told time and again that it is cheap, petty and counterproductive to play the toff card – that in 21st-century Britain we should be beyond such vulgar attempts to incite class war?

We have. Indeed, one of Cameron's singular achievements has been not only to detoxify the Tory brand, but to de-toff it too, so that you might notice all the Old Etonians sitting around the Tory top table – but it is bad form to mention this.

That's fine with me. It is pointless to bang on about Tories' accents, double (or quadruple) barrels and schooling if these are somehow offered as criticisms in themselves. They are relevant only as evidence of a much more important fact, one that has been assiduously concealed: that for all the window-dressing and air-brushing, the Conservative party in Britain remains what it has always been – the party of the landed and moneyed interest.

This is why the revelations about Michael Ashcroft are so damaging, because they play into a pre-existing – indeed, a centuries-old – perception that the Tories are the party of the well-off, looking out for the well-off. Of course there are process questions – what did Cameron and Hague know and when did they know it – but the heart of the matter remains simple: the Conservatives' deputy chairman is a billionaire hell-bent on influencing who writes the laws and sets the taxes of this country, but equally determined not to pay his share.

The rising fury within Tory ranks at Ashcroft is not only because he has ensured a run of bad headlines in this crucial period of overture before the full cacophony of the election campaign, but because he has undone years of painstaking effort by the Conservatives' brand managers to divert our gaze from the party's true base of interests.

Ever since Cameron was elected in 2005, he has sought to project a new image of the Tories, one far removed from the wad-waving Tory boy of the Thatcher years and the aristocratic patrician of yore. Cameron's Conservatives were supposed to be a new entity altogether: green, organic and open-necked.

And you can see why the Conservatives believed the approach would succeed – because it's already worked wonders for everyone else. All over the marketplace are companies who would once have been reviled as behemoths of capitalism, but who have somehow marketed themselves as concerned, friendly guys who are not trying to squeeze a profit out of you – oh no, they just want to be your mate.

Note the rise of ever more informal language in advertising. Ads on the Guardian website for Virgin Media, a giant communications company raking in billions, now eschew the pompous vocabulary of "terms and conditions", urging the reader instead to "Rollover for legal stuff". Plenty of multinationals ensure their ads and posters appear to be hand-written, preferably by a child. Pret a Manger may once have been part-owned by McDonald's, but it still strives to sound small and funky. "We don't sell 'factory' stuff," it promises.

The masters of the form are Innocent smoothies, a company with a turnover in excess of £100m and part-owned by Coca-Cola, that nevertheless speaks to its consumers as if it were two blokes running a market stall in Camden Town: "No added sugar. No concentrates. No funny business."

It works magnificently. Punters who would balk at handing over cash to some US-based mega-corporation feel good about forking out – even over the odds – for a vaguely green or ethical-sounding product, especially if it's presented in matey, egalitarian language.

Among the first on to this new approach to capitalism was one Steve Hilton. Humbled by the Tory defeat of 1997 – in which his Demon Eyes poster did not fare so well – the former ad man launched a new venture later that year: Good Business. It advanced plenty of admirable ideas, urging corporations to use their muscle to socially useful ends, but it also sought to persuade companies that shaking off the negative trappings of traditional capitalism – adopting instead popular causes and their lingo – was good for business. As he wrote in the Guardian in 2001, "engaging with the social issues that matter to … customers and employees is a surefire way of enlisting their loyalty".

What Hilton did for his corporate clients he has tried to do for the Conservative party: shed the visible ties to institutions people reject – the City, the landed elite, tax-dodging billionaires – and wrap yourself instead in warmer, cuddlier things: huskies, wind turbines, kids in pushchairs. Early Cameron was the "natural ingredients only" candidate. That the Tories were once 20 points ahead proved it worked.

For a while. The trouble is, it came apart when people saw that the cycling party leader had a car driving behind him to carry his bags. It came apart again when it emerged that Zac Goldsmith – a Green & Blacks organic chocolate bar in human form – had been a non-dom, unwilling to pay full tax in the country whose laws he wanted to write. And it comes apart every time you discover that, for all the new packaging, the Conservatives are the "same old Tories" after all – from the expected 50 Tory MPs in the next parliament to be drawn from the City or the financial services industry all the way to the "no entry" signs on country estates their families have owned for more than 500 years.


The Innocent smoothies of politics are still the party of the rich

The green, matey, ethical stuff went down well for a while. But the new Tory brand can't survive many more ugly revelations

* Digg it
* Buzz up
* Share on facebook (40)
* Tweet this (36)
*
Comments (126)

* Jonathan Freedland
*
o Jonathan Freedland
o guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 9 March 2010 22.00 GMT
o Article history

During a recent half-term break, my family and I were trudging around Dorset. Great fun it was too, though we did run into a series of barriers. Every now and again we would come up against a gate or fence, informing us that this was the "Property of the Drax Estate". Beyond the Bond-villain name, I didn't give it much thought. Until, in a pub near Corfe Castle, I spotted a notice inviting locals to meet the prospective Conservative candidate for South Dorset: Richard Drax.

Sure enough, it's the same family. The would-be MP is indeed master of the vast Drax estate, estimated to run to some 7,000 acres. There is something exquisitely 18th century about the notion: who better to represent the constituency than the man who owns it?

That's certainly been the logic of the Drax clan, which has produced six generations of MPs before now – the first of whom went to the Commons in 1678, just around the time the Draxes were making their fortune from the slaves and sugar plantations they owned in Barbados. They like to keep power in the family, even as the family name has grown unwieldy. The likely next member for South Dorset is in fact – deep breath – Richard Grosvenor Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax.

It's mean to pick on one individual when, as the Eton-educated Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax so rightly points out, it's not one's "very privileged background" that matters: "It's what's in your soul." So perhaps we should head further west, where a brother-and-sister Tory duo are set to be launched upon the world.

In Somerset and Frome, Annunziata Rees-Mogg is the MP in waiting. She has no need to buy a constituency home: she can merely lodge with her father – the former Times editor Lord Rees-Mogg – in the 15th-century house her parents own in the village of Mells. Seeking the seat next door is brother Jacob, also an Old Etonian and now married to Helena Anne Beatrix Wentworth Fitzwilliam de Chair, daughter of Lady Tadgell who inherited a fortune estimated at £35m.

Why do I mention these future faces of David Cameron's party? Haven't we been told time and again that it is cheap, petty and counterproductive to play the toff card – that in 21st-century Britain we should be beyond such vulgar attempts to incite class war?

We have. Indeed, one of Cameron's singular achievements has been not only to detoxify the Tory brand, but to de-toff it too, so that you might notice all the Old Etonians sitting around the Tory top table – but it is bad form to mention this.

That's fine with me. It is pointless to bang on about Tories' accents, double (or quadruple) barrels and schooling if these are somehow offered as criticisms in themselves. They are relevant only as evidence of a much more important fact, one that has been assiduously concealed: that for all the window-dressing and air-brushing, the Conservative party in Britain remains what it has always been – the party of the landed and moneyed interest.

This is why the revelations about Michael Ashcroft are so damaging, because they play into a pre-existing – indeed, a centuries-old – perception that the Tories are the party of the well-off, looking out for the well-off. Of course there are process questions – what did Cameron and Hague know and when did they know it – but the heart of the matter remains simple: the Conservatives' deputy chairman is a billionaire hell-bent on influencing who writes the laws and sets the taxes of this country, but equally determined not to pay his share.

The rising fury within Tory ranks at Ashcroft is not only because he has ensured a run of bad headlines in this crucial period of overture before the full cacophony of the election campaign, but because he has undone years of painstaking effort by the Conservatives' brand managers to divert our gaze from the party's true base of interests.

Ever since Cameron was elected in 2005, he has sought to project a new image of the Tories, one far removed from the wad-waving Tory boy of the Thatcher years and the aristocratic patrician of yore. Cameron's Conservatives were supposed to be a new entity altogether: green, organic and open-necked.

And you can see why the Conservatives believed the approach would succeed – because it's already worked wonders for everyone else. All over the marketplace are companies who would once have been reviled as behemoths of capitalism, but who have somehow marketed themselves as concerned, friendly guys who are not trying to squeeze a profit out of you – oh no, they just want to be your mate.

Note the rise of ever more informal language in advertising. Ads on the Guardian website for Virgin Media, a giant communications company raking in billions, now eschew the pompous vocabulary of "terms and conditions", urging the reader instead to "Rollover for legal stuff". Plenty of multinationals ensure their ads and posters appear to be hand-written, preferably by a child. Pret a Manger may once have been part-owned by McDonald's, but it still strives to sound small and funky. "We don't sell 'factory' stuff," it promises.

The masters of the form are Innocent smoothies, a company with a turnover in excess of £100m and part-owned by Coca-Cola, that nevertheless speaks to its consumers as if it were two blokes running a market stall in Camden Town: "No added sugar. No concentrates. No funny business."

It works magnificently. Punters who would balk at handing over cash to some US-based mega-corporation feel good about forking out – even over the odds – for a vaguely green or ethical-sounding product, especially if it's presented in matey, egalitarian language.

Among the first on to this new approach to capitalism was one Steve Hilton. Humbled by the Tory defeat of 1997 – in which his Demon Eyes poster did not fare so well – the former ad man launched a new venture later that year: Good Business. It advanced plenty of admirable ideas, urging corporations to use their muscle to socially useful ends, but it also sought to persuade companies that shaking off the negative trappings of traditional capitalism – adopting instead popular causes and their lingo – was good for business. As he wrote in the Guardian in 2001, "engaging with the social issues that matter to … customers and employees is a surefire way of enlisting their loyalty".

What Hilton did for his corporate clients he has tried to do for the Conservative party: shed the visible ties to institutions people reject – the City, the landed elite, tax-dodging billionaires – and wrap yourself instead in warmer, cuddlier things: huskies, wind turbines, kids in pushchairs. Early Cameron was the "natural ingredients only" candidate. That the Tories were once 20 points ahead proved it worked.

For a while. The trouble is, it came apart when people saw that the cycling party leader had a car driving behind him to carry his bags. It came apart again when it emerged that Zac Goldsmith – a Green & Blacks organic chocolate bar in human form – had been a non-dom, unwilling to pay full tax in the country whose laws he wanted to write. And it comes apart every time you discover that, for all the new packaging, the Conservatives are the "same old Tories" after all – from the expected 50 Tory MPs in the next parliament to be drawn from the City or the financial services industry all the way to the "no entry" signs on country estates their families have owned for more than 500 years.