I’m under no pretense that Margaret Thatcher rubbed a lot of voters the wrong way (I’m trying to tone down my language; it won’t last). Equally, I’m under no pretense that a lot of the people cheering her death were barely conscious of her existence when she was Prime Minister, if born at all. But let me make this abundantly clear.
If you’re one of the people who want organise street parties to celebrate her death, putting up posters saying ‘The Witch is dead’, signing the petition to stop her having a state funeral despite the fact that she didn’t want one anyway, or are cheering her death, you’re a cunt. A vile, despicable cunt. (Told you it wouldn’t last.)
Despite what you may have thought of her close to two decades ago, she died a woman who had been suffering from dementia from a simple stroke. Given that over 150,000 people have a stroke each year, and it’s the third highest cause of death in the UK, it’s fairly likely you know someone who had a stroke, how would like it if I did that to you? Now think how her family feels, having to see this.
Let’s actually look at what she did. She helped the economy to recover, raised women’s wages to record levels and kept them there, opposed the EU, opposed prisoners getting political rights, and saw personal wealth across the nation rise. Sounds an awful like what a lot of people want in today’s world, huh?
Yes, her policies might have annoyed you at the time: the privatisation, the unemployment, the way she dealt with the Trade Unions. Her policies came with a payoff though, as GDP increased 23.3% over the eighties, getting us out of the recession. Spending on education, health, and employment also increased over 30%. Yes she made cuts, but they paid off.
Regardless, politics aside, she didn’t die the Iron Lady. She died a simple woman from a stroke, after suffering for years from dementia. If you can’t empathise with that, speaking as someone who last a distant relative to a stroke, you have no place reading this blog.
With great respect towards the dead