Speaking of the European Union (High Taxation):
I was
cycling today from the centre to my place when it started raining. At first it
was just a drizzle, so I barely noticed or worried about it. Then it got more intensive and lots of little dapples, quite aesthetically
pleasing, appeared on my jacket. Before long the colour of my
jeans had changed too. Due to the direction from which the drops were coming, the
dark patches on my thighs were of different sizes for a while, but before too long both legs looked and felt the same (actually,
I liked that new damp and darker shade of the jeans). The rain escalated and then stabilised for long enough to ensure that when
I arrived home I looked as if someone had just taken me out of a washing machine, having earlier chosen a spin-less programme. I dismounted and stepped into a puddle - and if you were here (and how I wish you were here! ...as a slave: my place is a proper pigsty these days), you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between me and that puddle.
But, not surprisingly at all, at no point was I half as wet as Kenneth Clarke is, even on the driest of his days.
