I dream of a time when the feudal rhapsody of sovereigns, their kin (cf ‘bloodline’), and their property deals (cf ‘wedding’), will cease to be daily feature of British public life. I yearn for the day when servile, sentimental crawling to their majesties will be interred in a funereal parade of union jack draped boxes. But to hanker for a wholly rationalised capitalist state, to put right what Britain’s bourgeois revolution failed to achieve, is to covet a mirage…
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