Old curmudgeons

One of the dangers of being such an advanced age is that it's easy to become over-cynical. I can recall so many people who've been a big disappoint-ment, promising so much and delivering so little. Politicians, campaigners, tradespeople, friends and acquaintances, bosses, businesses, you name it. How often they've beguiled me and then let me down.

It's so tempting to be scathing about the whole lot of them. Don't believe anyone's promises, don't be taken in by charming smiles, don't be fooled by glossy advertising, don't be impressed by fancy jargon and slick patter. Don't trust anyone and presume everyone has a hidden agenda they're carefully concealing.

Politicians? They're all feathering their own nests. Bosses? They'll demand hard graft and pay peanuts. Tradespeople? They'll charge exorbitant fees for botched and sub-standard work. So-called friends? They'll turn out to be clingy and super-needy and offer nothing in return.

After being disillusioned once too often, it's easy to become airily dismissive of just about everyone and conveniently forget the many positive experiences I've had. It's easy to become a leery know-it-all who never has a good word for anyone.

I have to keep reminding myself that along with arseholes like Donald Trump and Boris Johnson, there are people with integrity like Jacinda Ardern and Katrin Jakobsdóttir*. Along with the ruthless bosses there are the generous, considerate ones. Along with the burdensome friends there are those I love to have around.

Cynicism is a poison that would rapidly rot my soul if I allowed it to. All too quickly I'd turn into one of those curmudgeonly old codgers who regards the whole world as a conspiracy against his very existence. Even next door's cat is a surly and incontinent beast that wrecks his garden when he's not looking.

Think again. For every scheming bastard there's someone with a heart of gold. You just have to look in the right place.

*Prime Minister of Iceland

Lying politicians

I really want to believe in politicians. I really want to believe in their promises, their beaming smiles, their grand plans. I truly want to believe that once they're elected, the country will be a better place and all our lives will be happy and complete.

But I don't. I just don't. I've seen so many politicians over so many decades, and been betrayed and let down by so many of them, that I no longer have any faith they'll do what they say.

What else can I think when the new English Wonder Boy, the new Saviour, Flash Gordon himself, who on Thursday had promised us all genuine 'democratic accountability', had on Friday - the very next day - agreed that MPs should not be subject to the freedom of information provisions.

I can't say I'm surprised. I don't kid myself any more. Politicians lie. They lie all the time, day in and day out. They lie about everything. They lie about the small things, they lie about the big things. They lie about weapons of mass destruction, cash-for-peerages, ending poverty, ending sectarianism. The list is endless.

What's more, they know they lie and it doesn't bother them. The only important thing is gaining power and keeping it, and if that means lying shamelessly, so be it. I could cite one or two honourable refuseniks like Tony Benn and John McDonnell, but of course they're the exceptions that prove the rule.

Cynical, moi? Not at all, just clear-eyed and realistic. I've seen so many false dawns and rude awakenings in my time - from the insipid socialism of Harold Wilson to the mass unemployment and industrial carnage of Margaret Thatcher - that the harsh truth stares me in the eyes.

There's only so many times you can trust those grinning faces before you realise they're all different versions of Jekyll and Hyde. There's a good reason why the popularity ratings always put politicians at rock bottom, with estate agents and car salesmen.

So much as I would like to put my faith in one of those earnest, well-scrubbed faces pleading for my vote and promising me another great leap forward - sorry, guys, don't hold your breath.