A flurry of e-mails, twitters, facebook rumours late last night saying Margaret Thatcher was dead. Wow – hooray, at last, Trafalgar Square party next Saturday long arranged by Class War, widespread dancing in mining communities, jubilation among lefties throughout the land, get on the phone to spread the glad tidings………………but ….but comrades I didn’t actually feel like that. The absence of joy in my heart was alarming. I slept on it. Here’s my analysis. I realise I don’t hate the 85 year old Alzheimers Margaret Thatcher. I hated the Tory MP and Prime Minister who turned miners into heroin addicts, smashed unions, communities, Stonehenge…….and tried to bring in the poll tax. I wished her dead then in Class War a hundred times – Tory funerals anyone – and would have danced with delight on her grave. I cursed the misfortune of the IRA at the Grand Hotel in Brighton. But now…..it’s too late …..the death of the old Alzheimers who’s bum has to be arsewiped……….it don’t bring me joy. I’d rather Snooty Cameron and Gideon Osborne had met the grim reaper..or Blair…….or Mandelson. Isn’t that it. We are so used to defeat that we can only disinter a corpse from 20 years ago to get a victory…to dance in the streets. Don’t worry comrades I’ll feel better soon and delete this post by this evening.