Whether we like[d] it or not, the single most important British political event of my generation’s life (to date) occurred 30 years ago today.

Can’t think what it was?  Let me jog your memory:

Where there is discord, may we bring harmony. Where there is error, may we bring truth. Where there is doubt, may we bring faith. And where there is despair, may we bring hope.

Seriously, those four lines never stop making me laugh.  Or vomit.

As a seven-year-old I wasn’t too politically aware: I remember going with my mother when she voted (NOT for That Bloody Woman, I hasten to add) and I remember it being a big deal that we had a woman Prime Minister.

Nice legs, shame about the boat race

But fuck it: I’ve not got a good word to say about the woman, so there’s no point pretending just because of an anniversary.

She won in 1979 and she did what she wanted.  The “reforms” she heralded were a social fucking catastrophe.  She would have been out on her arse at the first time of asking if she hadn’t engineered a war with Argentina.  What she went on to do after 1983 made this a less nice place to live and ultimately resulted in the Clusterfuck.  History isn’t going to be half as kind to her as she thinks it is.

Still, we sort of got the last laugh: she’s gone down with dementia, been widowed, seen her son convicted for trying – and characteristically failing – to orchestrate an African coup and her daughter outed as a “racist” with a bad attitude, and is hopefully condemned to another couple of decades of sitting in her own piss before we all get to enjoy a fucking massive nationwide street party when she finally gives up the ghost.

You may have brought despair, Margaret.  But we’re still clinging to that last bit of hope.