Musing during my commute this morning about Entwistle's resignation as director general of the BBC and the stunning hypocrisy that appears to surround it. The following pastiche almost wrote itself:
You get the gist.
There is something very sad about not challenging authority and speaking the truth to power when it is needed but then gleefully joining in kicking the corpse when it is too late.
To Beeb or not to Beeb: that is the question.
Whether tis nobler in select committee to suffer
The slings and arrows of vindictive Murdoch
Or take arms against a sea of Tweeters
And by opposing end them? To quit, to sleep,
No more: and by a sleep to say we end
The roundabout of dodge and blame
That comes with this job. Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To walk, to quit
To quit, perchance to work again? There's the rub
For in that gardening leave, what chance remains
When we have shuffled off this poisoned perch
Must give us pause. There's the respect
Or lack of it as all rush to blame
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time..
You get the gist.
There is something very sad about not challenging authority and speaking the truth to power when it is needed but then gleefully joining in kicking the corpse when it is too late.
