What is it that makes progressive leftist intellectuals really angry today? Is it Eton and Harrow, the Ritz Hotel, the Stock Exchange, Blenheim and Chatsworth, White’s Club or Boodle’s, or any other citadel of upper-class privilege? No, it is not. When they write about such places it is always with some sneaking sympathy, if not open indulgence. Indeed, it is difficult to recall a healthy diatribe against these targets for years and years.
What I can remember, however, is a stream of progressive leftist vituperation addressed to, of all places, Blackpool. Every time the party conferences are held at Blackpool some journalistic champion of the progressive cause will take time off to write an abusive article about Blackpool. The sight of the idle rich at play no longer provokes the progressive’s indignation. They will wax lyrical about the joys of St. Tropez and Positano, at the drop of a free ticket, or even without one. But let them get so much as a glimpse of the working class enjoying themselves and they blow their top.
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