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Comrade Karlien, your reference to air-brush techniques reminds me of John Latham's enthusiasm for them on the grounds that all those atomised paint streams hitting the canvas almost simultaneously suggested moves towards a quantum theory of the self. Donna Summer was obviously hip to such inflections; that was indeed that 'love' that she felt "coming on". New Labour are most assuredly a party of the airy burnish, although they err towards the quantocks elf. You're quite accurate in describing the curl on the lip, matching the gloss on the wave to a banishment of dandruff on the doges collar. What you fail to mention, although I take it that the implication lies strictly dormant, is any registration of the rehybridisation of the political rose. A rose is patently not simply a rose, but implies values of rosyness, thus bringing the rouge up and beyond the mere surface of the cheeks of the new puff-mongers. The hobgoblin of Globanalisation, as you so deftly term it, thus refocusses attention onto similarities between monetary bonding, speaking from the point of view of the end of the day, the instruments of communication and defecation. In short - the mouth and the arse (the anal rose of new labour is thus exposed as hiding in the shirt-tails of family life, whilst keeping its mouth firmly shut). What had been a clearly hierarchical passage of metaphors, a trickle down poetics of the will, has become slurried to a sufficient extent that it has become difficult to ascertain in which direction, at any given time, the money is flowing as it were. Only when the dog's Canary sings will we have any idea as to whether it's over or not over until it's not over. For, like a dock leaf to the mausoleum of a white nettle head deposited onto the unwashed bathroom mirror in considerable haste, those, and I count myself among them, who populate regulated underpasses, hunting scraps from masticating tables, will have our wounds soothed downwind of regress at the first signs of oncoming noxious gas. We too have noted the similarity between the Canary and the Needle. We too bleed. And when we are pricked we cry out - New Labour! love and love cris %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%