Mrs Thatcher checked the teachings of Milton Friedman and transformed the whole of England into a delicate battlefield. Elvis Costello has lived a long time to cover the Maggi pit, not to turn it on again. We have seen the joy of the families of the hunger strikers in Belfast, the laughter of the Durham miner and the irony of Ken Loach. Reporters have repeated to us that, although Thatcher died, it was still quite neoliberal on the surface of the earth to ensure the collective devotion we know.

But if we think honestly, we will realize that on the altar of the economy, by sacrificing politics and democratic debate, by shouting “all corrupt!” demanding more dictatorial intimidation, by arousing the convenience of social wages, for example, or by building the law of the market as a limit in the field of poetry, tacherism is wrecking without realizing, turning our persecuted children.

Friedman and Thatcher were children of small store owners, fellows, who would never come to power without the help of the state who would reject them later: the paradox of the paradox.