The Observer gives us a savage critique of the looming disaster facing civilisation as we know it thanks to the massacres being proposed for the UK’s public sector by the new coalition government.

More! It’s written by a senior civil servant. Anonymously.

How senior, pray? Can’t be that senior or s/he would have been sent on diversity training ages ago for committing vile crimes against the English langauge

In any case, it’s not so much a savage critque.

More a mess of over-adjectivised cold porridge, great gobbets of which are sploshed down on the page:

Speaking last week to junior civil servants, I found it impossible to muster the usual energy and excitement. I normally ignite the groups with a vision of our higher purpose and entrance them with the dream of a long bright career.

Sadly my dream is dead. I don’t know what we are doing or why we are doing it. I can’t escape the feeling that all our dynamism and creativity – so long targeted at the problems in our society – has been turned inward.

Hmm. Were you a happy dynamic dreamer when Labour were in charge? Yes!

Vast systems have been built to freeze spending and implement cuts. They are sucking everyone in. This is a turning point in our island history.

Aaargh. It’s … a vortex!

The Lib Dem ministers are still not strong enough to make an impact. They have fought skirmishes and successfully tested the Tory defences, but they are not ready for a full-on offensive. Having swallowed the budget like rotten food, they have been laid low by a debilitating virus.

Chemical weapons?

The media is (sic) failing too… Before, the battle lines were drawn and every figure had their currency.

Now, it’s all confused – like a giant chessboard where the black and white armies have fused and pieces are on the wrong squares. Two kings is an exciting prospect, but how can you work with four knights and too many pawns who all need somewhere to go?

Political pawnograpghy.

The coalition is like an old house. Summer masks all manner of problems. The hot weather makes many things more pleasant.

But when autumn arrives, the wind and rain will ruthlessly expose the gaps and cracks.

Where simile meets metaphor.

You might ask why I am writing this diary.

At last. A sensible sentence. The answer?

The civil service is being eroded by a pungent acid that will soon dissolve the foundations of our politics. The solid oak beams of state are being cut to pieces and the roof will come crashing down.

Clunk.

Silence.