New Labour. New bliss

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You there. At the back. Wipe that scowl off your face. You are in contravention of the Statutory Instrument on Smiling. It has come to the attention of the Secretary of State that this month's target for spontaneous demonstrations of public jubilation has not been met. The quota for numbers of people skipping down the street singing "Bliss it is in this New Labour dawn to be alive" (to the tune of Ode to Joy) has not been fulfilled. Again. Margaret Beckett, whose idea of a good time is a caravanning holiday, wants to measure and improve the gross national happiness. But some of you, we suspect, don't even know where your prefrontal cortex is. Cheer up. Now.

You there. At the back. Wipe that scowl off your face. You are in contravention of the Statutory Instrument on Smiling. It has come to the attention of the Secretary of State that this month's target for spontaneous demonstrations of public jubilation has not been met. The quota for numbers of people skipping down the street singing "Bliss it is in this New Labour dawn to be alive" (to the tune of Ode to Joy) has not been fulfilled. Again. Margaret Beckett, whose idea of a good time is a caravanning holiday, wants to measure and improve the gross national happiness. But some of you, we suspect, don't even know where your prefrontal cortex is. Cheer up. Now.

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