Mike Dickin was a genuine spokesman for a whole generation - his true constituency were those curmudgeonly 40, 50, & 60 somethings who did rather nicely, thanking you, out of the years of Thatcher. They tend to live in Kent, Essex, or the Home Counties, they bought their houses at give away prices, but now bitterly resent the Labour Government, for spoiling their party, having the gall to get elected in 1997, and detest it for all it's perceived "failings". No doubt they'll be leaving the country in droves, if Labour ever get in again. For that I am deeply grateful.
Mike was that lone voice preaching in the wilderness - his adoring fans were the white van men, the truckers, the taxi men, the right wingers, the Daily Mail readers, the Tories, UKIP, and all points extreme right. Theirs is a world of complacency, self-satisfaction, and stuff the lot of you. They bitterly resent paying taxes, paying speed camera fines - because of their ignorant over-speeding, and just love to cock a snoot at laws which don't suit, such as fox-hunting.
Mike specialised in reserving his opprobrium for the dispossessed, the immigrants, the gypsies, the single mothers, and berated them in true right-wing style for all their failings, saying their problems were solely due to their fickleness, wantonness, and sloth. Mike never had answers to their real pressings problems, only making snide, sneering comments, and chuckling contentedly as he played to the talk sport right-wing gallery.
Fare thee well Mike Dickin, you have either gone to meet your maker, or have joined the eternal indifference of oblivion. Somehow it's the latter, as you didn't have a spiritual bone in your body.
Good-byeee Mikey - it really wasn't nice knowing you.