Seeing red

All this talk of the devil is rather appropriate because I've being seeing red over the past week. A discussion about prejudice in the press lead me to the National Union of Journalists Code of Conduct. I see journalists must not encourage discrimination on the basis of 'age, race, colour, creed, illegitimacy, marital status, gender or sexual orientation'.

This statement woke the mini-Lenin bit of my brain which bellowed 'What about class?' Here we are with one of the lowest levels of social mobility in the developed world and yet we don't want to mention the c word. Almost deafened by the sound of doors slamming in my head I recalled my demo days of waving red flags in Trafalgar Square and riding the Circle Line with a coffin we intended to pull apart on the threshold of some council office or other.

Now I must admit I've spent rather more of my life dreaming of the red soles of Christian Louboutins than of red flags but it seems to me UK plc could do with a touch more militancy on this issue. Perhaps us aging Trots should shake out our faded red flags and get them on the road again.

Incidentally the coffin we trashed all those years was ago was empty which seemed a bit anti-climatic to me. May be I should make another one and drop in a pair of Louboutins? There's a metaphor for the credit crunch era - a coffin filled with designer shoes. Move over Carrie Bradshaw it's Tussle on the tube touting designer revolution.