ON THE day when thousands of people from across Britain poured into London to demonstrate against Tory austerity, high society poured out of London to attend the last day of racing at one of the main events of the summer season for the privileged — Royal Ascot.

While coaches, cars and trains decanted protesters, Waterloo station was awash with top hats and posh frocks waiting to board the Ascot train.

Up to 250,000 people came to London and no-one can say the demonstration, organised by the People’s Assembly, wasn’t representative of the broad spectrum of people’s anger at Tory policies — policies that have seen vital budget cuts affecting so many people, with the poorest targeted more than most, and the rich not at all.

None of the cuts have affected them, their friends the foreign investors, who have bought up half of London, or the global corporations.

Every major and minor union was there, with many people calling for a general strike. Tories don’t like unions and want to curb their right to strike even more.

Give them enough room and they’ll create so many legal hoops for trade unionists to jump through, it will be all but impossible to strike.

All public services were represented on the demo. Even those which are supposed to be “protected” from the cuts are suffering from knock-on effects.

Teachers’ unions, large and small, were there. The London Fire Brigade suffered the closure of 10 fire stations last year with the inevitable redundancies — they came with their fire engine.

The National Health Service, which British people are rightly proud of, is under threat.

From surgeons and theatre staff marching in their scrubs to child psychotherapists, nurses, porters — all those who could be there were there.

Police forces across the country are facing budget cuts and redundancies. That could be why many police were far more friendly than at previous demonstrations. There was no sign of the “heavy brigade” — dog handlers getting their police dogs to leap at passing marchers or attempts at kettling.

On the other hand, Whitehall and Downing Street were in lockdown. One policeman grinned when asked: “Is he at home — or at the races?”

Well, of course David Cameron wouldn’t be there — if he’s nothing else, he’s gutless.

As they poured through Trafalgar Square into Whitehall, each group roared and cheered as they saw Big Ben ahead — the end of the march from the City (the source of financial woes) to Westminster (the source of all the other woes). The noise echoed all the way down Whitehall as wave after wave of marchers passed.

Anti-racist organisations were there. Pro-immigrant organisations were there. European solidarity groups were there, including Greeks with Syriza placards. The Green Party was out in force, as were all the socialist and communist groups.

No Conservatives though.

The disabled were there, on their crutches and in wheelchairs. The homeless were there, proudly holding up their placards with their very individual statements scrawled on bits of cardboard. Anybody and everybody came, all with their own messages, their humour, their anger and their despair.

Everyone had a story to tell, personal reasons for demonstrating. For one man it was anger over the banks that had caused the financial crisis, and the money that went to bail them out, at a cost of about £55,000 per taxpayer.

He was furious that George Osborne was proposing to sell the publicly owned part of the Royal Bank of Scotland at a huge loss and he came with his own leaflets to hand out as he marched.

One London woman said that although she had not been affected by cuts, her local school could not employ good, or indeed any, teachers because there was nowhere in London they could afford to buy or rent a home.

Another knew a public health worker forced to commute into London every day from the south coast because, again, she could not afford to live in London — it was cheaper to spend her salary on rail fares.

And from one disabled woman, I heard a story to tear the heart. She had managed to travel up from Kent to join the other disabled protesters.

When I asked if she had been affected by the cuts she started to speak, then broke down.

What could I do? I put my arms round her and told her not to go on — I had not meant to hurt her so. I wouldn’t ask her any more questions. But she said: “No, I want to tell you this!”

And this is what she told me — she was living on a knife-edge, just about surviving on her diminished welfare payments, she was terrified what Osborne’s next cuts would do.

She didn’t know if her family could offer any help for they too were stretched.

“But I have made my plans,” she said.

Here was a woman who was intelligent, articulate and considerate of other people, but who lives her life in a wheelchair.

She described how, as the last five years of cuts began to affect disabled people, she had spent her time online, talking to fellow disabled people, persuading them to not consider suicide, telling them there was always hope, always a tomorrow.

But “I cannot talk to them any more, I can’t tell them not to kill themselves, I can’t tell them to hope. I can’t do it any more. But I have made my plans…”

The government refuses to publish the figures showing how many people have died after their welfare payments were slashed or stopped.

And taxpayers expect their taxes to pay for welfare, for nurses, firefighters, “bobbies” on the beat, refuse collectors, teachers, carers — not to provide incomes for politicians who think the poor are a drag on society.

Cameron, Osborne, and all you other rich men who “lead the world” and think money is the only reason for living, may you rot in hell for what you are doing to people like her.