Live Aid took place 31 years ago today, yet I think we'll be singing this song even as we go crashing to our doom, however that comes about.

"You talk and talk and you talk some more," Phil Collins sings, and it's true. It's the rallying cry of those in Appalachia, who swear that, if you get a flat tire in those hills and an expert happens along, they won't stoop to help you; they'll write a white paper about it.

It's the rallying cry, too, of sly, populist experts like Michael Gove, who proclaimed that "we" had had enough of experts. The working class responded to the dog whistle, and voted Yes on Brexit by a majority, however slight.

You talk and talk, and you talk some more.

When talk doesn't work, it's time for action, but how do you know what action to take if you don't talk about it first?

You could talk to the real experts -- the working class folks who get it in the neck on a daily basis. You could ask what they need, but asking what they think gets ever so much higher ratings. You could commit for the long haul -- like, until you're too sick to work -- to a non-profit organization that provides practical help, instead of running from pillar to post, from this cause to that, trying to convince everyone how compassionate you are. You could Google the organizations that act as watchdogs over the larger charities, and refuse to send a penny to those who pay their executive officers six-figure salaries.

You could stick with one person, one group, one cause, admit that we still have a "Long, Long Way To Go," and be okay with that, knowing that we all have a long, long way to go in some measure.

This is Phil Collins and Sting with Branford Marsalis at the original Live Aid. You know the song.