Tuesday, 30 September 2014
This country is fucked, isn’t it? Really, when you stop to think about it, whatever was left of The British after the war has been steadily eroded to the point of extinction, a process which is accelerating, if anything, as we stumble from one existential crisis to another. Our sovereignty sold to Brussels, our culture derided and marginalised and in the last twenty years deliberately swamped by the experiment of multiculturalism; a project so misguided that only wholly detached, politically ridiculous, illiberal, ‘progressive’ thinkers swimming in Westminster think-tanks could possibly continue to believe in it.
Trojan Horse II, the continuing saga of the Rotherham sex abuses, endemic vote rigging in Tower Hamlets and elsewhere… then many other shining examples of kow-towing to disgusting imported practices and the apparent indifference of the ruling classes to a situations they have helped create and continue to allow.
But it’s not all the fault of multicultibollockry; all by ourselves we have allowed insidious weaknesses to invade the UK body corporate – our national mission statement is riddled with the sort of inept and pointless results of blue-sky brain storms that came up with ‘consignia’ to replace a well-established and ancient brand recognised worldwide. Why do they have to fuck about with everything that once made Britain what it was but is now perverted beyond reason? We are diseased and incapable of taking the cure.
The welfare state which keeps people in relative poverty. Working age benefits which drive even the diligent into dependence on handed-back tax credits; the fiction of being rewarded, instead of being robbed less. Social policies which have, for years, offered the utterly worthless underclass sufficient incentive to carry on claiming; a refusal to condemn obviously aberrant behaviour. Slowly but steadily a once more evenly balanced society has split into the two extremes that ‘social justice’ sought to end; the increasingly small number of movers and shakers on the one end of a seesaw and everybody else on the other. If a thousand of ‘us’ were to disappear from our end the heavyweights at the other would hardly notice, but if one of ‘them’ stepped off the whole sorry mass at the shallow end would plunge still further towards destitution.
And neither Labour nor Conservative seems to understand that the people they claim to represent asked for none of it. Even ‘white Dee’ was on the Today programme saying as much. For all the worthy rhetoric of the Owen Joneses, the formerly working classes are not remotely interested in Marxist eulogising about their sturdy worth. At the arse end of the social scale, for all that they tend to vote Labour, their sentiment is wholly of the right.
Working class people reject multiculturalism, gay marriage and much of the rest of the stuff the metropolitan elite believe is good for them. Equality, yes, but not at the expense of common sense. They also don’t like the EU, which, if Cameron (the lesser of two evils) is returned, they will be bullied and threatened into remaining in. It is little wonder that not one of the party conferences has had anything to say to encourage participation in the universal suffrage which has seemingly done fuck-all to empower those who have it.
What do ordinary people really care about? They care passionately about their families and would kill – yes kill – at the drop of a hat anybody who so much as laid a finger on a hair on their heads. Pakistani rapists? They would lynch them in a heartbeat were it not for the vanishingly thin veneer of civilisation that keeps them, still, believing there may yet be a legal remedy. There won’t be; their concerns and hopes and fears will once again be ignored.
Boris Johnson’s anti-UKIP stand-up routine is just one more example of the derision and contempt in which ordinary voters' opinions are held. And so we take another step towards a lethargic anarchy that will allow our last shreds of national dignity to be disposed of as worthless. We are not 'sleepwalking' into anything - we can see it full well. Democracy? It’s just a hollow sham.
Friday, 26 September 2014
The rusty old wheels of capitalism still keep rolling round and round, despite all the best efforts of earnest socialists to flatten the tyres, grind the gears or otherwise throw spanners in the works. Seeing the increasing desperation with which the former workers’ party tries to discredit the system, which ultimately makes everything they cherish come to fruition, I am reminded of the difficulties which beset the capitalists in training up their front line troops:
In a department store in the yet-to-be politically correct nineteen-nineties a young, callow youth is being groomed to become the next under-deputy-assistant-sales-executive and he is spending a week in each of the many departments, learning his craft, plying his trade. Unlike an artisan, our man has only his wits to wield in order to turn desires into sales and thus provide the profits which keep those rusty wheels a-turning.
Here we see him at the front of house, attending the newspaper and magazine counter. A queue of punters extend back into the store between the racks of Daily Mails and Cosmopolitans, Telegraphs and Marie Claires and he deals with them swiftly, efficiently, his fingers jigging about the till like little pink maggots with St Vitus’ Dance. At the end of the day he is taken to one side by the floor manager who berates him at length for his blithe efficiency. “There’s little or no profit in papers, son,” he tells the youngster, “you have to get them to trade up. We make but five percent per paper, but we make fifty percent on the ‘cut-price’ chocolate at the counter. Think on.”
Duly admonished, the lad determines to try harder next week, when he is assigned to the gardening department. A man comes in and spends a considerable time poring over the instructions on the backs of lawn seed packets. Eventually he selects a particular brand and goes to the counter to pay. Our hero is ready and - remembering the lost opportunity of last week - decides to make amends. “A wise choice, sir, if I may say so. That is one of our best-selling varieties of lawn seed and I’m sure you will be very satisfied with the lush, green sward it will produce.” The sales manager, listening, was impressed, then dismayed when he heard the youngster say: “May I suggest you also purchase a bar of our bargain chocolate to boost your energy for all that sowing?”
“No, no, no!” says the sales manager, “you missed a golden opportunity there. Sell up, every time.” The trainee looked confused until the veteran explained. “He’s bought some grass seed. No matter what the quality you congratulate him on his wise choice, then plant your own seed of aspiration.” Colin – for that is the young man’s name – looks perplexed, so the manager explains. “He’s going to have a thick, green luxurious lawn to deal with in a few weeks’ time… Sod the chocolate; you could have sold him a lawnmower!”
A penny drops and Colin sees the light. Yes, of course, cause and effect, create an expectation and sell up. Got it. Determined to impress, he steels himself for the next week, which he is due to spend in the pharmacy.
After a few days of mundane sales of Lemsips and emery boards and toothbrushes and mundane-as-you-like, everyday, low grade, self-maintenance products he begins to despair. How can you upgrade a purchase of paracetemol? And then, opportunity knocks. A man in his mid-thirties is spending an unusual amount of time scanning the shelves. Eventually he sidles up to the counter, timing this move so that he gets to speak to Colin, the only male assistant on the counter.
“May I help you?” asks Colin. The man looks nervously around before asking “Do you have… er… you know, ‘woman’s things’ for…” he coughs, “… that time of the month?” Colin coolly dispenses the necessary items, much to the man’s relief then, in a moment of inspiration asks, “Would you like to buy a lawnmower?”
You wanna buy a lawnmower?
There is a pregnant pause. The sales manager, lurking nearby, is alarmed. The other counter staff stare in Colin’s direction. The customer looks at Colin, unsure where this bizarre suggestion is leading. Colin, undeterred, casts a glance and a cheeky wink in the sales manager’s direction and says, “Well, let’s face it, your weekend’s pretty screwed… you may as well mow the lawn!”
Thursday, 25 September 2014
In the confused world of the left all doctors are good and all business owners are bad. All state-employed teachers are selfless saints and all private tutors are instruments of class warfare. Those who live their whole, drink-addled lives in relative comfort entirely on benefits are put-upon, ‘vulnerable’ members of society, but fuck the homeowner who has to choose between upgrading his ageing car and taking his kids caravanning in Clacton. And those who donate to charity are angels from heaven above unless they are wealthy individuals, in which case they are cynically buying favour.
And it’s a life membership, too. You can be brought low from a high birth and earn your crust by picking scabs off lepers and you will never be a friend of the left, yet you can rise from the gobby gutter to be a two-Jagged lord of the realm but remain one of their own. Of course, should you attempt to pull yourself up by your boot straps and fail you will have only yourself to blame as you are admonished and shunned for daring to get above your station. Know your place, minion.
All those on the left are caring and fearless fighters for social justice, while all those on the right are hideous maladjusted monsters upon whom slow deaths by cancer are wished. There is no apparent contradiction in the collective mind of the followers of statist ideology that they can claim they strive for equality ‘for all’ yet would mete out disproportionately hideous punishment to those they deem unworthy of that same equality. All immigration is good. Only white people can hate. Diversity is always a boon; diversity is enrichment and the cultural traditions of the indigenous are not worth preserving. To the left, all cultures are equal… except ours. Free speech? Not yours, you monster; say anything they dislike and await censure.
Read a Labour/left polemic and you’ll read a tract full of bile and spite and conspiracy and fighting talk about bringing the bosses to their knees, the scabs to traitors’ gate and the rulers to a bloody end. Clearly there is only so much equality and compassion to go around. In contrast what they call ‘far right’ thinkers tend to deal not in illusory visions of sunlit uplands but in the reality of what can be achieved when individuals seek their own elevation. The most destructive of all left-leaning fictions is the fiction of equality and fairness because in their eyes the two are the same thing. The harder you graft the fairer it is to take what you produce and give it those whose only role is to receive.
Miliband talks about One Nation, about being part of a team, about working together. But teams are not about equality either; ask anybody picking sides for a kickabout… and those they leave until last. Ask any Premiership manager how they feel about equality. Teams need leaders and Miliband is not a leader. Teams are composed of those who have the ability to do their bit and accept commensurate reward, some of which is the reward of belonging. In a Labour-run Britain, the goal-scorers will be unwelcome and the only successful strategy of Team UK will be every man for himself.
Wednesday, 24 September 2014
Well I, for one, am happy about Ed’s conference speech. He very clearly laid out what all non-Labour voters have always suspected; the utter contempt in which the private sector is held and the total lack of understanding of how society, any society, functions. Unless you believe in anarchy – and that bizarre notion seems to be a perversely unique preserve of people with otherwise left wing views – nobody objects to contributing a portion of their earnings towards the public purse.
Nobody on what they insist on referring to as ‘the far right’ - which is shorthand for anybody not employed by the state, anybody getting by without claiming benefits – wants to destroy the NHS, but people who often pay for their own healthcare anyway and take care to lead generally responsible, healthier lifestyles – are increasingly fed up with their contributions pouring into the bottomless money pit the current NHS represents. The third or fourth largest employer on the PLANET? Are you insane? You would have to be if you think a relatively small population in a formerly heathy, fully developed nation needs a medical system costly enough to care for all of Asia’s teeming billions.
All that successful people ask is that their tax money, from which they get little direct benefit, is spent wisely and that they are left to spend the rest how they wish. They’ve earned it, after all, by adding value to goods and services and creating true profits in a way the state never has and never can. The state is entirely paid for by private money. And that includes the wages paid to public employees and the tax they then levy on that. If you work for the state you pay tax on the money that has already been collected in tax. You are bought and paid for by the private sector; and some of you are paid to count what you are paid, hand it out, take some of it back and recycle those amounts to create the illusion of government money. Ever heard of a non-job?
What you do may be important, you doctors and nurses and bin men and bus drivers, but never forget that all of you are paid by those some of you would drive away by your sheer avarice. Yes, that. Oh, it’s not you personally, you all believe you are doing god’s work, but that’s only because, like the party that feeds you by picking somebody else’s pockets, it serves you to believe that those who are not on the national payroll are its enemies and not its benefactors. So what if the wealth they pay tax on is inherited? So what if they happily fall into the family business; it’s none of your business, that’s for sure. The NHS, the government, welfare, defence, education, law enforcement, roads and railways are ultimately paid for not by you and your taxes but by the hated 'them' and their taxes.
It's because they care...
When the money finally does run out and the crumbling façade of the Labour experiment is peeled away there will behind it be an ancient barn door on which the altered legend will still be visible: "From each according to his vulnerability, to each according to his
Tuesday, 23 September 2014
Ah, conference season; the time of year when the party faithful gather to sing comradely songs about the good old decades of our heyday. To savour the memory of the shortening days (and three day weeks) when the dwindling turnip harvests used to signal the start of a bright new winter of wildcat strikes, shortages and power cuts, all of which could be conveniently blamed on the Tory Party’s profligacy, when last in-office, in cutting taxes and raising employment and generally removing their heavy hands from the rudder of the ship of state… the vicious, privileged, wealth-creating bastards.
Do they not understand that stout working people don’t want to own their own homes? Or that nobody who lives in a council house wants to be burdened with making decisions about lofty national issues such as nutrition, education, aspiration or life chances? Do the Conservatives not realise that every child is a ward of state and independence is a condition they do not have the capacity to even crave, let alone exercise? When will the Tories grow up and grasp the fact that private money is theft and personal choice is a false god? We will keep the red flag dying here, if it kills us!
The Labour Party needs new blood, which is why we will both curb then fight to keep and eventually increase Child Benefit until it is sufficient incentive, of itself, to increase the speed of the breeding programme. Only by unrestrained fertility can we hope to outcompete the human tidal wave of immigration unleashed by the nasty Tory party. If we hadn't spent all the money last time round just think how many more people would want to come to Britain? If even in austerity they teem, imagine how they would flock to our shores in prosperity? So, to keep Britain for the British we will oppose every Tory cutback while promising to be even tougher on spending. We think that sends a clear message, that when it comes to opportunity, Labour is everything you would expect it to be.
People – stupid, ignorant people – have asked how we will fund our promised minimum wage increase. Well, stupid ignorant, bigoted people, we will do it by the time-honoured method pioneered in our glory years; inflation. When inflation was running at 15% people were getting pay rises every week. So popular was it that other people went on strike to show solidarity. If that is not a sign of a successful economy then we don’t know what is! It is all down to turnover; increase turnover, increase output, become great again. Roar for moar!
To save the NHS we will greatly increase throughput, to which end we will shortly announce our plan for a national food programme based mostly on the health-giving properties of a potato-only diet. Soon the NHS will be overflowing and you will have us to thank for making it that way. No, save your applause, for there is more. We will apply the same indisputable logic to the housing crisis – only by tearing down whole streets of private-rented slumlord property and publicly humiliating the evil scum who own them will we create the right climate to encourage new investment in house building. As nobody will be able to afford to buy property any more, the market will be forced to build to rent and as we will cap those rents everybody will win under Labour.
They used to say you can’t trust Labour on the economy. They used to say that Labour had a poverty of aspiration. They used to say that Labour never learns. Well, they don’t say that any more… they know we’re just not listening. Give us a decade to fix the country. We promise you, after that you won't recognise Britain any more.