Wednesday, 2 December 2015
Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire Ripper, is apparently well enough to be moved back to prison after thirty years in Broadmoor. Paranoid schizophrenia, apparently. Meanwhile Ian Brady remains as insane as ever, banged up in Ashworth. What has always puzzled me, however, is why we even need to know this. They are gone from the world and unless our intent is simple revenge it would have been better for pretty much everybody if they had been released early... into the hereafter. There are no doubts over their convictions, they leave no dependents, nobody would mourn them. Why are they even still alive?
Have we learned anything new about criminality from them? Or did we always understand that the human race can create aberrant and unrepentant monsters? The only way to stop people like this from continuing with their own malevolence is to contain them. Why do they want to send Sutcliffe back to prison? Because it costs six times as much to keep him in a psychiatric unit. Guess how much it would cost to keep him in a coffin? Containment, prevention... cure.
Of course, criminal psychologists love a celebrity nutjob; the book they get out of studying them could make their professional name. But why would you want to become feted for an in-depth and close-up study of such depravity? Maybe such people share some of the same character traits as their subjects – a desire for attention, a detachment from mainstream humanity, an unhealthy preoccupation with deviation? Psychopaths are known for their ability to manipulate their prey, even to gain their trust before slaughtering them. I wonder if Jeremy Corbyn understands this when he suggests ISIS can be negotiated with.
Like the Sutcliffes, the Hindleys, the Bradys and others, the criminally insane pull the wool over the eyes of do-gooders, appeasers and those who just want to teach the world to sing. Maybe this is why people like Jeremy Corbyn believe, as few really believe, there can be a peaceful resolution to the challenges posed by the Middle East’s millennia-long mass psychosis. If islam is the murderous basket case it needs to be excluded from influence in the sane world, not consulted as to how best to meet its appetites.
We need to talk...
We deny children, the demented and those who have demonstrated they don’t have the mental capacity, the making of decisions and control over their affairs because we rationally judge that no good can come of it. And yet we’re letting our uncertainly-equipped Lower House debate the ‘treatment’ for a serial killing machine operating in plain sight. Maybe they will get a book out of it? Maybe this is he proof, if more proof were needed, that the lunatics really are running the asylum.
Tuesday, 1 December 2015
One of my favourite truisms is that if you torture a statistic long enough it will tell you whatever you want to know. Of course this is also the backbone of the Amnesty brigade who will produce enough numbers to convince the weak and mild that information extracted by torture is never reliable, no matter how many lives have been saved. By the accounts and accounting of the multiculturalists a newly arrived immigrant family with four dependent sickly children, supported by one cleaner on minimum wage and working just enough hours to retain maximum welfare payments is a net benefit to the economy. And – so ‘they’ say - attacking ISIS will be worse than useless because it is all our fault in the first place. Global warm-change-ice-ageing, apparently.
So many experts, so little agreement. Why do stockbrokers go bust? Why does the weather not do exactly what the BBC told us it would do? What happened to the general election Labour landslide? Does the toast ALWAYS land butter side down? And – seriously – what unassailable good HAS the EU been responsible for which could not have been negotiated between sovereign nations? With the exception of the butter-side-down urban myth, which could be proved wrong by simple experiment, nobody ever has enough information to make sense of most freak number-fests and in most cases gut instinct and confirmation bias are the prime movers in choosing a side.
Once upon a time our ape-like ancestors worked out that in the daytime warmth and light and food was to be had and when the sun went down food was what you might become, for the night predators. One little monkey claimed he knew how to make sure the sun rose every day and set himself up as High Priest. Not a bad little number. Yes, there were the sacrifices but you have to remember this was way before Twitter. Religions come and go, but each bears many of the hallmarks of its predecessor and each has its high priest and rules... so many rules. But, with the exception of the religion of piss, most are harmless enough these days.
The west is doing its best to avoid tackling ISIS head-on, but boy is it ready to take on the tides and the seasons. The Paris token world leaders’ Climate Change Bunfight is ready to fund a Superman to stop the world turning if needs be in its ambition to do whatever the new godhead demands. And the mass of unreliable data to input to the computation of human-created climate catastrophe is big enough to boggle the combined brains of every expert on the planet. Nobody knows the whole truth about what is going on with the weather (although it just looks like autumn to me and who really gives a toss about Vanuatu?) which is just how new religions like it. The more incomprehensible the deity, the more complete the enthrallment.
God did it..
But just like religion, trade, government and power, if you want to seek the truth, follow the money, in both directions. Ask who stands to gain from the mass’s unquestioning belief in the climate industry and who will have to pay for it? It will take every penny of your hard-earned aspiration to hold back the relentless tides and any and all dissent must be silenced. Put up AND shut up, peasants; they’re talking directly to god now.
Sunday, 29 November 2015
It’s been suspected for a long time now that the planet may have Alzheimer’s. With an attention span of – oh look, squirrel! – and a collective IQ of around half-past eight, the developed world has lived beyond its useful life and is entering the twilight years. It’s like we only keep the old boy on, letting him pretend he still has a job, because it’s easier than watching the distress it causes when he occasionally gets to glimpse cold, hard reality. In the face of all the evidence to the contrary, western governments and their media allies and their detached academics and their blinkered peaceniks insist we can all peacefully coexist and not simply endure enforced multiculturalism but thrive on the diversity. In fact the answer to the challenges posed by diversity is always more diversity... but only for the diverse.
The old empire – whatever you have been indoctrinated to believe in hindsight, by possibly well-meaning but culturally suicidal, agenda-driven minds – was, in a pre-technological world, ‘a very good thing’. Possibly the biggest leap forward in every sense since the Romans (Are they evil now? It’s hard to keep track.) yet all we hear is “What did the British ever do for us?” (Fill in your own long list.) The end is nigh, the doom-mongers used to say, in expectation of a godly apocalypse. They may be right, but the fall of civilisation will come not from god, not even from believers in gods, but from civilisation itself.
Rough men, brave men, went to war and died to keep their countries free from brutal tyrannies but the real tyrants now are those who heed not what was done for them and have no regard for sober history. University students – young people who should be opening their mind to all possibilities – are shutting down debate on campus after campus. A recent, orchestrated walk out from an appearance by contrarian Katie Hopkins: showed absolutely no concern for those who had turned up to hear her out. The no-platforming of anybody who holds views which don’t accord with the new orthodoxy goes way beyond simply refusing to listen; consider the hounding out of office and reputation of Tim Hunt by a concerted and confected charge of sexism and ask whether this is the action of rational, thinking, enlightened humans.
Then there is the insistence by the current – this month’s - Shadow Environment Secretary that referring to practitioners of an almost entirely male profession by the term ‘fishermen’ is lazy and unthinking sexism. I wonder how Harriet Harman feels about that? And examine the almost incredible revelation that Labour MEPs support the repatriation of jihadis to Britain; for every one they rehabilitate, dozens more will be radicalised to take their place. I say ‘almost incredible’ but set against the daily outpouring of utter fuckwittery that typifies the current state of the left in turmoil it passes for normal.
World Leaders discuss Climate Change in Paris
Friday, 27 November 2015
Watching the not-so-slow death of Labour by a thousand cuts[typo] is a spectacle in turns amusing, horrifying, incredible and at times as predictable as a socialist calling everybody they disagree with ‘Tory scum’. Will they let Corbyn hang on over Christmas? Certainly the consensus seems to be that he’ll be gone after next May’s local elections, by which time Labour will be little more than a gibbering basket case, hoping to fail its Atos work capability assessment and stay on the sick forever. But it wasn’t always this way.
Once, Labour was the thrusting, purposeful party of the working classes. Hardy men who built ships, mined coal or withstood the blast of furnaces, pouring steel to improve the world beyond measure. A mixture of work ethic and pride in nationhood, such men would look disdainfully down at the soft-bellied career politicians who now seek to continue the legacy long after the workers’ battles have been won. Of course, contrary to the party mantras of oppression and penury, many of the old guard have risen far above their origins and now inhabit the leafier suburbs in their retirement.
One such working lad made good was out in the garden a few weeks ago and he noticed one of his neighbours – a typical Tory, made rich on the labour of others – lounging in his hammock in the dappled shade of a late summer’s day. He was sipping a cool beer and listening to the radio as he perused a catalogue of accessories for his BMW, but all the while his wife was working. One minute she was pruning bushes, then doing the weeding, then sweeping the patio before hanging out the washing
A short while later she began struggling with a rusty manual lawnmower to maintain the sward in pristine condition and the hammock-bound ingrate just carried on listening and drinking, not even asking whether his wife wanted a break, or some assistance. The horny-handed son of toil was incensed by this callous disregard for a worker’s plight and although he wished to respect another’s need for privacy, felt he nevertheless had to intervene. When the neighbour’s wife had gone back indoors he wandered over to the fence and stepped up on a bench to berate the idle one.
Tory boy gazed back, steadily before hitching himself up on his elbow, taking another sip and replying, "I am, old boy, I am... That's why she's mowing the lawn.”
Thursday, 26 November 2015
Another day, another nail in the coffin lid of ‘The New Politics’ promised by Jeremy Corbyn and his merry band of misled men. Surely somebody must have known about John McDonnell’s planned waving of Mao Zedong’s Little Red Booky Wook over the despatch box? One story is that it was a committee decision to approve the act but surely one of the first rules of political opposition is - Don't let your own cunning stunt become the story. “But it was just a joke!” exclaimed the party worthies, cringing as they did so. The ruination of the Labour Party continues apace.
But, here’s the real joke; so committed are the faithful to the untried ideals of JC the new messiah that they fall straight into every single trap the Tories set for them. It must be like catching passenger pigeons in the Old Wild West... or dynamiting fish in a very small barrel. I keep expecting the stage hypnotist to count to three, snap his fingers and bring them, blinking, back into the real world to find the audience pointing and laughing. But no, the more we laugh, the more the big red bear dances.
For a party trying to regain credibility after the Edstone fiasco you would think that Labour would be doing their utmost to appear, if not electable, at least sane. During the short-lived Miliband era they opposed every austerity measure, insisting that the economy could be rescued while still borrowing more than could ever be paid back. The voters showed them what they thought of that. Under the last Labour government the creeping shackles of cultural thought control made criminals out of people for expressing opinions; the meekly offended trying to get their inheritance early, perhaps?
In a reversal of democratic principles, minorities progressively attained greater rights than the majority. Who knows what the voters thought of that? And of course it was Labour who ushered in the miserable failures of mass immigration and multiculturalism; and we know exactly what most voters really think of that. Yet still the bubble insulates politicians from the consequences of their thoughts and deeds. At least Ed’s people kept up the pretence that they thought they were in with a chance, but under Corbyn even his own cabinet cringe every time he opens his mouth and quickly brief to disown him.
But which is which?
At the height of China’s Cultural Revolution the notorious Gang of Four were responsible for some of the most notorious acts of the revolutionary party. It eventually led to their downfall but they are still remembered to this day. Will Corbyn’s political revolutionaries be likewise recalled in decades to come? As their Greatest Tits catalogue continues to build it is inevitable their bizarre performances will be fondly discussed in the future. We have a tradition of looking after the underdog so, bringing laughter to millions, Corbyn’s Crazy Gang will forever hold a special place in the nation’s heart.