Thursday 4 July 2013

Things that make me go, Meh.

We live in a world of constant turmoil. Was it really always thus, or has it – as it appears – become much more tumultuous over the last few decades? Whether it is simply heightened perception, intensified reporting or the growth of opinion-led social media the plain fact is one can only cope with or care about so much. In order for me to get properly wound up about some subjects my brain automatically refuses to become engaged by a number of topics in which I have little or no interest. These include, in no particular order:

Babies, medicine in general and social issues a.k.a. gossip. I don’t care about deaths in the NHS, the plight of parents or LGBTBDSM matters or whatever bunch of letters they’re using now – I always have to look it up and that is an administrative overhead too far as far as I am concerned. Oh, Leveson; I really find it hard to give a fig about whatever the hell the Leveson Inquiry was all about. While it was going on, the Twittersphere was alight… I’m still none the wiser. I also find it hard to get worked up about foreign wars, both the ones we’re not involved in and the ones we shouldn’t be involved in. Norman Tebbit has it right over Egypt and Syria, for instance – we have no dog in that fight.

But I was mildly rebuked last night for not caring. Perhaps I misspoke; it’s not so much I don’t care about foreign wars, more that I don’t understand. Who, for instance is fighting who and to what purpose? Who are the goodies and who are the baddies and if we choose sides, as we always do, will they turn out to have been the baddies after all, as they always are? One thing is for sure – every time there is a war in the Middle East (always and forever) islam wins and The West gets more islamic terrorism, compounded by accusations of racism every time we try and respond.

Today, the USA celebrates Independence Day and freedom and liberty and all that, yet, just as here in Britain they are under invasion from malignant forces that would subjugate those freedoms. The difference is that, at least in moderation, you are still allowed to be patriotic in America. If UK citizens stood to attention, placed a hand on their breast and said “God Bless Britain” it is likely we would be stoned. At the very least Diane Abbott would call us xenophobic and stir up some good old lefty antipathy and excuse any forthcoming jihad as justice.

Our independence has been steadily given away and over the pond there is a feeling that the same thing is happening. Thankfully, attitudes are hardening and the British public are starting to be heard. During the New Labour years any complaints about obvious, forced immigration destroying the cohesion of settled neighbourhoods was simply denied or denounced as bigotry. In the early part of the coalition’s first term, Miliband and co have tentatively recognised they may have got it wrong. Today the Home Office tells us that WE were right all along and we have been betrayed by a political experiment which if it can’t be excused as naivety can only be seen as treasonous.

The New Labour terrorist gang should be rounded up and put on trial. Oh wait, the trial has been happening all over Britain and the verdict is already in; guilty. Now all we have to do is bring back hanging (which Blair managed to abolish for treason, incidentally in 1998)

Egypt. I don't get it. 
Is it a struggle or is it a party?

See, THAT’s the sort of thing that grips my shit – the destruction of the British way of life, the slide into obscurity and mediocrity of a once dominant nation and all at the hands of its mewling, snivelling apologies for leaders. I DO care that nobody quite knows what is deemed acceptable any more, that people can be jailed for name-calling, for misreading the mood. I care about the loss of freedoms we once took for granted. But I still don’t give a toss about babies.

1 comment:

  1. "...[I]t is unquestionably true that almost any English intellectual would feel more ashamed of standing to attention during ‘God save the King’ than of stealing from a poor box."-- George Orwell, essay, "England Your England", 1941.

    Seventy-two years ago-- in the middle of a war!