Colour me Bigot!

Well who would have thought, when I woke up yesterday morning, that I would have received a semi-literate email from Twitter support to inform me that they had received “a complaint from an individual that your account is in violation of the Twitter Rules and specifically our rules regarding targeted harassment and abuse.” Golly, I thought, Old Holborn eat your heart out! ‘Targeted harassment and abuse’? I had no idea that Ed Miliband’s Twintern actually read my regular replies to his tweeted inanities. But then I remembered a minor irritant the previous day, who stalked me, called me a vile racist and proceeded, unsolicited, to berate me for a while. I guess it could have been her; she did seem a bit of a sanctimonious twat.

But I’m not one to ignore or wave away harsh criticism, so I embarked on a day-long navel contemplation and realised that yes, I do indeed harbour a certain snooty disdain for those who are not like me. I know it’s wrong but I do tend to look down on them: they don’t look like me, they don’t talk like me and they share almost nothing culturally with me. I see them all around and wonder why there are so many of them here. I listen to them speak, can’t understand a word and I instinctively sympathise with those who say they should be forced to learn English. I am also somewhat repulsed by the rate at which they breed; if they keep it up we will be swamped before long, if we aren’t already.

It is so difficult these days; you don’t know who you are allowed to criticise. When I was a child such people would have been the butt of many jokes on account of their customs and traditions. We would have poked fun at the way they lived and the way they refused to adopt the superior culture of the country in which they currently live. Their ridiculous hair! Their stupid clothes totally unsuited to these climes! And how they live! Most of them are on benefits and they tend to huddle and teem together in ghettoes where police are feared to tread and the rest of us are warned not to go. Illegal trading is rife, they ignore many social conventions and customs and some of their social and sexual practices are not those of civilised peoples.

But I will not be made to feel ashamed of my partiality. These people are without doubt inferior to me and I absolutely reserve the right to prefer - and state that I prefer - to be among people more like me. Why should they be afforded all the protections in law and be excused transgressions that, were I to imitate them, would probably end in my arrest on trumped-up charges of aggravated intolerance? Where is the tolerance for me, a middle-aged, white, working, educated, tax-paying, British born citizen?

But a change is coming. I sense a turning tide and an underswell of resistance. I see a time when attempts to silence our feelings, our dissent will be met with firm opposition. Who will lead the charge, I say? Who will be the first to challenge the timid acceptance of the super-imposed ideological prohibition of telling the truth? Let me stand up, step forward and say out loud, enough is enough. They are not like us, they are lesser humans and if they are allowed to keep increasing their numbers they will be the ruin of this country. I see rivers of blood... There, I said it, call me a bigot but I’ve just about had enough of these stupid Labour voters.