Tuesday, 9 August 2016
Gather round, you poor, you feeble, you beggars, you workers and let me tell you a story. One day it will be different. One day you will never have to fear growing old or huddle together against the deadly cold. For you are the noblest of mankind and one day the world will be yours. The barons in their strongholds will be deposed and their great wealth will become yours so each of you can live like nobles and nobody will rule over you. But you must have patience.
The fairy tale of the Labour Party began like this and slowly, nobly even, ordinary men and women began to organise in workplaces, in social clubs and made their voices heard. They began to stand up against poor working conditions and exploitation and collectively they realised they had power and that their will could put people into Parliament. From there the process should have been simple. The workers’ revolution would be no bloody coup, but a very British, civilised and gradual overthrow of dominance by the elites.
It never works out as planned though, does it? The ground troops of Labour socialism began mobilising antagonistically and during the sixties and seventies industrial action became the British Disease. Business and brains moved away and took with it much of the wealth that might fancifully have been redistributed. Union subscriptions were eaten up by paying the wages of officials and engaging lawyers to help them retain their hold on the party that had told them it would deliver. Power was slipping away because the masses would not behave as they were told. Labour lost its grip and disappeared into the wilderness.
During the eighties and into the nineties, however, the enterprising poor became businessmen. Tired of waiting for the revolution they reverted to human normality and struck out for themselves. The weak, of course, were left behind again, but now consigned to lives of dependency on the state. No longer of any use to the Labour dream, they were fed bread and circuses by governments who imported a new stock of, they hoped, less troublesome workers from former Eastern Bloc countries newly enrolled into the European Union and told the British they were racist to complain.
Removable, compliant workers, grafting away for a pittance? Isn’t this what Labour fought against all those years before? Meet the new elites; no longer wealthy landowners and business moguls but people brought up on the socialist myth and imagining that all they did, from their palace in Westminster, was for the furtherance of the masses. If only the masses would pipe down and be content. If only they had never been educated in the first place; if only the dumbing down could have been hastened. What we need is people who will never question what they are told.
Enter islam. Flood Britain, flood Europe with millions of people who unquestioningly adhere to every tenet of an obvious con. Almost no muslim has ever ever read the koran; it can say whatever the imams want it to say and look at them lap it up. Maybe this was the thinking behind the invasion. Import an already thoroughly brainwashed population and maybe they will, finally, do as they are told. How’s that working out for you? The attacks are reported daily across Europe and still nothing truly effective is done.
Still think they all live happily ever after?
The last of the gullible seem to consist of the politicians desperate to cling onto power and bizarrely, the luvvies of the showbiz world. Curiously, it is now only the elites and the stupid who still seem to have some sort of faith in multiculturalism and the socialist dream. Make lots of money from the unthinking masses by playing pretend and dressing up, then somehow believe you know what is best for them? The only way I can account for it is that they are the only ones left who still believe the fairy tale.