Wednesday, 15 February 2017
Paul Nuttall is a bloody fool and he has no excuse. To call people ‘scum of the earth’ – the most Merseyside of all insults (and they know a few) – for calling him out on a lie is not only stupid, it was entirely avoidable. He says he didn’t know that the claim that he had lost a ‘close personal friend’ in the Hillsborough Stadium episode appeared on his personal website; well he should have known. And if he can’t see that his Walter Mitty-like adoption of victim status is risible then he almost certainly won’t see that to even dare to use Hillsborough to virtue signal is electoral hari-kiri. Even his own tribe will hate him now.
If the prophet Nigel Farage (pbuh) represented Shire Ukip and its origins among disaffected Tories, Nuttall is the embodiment of Red Ukip; somewhat coarse, a bit of a knuckle dragger and a lookalike for Eddie Hitler, Adrian Edmondson’s character from the telly series Bottom. Not that looking like a circus reject need deter anybody from running for public office – c.f. Ed Miliband, Michael Gove, Michael Foot, Cyril Smith, Roy Hattersley, Eric Pickles... Diane Abbott – but they also need to bring a modicum of political savvy to the job. I’ve seen none from Nuttall who now risks losing in Stoke; losing to another joke candidate in the form of the odious Gareth Snell.
Meantime another idiot – Michael T Flynn – has performed the clown walk of ignominy after admitting he lied about his discussions with the Russians. Nowhere, it seems, is free of folly in the age of the idiocracy. Maybe ‘twas ever thus – plenty of historical hilarity has emerged from the archives – but with social media and the ever-present citizen journalist and amateur documentary maker out to make names for themselves it is sheer lunacy to even contemplate running unless you’ve lived in bounden chastity all your life... in which case you have little chance of being elected anyway.
My blog is called ‘When I’m King’ because I’d never in a million years put myself forward for election – I’d have to come to power by a quirk of fate and succession, or else via a very bloody coup and I’m not sure I can be arsed. In any case, there’d be no democracy, that’s for sure – have you seen the upset that’s caused this last year? Nope, if I was on the throne, fondling my orb and sceptre, you could all do just what the hell you liked. Just don’t fuck other people over; on penalty of instant judicial vaporisation. My gaff, my rules.
Paul Nuttall contemplates his political ambitions
Unfortunately, however, that happy time will have to wait. For now we are saddled with a system that requires the uninformed, uninterested masses to cast their ballot in favour of the contestant with the biggest voter appeal. Maybe it’s reality television, maybe it’s a genuine dumbing down, but we do seem to get what we deserve – few with any humility or self-awareness would put themselves up for the scrutiny that comes with the office. As J R R Tolkein observed, “the most improper job of any man [is] bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity.” Now, there's a sentiment with which I think we can all agree.