Sunday, 24 March 2019
On the day God punished the Africans – thousands were wiped out in Gambia – Abdul Vazçèq was too busy tending to his wilted vegetable plot to notice. He was concerned that the dispute with his neighbour may have brought divine retribution to his door so he was busy. He was not watering the produce, for that was God’s work, but praying devoutly for his intervention from the heavens. But he had to go into town to join the compulsory daily mass demonstration at the behest of the supreme prophet; the holy father of the state religion and God’s representative on Earth.
Before the coming of the Great Silence we were assailed by the clamour of the devil, in the form of newspapers, television and the internet. It was a continuous babble of misinformation and contradictory truths. Nobody knew what to believe and the conflicts between those who voted for one outcome and those for another had become more and more frequent; the normal functions of society were disrupted on a near daily basis as London’s streets were clogged with protesters. But now it was clear that there can be only one truth and at last we have found it.
When they cut down the tree of knowledge (the world-wide-web-of-lies) life was supposed to get better for the devout and given that Vazçèq’s life was now a power-less, jobless, hungry existence he could only assume that his own lack of unthinking faith was to blame. He couldn’t exactly blame god because, well, that was illegal and god was omnipotent. If it wasn’t in the holy book it wasn’t true and he knew on which side his bread was buttered. Or at least he would if he had any butter. Or bread for that matter. It had been a while now.
As he crossed the town square, looking up at the cloudless sky and worrying about his vegetables he was only vaguely aware of the screens broadcasting god’s retribution on the Africans. Floods; how ironic. In a corner of the former market place – markets were now banned as unholy – a small gathering was busy stoning somebody who had expressed ambivalence for divine government in earshot of the religious police. At least there was now law and order. And everybody had the same opinion, if they wished to stay alive.
But where was the rain? And what must he do to appease the almighty; if only there was a sign. A hundred loudspeakers crackled into life and a booming, voice of authority commanded that all face the screens for their act of devotion. An old still image appeared and the crowd began to bay. The last remaining means of generating electricity now that god’s will was being done was reserved for the generators of state and church. The crowd repeated the mantra and the hated figure – now long dead – became for two minutes the centre of their universal excoriation.
I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Epsilon and the Upsilon...
A siren signalled the end and the crowd began to recover from their trance-like state of angry arousal. The face of Nigel Farage faded from the screen, to be replaced by the calming image of the supreme leader. People began to return to their normal business of finding enough to eat. But none would forget the experience and tomorrow they would worship again, their beliefs reinforced. A small cloud appeared in the sky and as Vazçèq headed for home he saw that his faith was strong; he was on the side of the righteous.
Friday, 22 March 2019
Another day – Day 1002 – in the Brexit psychodrama and more turmoil. There are deep suspicions that the latest move – ExtensionGate – is intended to precipitate a destabilised Parliament into forcing a general election, or a form of coup. Deep conspiracy indeed, yet given the open hostility towards any notion of independence, not so far-fetched as to be disregarded altogether. In the background you can almost hear the collective groan of Leavers as they see what is a clear ploy to deny their celebration.
Then there’s the petition to revoke Article 50. Remainers were thumping the air yesterday as it rapidly passed the two million signatures mark, while some prominent leavers insisted it was being infiltrated by foreign powers, Russian bots or the simplicity of casting multiple votes by the use of different email addresses. But of course there is a far simpler explanation and it is possibly at the heart of why Brexit has been the ugly and embarrassing spectacle it has.
Remainers are happy in the right sort of company. Among them are the kind of people who rejoice in the type of ‘diversity’ that brings misery to the communities on which it is thrust. I can’t be only one to have noticed that pretty much every day now the BBC and others broadcast the islamic call to prayer as a preface to any news stories about any islamic issue. We are becoming habituated to hearing ‘Allah’s snack bar’ no longer as prelude to slaughter but as a plea for peace and understanding. New Zealand is suddenly looking like Iran, forty years ago this year, during the Ayatollah’s Terror.
The media, politics, the organs of state are flush with the kind of bien pensant goodies who love a bit of politically acceptable acquiescence to the demands of cultures different from our own. It makes them good people and they love being part of the herd,with all the other good people. No wonder they were so shocked in June 2016. In their world nobody would even dream of leaving an even bigger club of even lovelier people with only kindness in their heart. Why, only deviants could be averse to sharing the joy.
So, when it comes to protesting ‘austerity’, NHS funding, climate change and Brexit, there is a ready network of the very best of people who will come together and the call to gather will spread far and wide across social and mainstream media, whose lever-pullers are a part of the same group. Stick up an opinion poll in the Guardian, the [not] Independent, Buzzfeed, Facebook, Twitter et al and of course it returns the ‘right’ result. The result they knew it would – you gorgeous, wonderful, lovely, kind, caring saints.
But where are the voices of dissent? They have been largely silenced; from Gordon Brown’s ‘bigoted woman’ to those who agree with everything Nigel Farage says, the message from the media, from the government and more recently from the police and judiciary, is that your opinion is verboten, practically a crime. As a result you don’t possess an acceptable group identity, which means when you look around for support you see bowed heads, mumbling quietly, mostly to themselves. No wonder the referendum was such a shock to the system.
The will to leave is there. The numbers are not only still there, but I suspect, growing. Many who wanted to leave probably didn’t vote because the media told them that remain would win. If we did have a second (actually third) referendum there is a chance the leave majority would increase; it’s a risk remainers really don’t want to take. But Parliament hasn’t had the balls to do what their electors want them to do, so the EU has stepped in to tell them how to proceed with remaining – get rid of May and put up a puppet.
But it won’t solve any problems. Brussels unveiled has a far uglier face than its worshippers imagined and Brexit averted would be a victory for the globalists, so the opposition will not simply fade. The Champagne – or, rather, the English sparkling wine – may stay on ice for another few weeks, months... or even years, but the fight for Brexit will continue.
Wednesday, 20 March 2019
You used to know where you stood, often quite literally. Entering a busy fish and chip shop, where people waited for various nowadays incomprehensible orders, there was a certain Englishness in the calm order in which matters were dealt with; first come, first served, elders to the front of the queue. Ah the queue, for which we were once famous throughout the world, the very epitome of fairness and egalitarianism.
We didn’t need an identity in the modern sense, for we all had one already and one with far stronger bonds than the myriad fractured hierarchies of grievance to be found today in the relative pain rankings of gender, sexuality, race, learning needs and disability. It was once considered impolite to talk about politics or religion but nowadays we have little else – and some religions are legally off-limits. So all we have left is politics... and the weather, although even the weather is now fraught with difficulty depending on how far down the climate change rabbit hole you have ventured.
But the biggest division today is, of course, Brexit. And it is a division which shows so much about how far we have travelled since the chip shop days. If you are older and still have a sense of the common bond of Englishness (and I do mean English as opposed to British; British is no longer an easy and reassuring identifier) you will likely have voted to try and regain that enviable status. If you are young and have been brought up to believe that the source of all that is good is somewhere else, you are probably a remainer.
If you are an older Brexiteer you are probably a little confused and certainly dismayed at the disdain the young show for a thousand years of modern history. If you are young you are probably furious at the nasty, crusty old leavers who have, in the current parlance, ‘stolen your future’. If you are young, of course, you also know nothing that others haven’t told you... you don’t even realise this fully because, as young people, you still need to be protected from your illogical and self-destructive urges.
We used to do that, we ‘old people’. Nobody voted to make your lives poorer, we voted to make all our lives more meaningful. You may not see a problem in globalism, blasphemy laws, unlimited, unchecked migration, Ponzi welfare systems and the culture of self above all else, but we do. You will still be able to spread your wings, travel the world, see wonders and better yourselves. Having, maybe, to put the tiniest bit more effort into it might be the making of you. But in or out, what you become has always been in your hands; nobody has taken that from you.
And when you’ve made something worthy of yourself, when you are yourself sitting back and taking stock of your life, we hope that one day you will appreciate: “This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,--This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.”
No need to thank us.
Wednesday, 13 March 2019
Interesting times, indeed. If anybody was in any doubt about whether electing Donald Trump, or voting for Brexit was the right choice Parliament appears to be bending over backwards to provide example after example of how it exists to serve itself and defy the unfortunate chance of protocol which has saddled it with an electorate to bamboozle. In a proper system of government, they seem to indicate, we would have no need to appease the untermenschen who have somehow been given airs and graces beyond their entitlement. You can imagine the conversations behind closed doors:
“Look here, little people, every five years we let you pretend to have a say and then we let you get back to grubbing about for scraps, or whatever frightful collection of activities passes for a meaningful existence in your world. Honestly, some of you have neither title nor political dynasty to speak of yet you think you know best?
“Sometimes we blame ourselves, you know, if more of you were living on the breadline you’d have better things to worry about than whether or not we had national identity, dignity and pride. What is the point of pride, for heaven’s sake. I mean look what that oik Churchill did with it. He managed to rouse a rabble of common rough people to take up arms and thwart our dear friends’ plans for European Unity.
“Well, we’re not allowing that to happen again. Tony Blair did his bit to swamp the country with so much islamic monocultural ‘diversity’ we’d rather hoped you would have been outbred by now. But no; that’s the problem with low intellect – you have a stubbornness which defies logic. Our logic. We in the EU – of course we are fully signed up to perpetual union, you idiots - were busy trying to plan a secret army to cope with any uprisings and what do you bloody well do? You go and commit Brexit, that’s what. Well, it is sodding well not going to happen on our watch and if necessary we will take the entire country down with us.
“As opposed to what Anna Soubry said about her overblown 'Nazi' incident, where we are now is not just a few horrible people being nasty to MPs, it is millions of you. You can’t imagine quite how horrible it is, seeing your ugly, lower caste, gurning faces massing at the gates of Westminster Palace, imagining that your vote is as valid as ours...”
How Westminster see voters...
It still beggars belief that MPs don’t seem to fully understand the levels of frustration, anger and downright mistrust that exist in the population at large. Voiceless, powerless and now that we know how much we are despised, utterly disgusted at the system that has brought us here. Donald Trump likes to talk about draining the swamp in Washington; well Westminster is no different. A referendum didn’t help one bit; we’re going to need a bigger plunger.
Monday, 11 March 2019
A Sky poll has revealed 98% of people who voted to remain in the EU are stockpiling in preparation for a no-deal departure. In contrast, the morons who voted to leave are sleepwalking blindly to the cliff edge abyss of a chaotic, catastrophic, cataclysmic, no-meal Brexit, says the impartial establishment.
In Cornwall, Hysteria Panic-Attack and her family have been buying extra food and supplies since last summer to make sure she is prepared. She tells Sky News why she is doing it.
“A no-deal Brexit will result in a complete end of access to a whole range of products and services, some, maybe for a short time, but most will be gone forever. As a parent, I make no apology for protecting my children from the stupidity of the bovine leave-voting saboteurs who voted to abandon our precious nirvana on Earth.
When we realised that Brexit was to happen we were fucking outraged. When we realised that a no-deal scenario was not only possible but likely we knew we were seeing the beginning of World War Three. The first thing we did was some light research and everywhere we looked all we could see was the rise of the far right. After seeing just the tip of the iceberg, and only in layman's terms, we decided that Brexit was, literally, Hitler.
The realisation that the neo-Nazis of the hard right were mobilising became clearer in the autumn of 2017. At the time my husband and I had already been discussing the ramifications of Brexit. We knew that we needed to fight back and organise a resistance, to which end we decided make some small preparations as a family. We moved house last summer, away from the city to a small gated compound where we could stockpile food and ammunition against the deprivations to come.
Realising that almost everything we regarded as essentials would become luxury goods after Brexit we started hoarding common household medicines, toiletries (because so many of us have sensitive skin and require special types of shampoo and shower gel) cigarettes and alcohol to use as currency in the coming black market. French wine, for one, will be worth its weight in gold come the summer. And Prosecco; in fact we have dug and stocked a 100 cubic metre cellar from floor to ceiling with the precious stuff.
We installed solar panels, a methane digester and reverse osmosis water purifier because we know that after Brexit there will be no more electricity or clean water. And we decided to become completely self-sufficient, like Tom and Barbara in The Good Life, which is especially auspicious because our next-door neighbours are called Jeremy and Margaret, which is close enough. We have also begun digging the foundations of our machine gun emplacement.
Because, as time went on and no-deal Brexit became more and more of a possibility and we learnt more and more about the real life implications, we realised that we would need to defend our compound against marauding hordes of filthy Brexiteers who, we knew, would turn into ravenous zombies instantly on the 30th March 2019. We have dug several ditches lined with sharpened and poisoned spikes and laid trip wires everywhere. Come Brexit Day nobody will be able to enter or leave our community of brave freedom fighters without risking death or horrible injury.
We will be ready when they come...
People routinely spend money on home insurance they hope never to have to use, but they have it for peace of mind, to protect themselves and their families just in case. Our preparations for a no-deal Brexit are no different. We have taught our children how to dead-rope a zombie, catch and skin and butcher wild animals for clothes and food and to shun as a deadly enemy anybody they suspect may have the slightest sympathy with leavers. It is what any sane, rational survivor would do."
Wednesday, 6 March 2019
Once again the empty vessels ring out as they revisit knife crime, police numbers and demonstrate their inability –deliberate or otherwise – to differentiate between causation and correlation. For instance, it is a demonstrable fact that everybody who ever died of cancer was once born thus there is a 100% correlation between getting cancer and being born; the clear fallacy which follows is, of course that cancer is caused by being born, a proposition you can often refute by trying to apply the causation in reverse.
If the sun rises every day and every day there are far more accidents as people drive to work than there are accidents in the dead of night, does this mean that daylight is the chief cause of road traffic accidents? This echoes the old saw that if 20% of road accident fatalities are caused by drunken drivers, the other 80% must be the fault of the sober, so let’s all get pissed and save lives. This isn’t to say that the reduction in police numbers is not somehow linked to knife crime but, as always, a simplistic view makes for far better headlines than doing some solid research.
Everywhere you look people who should (and often do) know better are causing mischief by misusing statistics to tell a story often only peripherally related to those statistics. And depending on from whose mouth the accusations fly the indignation of various groups are triggered. Thus, when Hate-not-Hope[sic] target and intimidate Tommy Robinson’s wife and kids the left, from their lofty moral steeds, insist that all’s fair, yet when it happens to one of their own – Mike Stuchbery, Rachael Cousins – it is somehow due to the rise of the far right.
Oh yes, we’re back to all that. Latest in the attempts to smear ordinary, everyday, majority concerns as extremist is Sayeeda (Baroness, no less) Warsi who states, as evidence of deep embedded islamophobia, that Conservatives have retweeted messages in support of Tommy (not his real...) Robinson. Now I’m not one to start a conspiracy theory, but how convenient would it be for them if attention were to be distracted away from Labour’s anti-Semitism row? Seriously, though, are we to believe that our major political divide is now between islam and judaism? So much for the christian soldiers.
But back to islamophobia. Phobia; fear. When, across the globe, people are being regularly beheaded, lashed, stoned, burned and thrown from buildings and this is earnestly claimed to be the will of allah, is it not prudent to fear such events becoming commonplace? And given the inability of moderate muslims to bring about any cessation of such hostilities, openly declare their allegiance to the umma above all, isn’t it a pretty reasonable reaction to exercise caution in trusting people who identify by religion – any religion - first?
Above all, don't believe it
because it was on Facebook!
How do we deal with all the bullshit, which is woven through all media everywhere? It’s simple, really. Next time somebody trots out a lazy factoid – like a fact, but only superficially so – challenge it. Assume every news story is simply a version of the truth and that all out of context words, actions, numbers and even images can be and often are employed to tell a story quite different from the actual events. Keep an open mind but question everything, but most of all ask yourself, what really happened here... and who benefits from the version being told?
Tuesday, 5 March 2019
So Jeremy Corbyn was egged. For many years this has been the staple of the non-violent yet effective and humiliating expression of discontent with politicians with whom you disagree. Not to mention the brief respite it brings from the unmitigating serious dreariness of the same old politics. In response somebody resurrected an old tweet from the Boy Wonder, Owen-Sanctimony-Jones and Rachel Riley retweeted it. Jones was saying that all one had to do to avoid an egging was not to be a Nazi. What was that about the past coming back to haunt you?
Ms Riley was then assailed.as the Twittersphere exploded in indignation, the anonymous eggs and the hard-boiled Corbynistas organising their usual dogpile, casting down all their self-righteous, moral high-grounded indignation upon the heads of we lesser mortals in - you guessed it - the ‘far-right’. This came just days after David-Comedy-Gold-Lammy wet his pants over the confected ‘white saviour syndrome’ whereby virtue signalling slebs use needy images of African children to persuade all you white supremacists to bestow alms on the unworthy ne’er-do-wells of the dark continent.
Then yesterday the Twitter account of perpetual victim and benefit monkey Rachel Swindon was suspended and once again the indignity gland spewed forth its unctuous bile, shattering the fragile shell of civility. Oh and lest I forget, Diane Abbott spent the last weekend as a star speaker at a symposium to organise against the rise of the far right. To which panic the BBC Radio 4 Today presenters added their voices of alarum and concern over the news that under the firm stewardship of Gerard Batten Ukip’s numbers have risen healthily during these last few months of Brexit resistance.
All of this comes hard on the heels of the comprehensive de-platforming of a man who is rapidly becoming a symbol for the new resistance in UK society. Batten’s embracing of Tommy (not his real name, didyanno?) Robinson, is almost certainly benefitting Ukip’s more determined supporters while deterring the runny-dipper, no confrontation, Tory-lite types. You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, so this has to be good news, surely? Honestly, if you want any reasons to restrict population growth you only have to look at the left to see what a useless bunch of agony-porn-addicted grief monkeys the human race is capable of descending into. Jacob Bronowski must be spinning under his marble slab in Highgate Cemetery.
The left always seems to act with knee-jerk hysteria. Egging on the gullible to join the clamour they heavily clamp down on the freedom of expression of anybody with whom they disagree, without even hearing the argument, with a fervour that would impress any fascist in history. Yet they react as if they have been physically violated the second the mildest censure is applied to one of their own. How do you like your public discourse; fried or boiled? Scrambled, more like.
What's missing from this picture?
Meanwhile their mythical bogeyman, the fabled far right, far from shining up their jackboots and marching into Poland are busy oiling the wheels of commerce and keeping their heads below the parapet to avoid the sights of leftist snipers. Keep your nose clean, carry on and clean up the mess. And especially if you work in any part of the public sector, don’t ever let your true allegiances be known. No wonder the opinion polls are always wrong. Yolking aside, can we hope that real change is coming?
Wednesday, 27 February 2019
We’ve all seen the movie and it is the same every time. Eventually, somebody makes an offer that can’t be refused. The hapless victim turns to others for help, only to find that the friend, the tutor, the mentor, the governor... the president, even, is in cahoots with the mob. The corruption runs both deep and wide and eventually our man has only one choice – confront the issue head-on and employ extreme violence. Shit or bust.
Reason didn’t work. Pragmatic acceptance of the situation fared no better because once the capitulation was acknowledged the demands merely increased; if he’ll put up with this, why not also insist on this? Negotiation never even got started because whatever bargaining chip the protagonist thought he held was utterly defeated by the counter threats. Do as we demand or the kid gets it. Pay up or lose the dog. We pull the strings, you dance, sucker.
Oh, it all started so innocently. What do you want? They asked. We can make your wishes come true. But what seemed like a perfectly simple and amicable agreement soon accrued compound political interest and with each passing day the stakes grew bigger and the stories of what would happen became wilder and more extreme. Everywhere he turned those who he thought were his allies presented their backs. Warm off-the-record words and private promises turned sour as they publicly reneged on commitments vaguely mumbled behind closed doors.
Who profits? Who knows? The murky currents of this malicious crime organisation run deep and strong, but they cannot be completely invulnerable; they must have a weak spot. They think not. Even the miserable henchman senses ultimate triumph: “...with their backs against the wall, the abyss in front of their eyes and a knife on their throat. We are nearly there. If some time is needed after the end of March then that will not be a problem for the 27.” Oh really, Weasel Van Rompuy? Let’s see about that.
Is this what you want? Well, you asked for it...
Act Three: Redemption. Beaten, bloodied, but unbowed, it is finally clear that any deal the mob might make will be worse than the last. Down that route lies utter subjugation and defeat. The thugs will never back down and the intimidation will continue unless something changes. Enter the reluctant hero. And the nuclear option. Never say never. Hasta la vista muchachos. Yippee ki-yay motherfuckers. Our hero pilots the atomic bomb toward the Death Star... mutually assured destruction, our last card...roll the credits.
Thursday, 21 February 2019
I’ll leave it to others to comment at length, as they have, on how the Independent Group (now joined by Soubry and the Sourpusses) epitomise irony. But in case you missed it, they think independence is a good thing for them, yet a bad thing for the UK and secondly that despite them all backing a second referendum with remain as an option (but won’t say it out loud) none are willing to give their own constituents a vote... now they know all the facts. The irony horse has bolted from the stable.
Instead I’m taking a shot at the language, the bile and invective sprayed all around like a rampant muck-spreader on crack by Soubry about the imagined ‘far- right’. So determined is she to see the fingers of the far-right in every expression of disagreement she may as well morph into James O’Brien and get it all over and done with. She still manages to both oppose Brexit yet believe she is supporting the referendum vote by ignoring it; the level of cognitive dissonance she suffers must be like tinnitus.
Supporting Brexit does not make you far-right. Wanting an independent – oh look, there’s that lovely word again – Britain does not make you some kind of jack-booted fascist. Not wanting to be ruled from afar is as British as you can get and you might wish to recall the British have a bloody good track record at fighting fascism. Look it up, while history still reports it thus. Soubry’s hyperbole is as ridiculous as Owen Jones’s ‘Winston Churchill was worse than Hitler’ trope he was flogging last week. I mean what is wrong with you people?
Soubry, Allen and Wollaston are claiming to be real Conservatives, trying to save the Party from what has been described as far-right infiltration from top to bottom, when all we see is New-Labour-Lite. Heidi Allen even went so far as to say that the big parties “...want to crush the birth of democracy." This is the same Heidi Allen who has left one of those big parties in order to thwart the outcome of the biggest democratic vote this country has ever held.
Newspeak, is of course the inevitable result of doublethink and the Independent Group are displaying all the glorious traits of Orwell’s IngSoc as they whip up extremism of their own. In fact, breaking away and forming your own group is the very essence of revolution; how very Trotsky of them. And inciting the kind of anti-Brexit rhetoric they do, is so redolent of the two minute hate... except that it isn’t confined to two minutes; it is non-stop.
The only way this rabble can claim to be centrist is that they blend together the extremist tendencies of both left and right, speaking about democracy while opposing it, demanding action against hate while promoting it. Were it not for the voracious appetite of 24-7 news their disjointed message would have already been lost. Instead (much like the Labour Party of late) they are all popping up in interviews to renounce their earlier affirmed stances and to contradict each other in their aims.
If you see any of these lost souls, please inform their carers
If only they would decide to tell the truth and come out as the Anti-Brexit Party. But even the frothing Soubry, the remainer zealots’ zealot, for all her talk of ‘Bluekip’ and ‘Purple Momentum’ still cannot admit to herself that she may not be an actual Conservative. Also she may have been on the Sherry. Anyway, Independents, you were the ones who chose to leave a situation you couldn’t reform from within. Should you put yourselves up for re-election you really haven’t a leg to stand on, which is just as well, as you have no intention of standing.
Wednesday, 20 February 2019
The newly formed Independent Group of ex-Labour MPs say they want a new politics, not driven by ideology. But wait, what is politics, after all, if it doesn’t pursue a vision? Mere governance need not cleave to left or right, but simply acts in the best interests of the majority, surely? Yes, look after the helpless, but otherwise act for all. Ideologies on the other hand seek more, well, ideological outcomes. And Labour comes from the soak the rich, kill the rich, tax the rich, banish the rich (but still tax them), hate the rich, harry the rich end of the spectrum. Where does this put the band of seven?
There were said to be seven capital vices, otherwise known as the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth. Just for a bit of fun, let’s look at the sinners a little more closely.
Pride, they say, goes before a fall and Chuka Umunna simply can’t help himself. As a closeted gay Tory in real life, he clearly chose the Labour Party as one in which his dusky skin tones gave him more of a leg up than his natural parliamentary home. Alas his bid for leadership fell at the first hurdle and consigned him forever to be the bridesmaid and never the bride. No doubt he sees himself as leader of this new group... watch out for that tumble!
Chris Leslie, who supports a deeply unpopular soft Brexit with a customs union and single market membership, has criticised Labour for not demanding a second referendum, with Remain an option. He claims his Constituency Labour Party has been infiltrated by the intolerant hard left which seeks to deselect him. It doesn’t look as he has much to lose by quitting. Oh how he must envy Chuka’s suave, Tory presence and winning ways with the, er, laydeez.
Gavin Shuker (who he?) at only 37, is the whippersnapper of the gang of seven. But greedy for power he has founded a secretive company ‘Gemini A Ltd’ who are said to be the backers behind The Independent Group. As the sole director, wee Gavin clearly hopes his grip on the purse strings will deliver him the attention he craves. And as for Mike Gapes carrying, as he does a few extra pounds, are we to detect a touch of the glutton?
Then we come to the ladies and who would wish to feel the wrath of a woman scorned? Still less the incandescent fury of Luciana Berger – the anti-anti-Semite’s anti-anti-Semite. Or indeed Angela Smith whose slip of the tongue over ‘funny-tinge-gate’ betrays, maybe, an obsession with the dusky. Methinks, however, her lust will go unanswered by the chhekily mocha Chuka. As for Ann Coffey, in a vox-pop from her ward a constituent claimed she had never done a thing for the area, so a sloth in sheep’s clothing, or simply the left, ever quick to turn on their own?
Still waters don't always run so deep
Of course, Ms Coffey has form in backing losers. She nominated Liz Kendall for the Labour leadership in 2015 and endorsed Owen Smith in same failed endeavour in 2016. Whatever the truth behind it all, what seems by now abundantly clear is how few ripples this has really caused in the political talent pool. If you are going to start a breakaway movement you really need some bigger headline acts than this. Maybe seven deadly sinners was too big a label; they are more like the seven dwarves, which begs the question: which one is the most Dopey?
Sunday, 17 February 2019
I remember, back in the sixties, our next door neighbours were proud to have marched in the Ban the Bomb demonstrations. It had no effect on either government policy or their own lives and when I got to know them a little I realised it was for them just a jolly day out with a bunch of other young people, making a noise for the sake of it and justifying it by pretending to themselves that they cared. They didn’t. Even back then there were families who could survive on a combination of the dole, cash in hand work and the black market. Far from being good little socialists and humanists they were on the take, allowing others to take the strain.
The world faces many challenges and most responsible governments – including our own, believe it or not – are taking steps to meet them. On climate change, for instance, since 2010, the UK has reduced its CO2 emissions by a quarter: 50% more than any other G20 country. And in 2017 the UK cut more CO2 than the rest of the EU27 put together. That was under Theresa May and the Conservatives. Yes, the very same Theresa May the striking children were calling to be fucked. Charmers, aren’t they?
In fact the real thrust of the Socialist Worker assisted kiddy-strike was laid bare in their chants ‘Fuck Theresa May’ and ‘Tories out’ oh and ‘Oh, Jeremy Corbyn’. And many banners read ‘System Change not Climate Change’. The news media delighted in broadcasting lisping infants reading out emotive copied-out essays, but this was no cuddly attempt to bring people together and heal the planet; it was a naked and blatant manipulation of malleable minds.
The left have long argued for children to be given the vote and the far left have absolutely no compunction over weaponising the gullible. They do it with old people, with poor people, with black people, with muslims; they lie to them and tell them how badly they are done by under the hated Tories and then promise to magically tax the country to a standstill to somehow make it all better. The truth of course, is that the UK government record is exemplary in comparison to most of the rest of the world, but the truth has no traction here.
And the truth behind this irresponsible action is that kids were used as a political human shield for the only real aim of the hard left, which is to hold power. Forever. In their warped thinking the great socialist revolutions of the past only failed because of the frailty of corrupt leadership. In their new Utopia without the threat of ever being deposed by the demos, they will finally shape the world in their version of Marx’s image. Religions hold sway over people by telling them comforting tales and damning warnings; extreme socialism does the same.
Socialist worker? Biggest oxymoron in politics.
For my generation it was the threat of nuclear Armageddon. Today it seems climate change is the preferred cover. In either case the inconvenient truth is that children, who have only recently discovered the truth about the Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas, are too easily manipulated by the shiny baubles and gewgaws of Socialist Santa and his demonic elves and Friday's so-called strike was a prime example of how easily emotions can defeat facts. Still think we should let children vote?
Friday, 15 February 2019
“Let's go for a little walk” sang 70s pop combo Showaddywaddy, “Under the moon of love”. So off went the so-called ISIS brides for a little walk into Syria, except they went under a blood moon, for reasons that were the opposite of love. Today there is much misnomeric talk of ‘hate crime’ for expressing opinions. Whether out of ignorance or antipathy, hate is an inappropriately intense adjective, but to those who went to wage war against the world true hatred was at the heart of their devotions.
Now poor, duped Shamima Begum wants to come ‘home’. Home, to the country she left in order to support an ideology for which the utter destruction of the west was front and foremost on the wish list. Home, where the hated kuffar live, where one day her religious cult seeks to establish supremacy over all. “She was only a child when she went” say her supporters and white-guilt-ridden apologists. Yet she is reported to have said she wasn’t fazed by the sight of severed heads; they were the severed heads of those whose only ‘crime’ was not to submit to islam.
In her ‘community’ a white British girl who had multiple pregnancies in her teens would have been held as an exemplar of the worthlessness of the non-believer. Such supposed trash were exploited in their thousands. They were raped and traded for sex by Begum’s muslim brothers and nobody cared. The agencies which should have protected them shamefully turned their back for fear of offending muslims. Offending. Not raping, beating, maiming or beheading muslims. Not driving them out and rendering them homeless and stateless and utterly dependent on charity. Simply to avoid offending them.
Now, despite Sajid Javid’s bold words of defiance we know there is every chance that she could be quietly returned to the UK where she will be afforded, even as a war criminal, a dignity and sympathy denied the many victims of the doctrine for which she advocates. Yes she will be questioned, possibly she will be jailed, but with such a high profile there will be human rights vultures watching the authorities’ every move for signs of abuse. She has said she doesn’t regret what she did; she should be begging for mercy, not assuming she has any right to return. But if she returns the story won’t stop there.
Moors murderer Myra Hindley was arguably the same, caught up by a romantic dalliance with a psychotic lover; a mere follower of evil, not evil herself but misled. Lord Longford advocated for years that she had changed her ways and no matter that she was locked away, she has still not left the public consciousness. What’s to say a repatriated Begum won’t become some kind of high profile martyr to the cause? Some argue that mercy is what separates ‘us’ from ‘them’, that forgiving and showing compassion is more powerful than punishing.
But what do we gain from being the bigger man here if she brings her haughty arrogance and disdain for the non-islamic world back to the world’s recruiting ground for jihad? Far better, surely, that she is forgotten. Let the world she travelled to absorb her and bury her. Showaddywaddy also reprised ‘Three Steps to Heaven’, but there is really only one. Let’s leave her where she is and let her complete her jihad by taking that first step.
Wednesday, 13 February 2019
The other day, I tweeted, in reply to another tweet about humans and climate change : “A smaller and more cohesive population, better using resources, with increased productivity could enjoy great prosperity and actively SHRINK its economy and thus its impact.” After all, if we are the cause, fewer of us can only be a good thing. On the same basis if the cause of wars, as it so often is, is dispute over territory, then fewer challengers must, logically, reduce the pressure to compete for space.
From a mass migration perspective, too, the invaded indigenous people of advanced nations are justifiably worried by what they see as an invasive horde with disparate beliefs, disrupting the balance of society and sparking off more conflict. Wherever you look, more people than a landscape can comfortably support leads to strife, which is why people of means often move out to less densely populated areas to de-stress, recover their sanity and, well, just breathe more easily.
No matter how you assess the Earth’s resources, they are undeniably finite and so there must come a time, unless you somehow curb the proliferation of humanity, when there simply isn’t enough. Unfortunately, there are some who will repeat the old trope that the whole world population will fit into Texas/Wales/Isle of Wight, etc. Sure, yeah, right... if they stand quietly and don’t move around too much. It’s a stupid argument, trotted out by the sort of person who believes that the world will end the day after Brexit; repeated by the sort of mind which accepts without question something they overheard in the pub.
When I suggested that this notion was a crock, ignoring as it does, the need for roads and fields and schools and businesses and houses and ... the simple sanity of being able to get away from the throng, the response was: “Rubbish....do the maths...the whole world easily fits into Texas...stop believing the lies and propaganda...it’s all designed to control us and have us infighting.” Wow, that level of tinfoil-hattery needs a response. So, I did the maths:
The area of Texas is 695,662 km² and a square kilometre contains a million square metres, so we have 695,662,000000 m2 to share among 7.7 billion people as of the end of 2018 (and that number is growing daily). That gives us 90 m2 per person, which equates to a square of side 9.5 metres for us each to stand in, or about the floor area of a small three-bedroomed British town house. Of course, at least half of Texas is desert, so that’s an issue. And deserts are notoriously short of water and fertile soil, but I’m sure all of this can be solved by exploiting all of the rest of the planet to support us. (Although it is going to be one hell of an ambitious engineering project to shift all that water.)
Is 90 m2 enough? Well, it turns out that studies by organisations like the Global Footprint Network estimate that, globally, it takes 2.7 hectares to support the average world citizen. That is 27,000 m2 or 300 times the space you’ll get in Texas. And that is a global average. If you look at western lifestyles, we need twice or three times that to live as we do. A lot of people have concluded that we are already consuming more than the planet can reasonably provide and this can only be obtained by further reducing the life chances of the majority.
Where's Wally? In Texas... with everybody else.
Of course, this raises all sorts of issues about how we intend to carry on in the future. We should certainly get better at food production, but there are already fears that soil fertility is decreasing. We could maybe shift away from meat eating. And as robotics and artificial intelligence improves we can probably do more with less space. But the voracious appetite of humans for, well, stuff, means that demand for land is unlikely to reduce significantly.
Nobody who is serious doubts that the size of the human population places huge demands on the planet and as our numbers increase those demands become more injurious. Yes, we can get better and yes we could impose limits on what people can expect from their lives, but isn’t this limitation exactly what drives third world migrants to seek the excesses of the first? I mean, you may wish to stand shoulder to shoulder with the whole world in Texas... but you would have to be mad to want to.
Sunday, 10 February 2019
Madness takes many forms and many are taken by madness in their dotage, throwing off their clothes and wandering naked in the street, much to the anguish of all those who care about them. Rending garments is an oft-invoked cypher for distress. Wandering unclothed in the rain is how many deranged movie victims have been portrayed; it is practically a meme for madness. Naturism is something a few oddballs indulge in away from the prying eyes of voyeurs. Stripping for money has become almost respectable these days, so ubiquitous is it, but de-robing for protest loses its potency after the first mild-shock encounter.
So what do we make of the Naked Britain woman? The daft doctor Victoria Bateman (and what a name for a rabid feminist) is bating men by getting her kit off and ... well, what? In her own mind she thinks she has a worthwhile message but she intones her script like a robot preaching at rather slow children. She has meaningless graffiti scrawled on her flesh ‘Brexit leaves Britain naked’ it says, but the only naked thing here is her and her obsession... and she is clearly stark-staring mad.
Bateman’s muff has trended on Twitter, her tits are all over TV and her snatch is on snapchat
People click the links, or go to see her on stage out of a sense of voyeuristic horror – she is a freak show, the kind of crazy lady they used to stone and drive out of the village. Quite what she hopes to achieve, apart from frightening the children, is unclear. Yes, she’s against Brexit but so what; the entire establishment is against Brexit and they have made their point more forcibly while fully clothed. In fact you might even conclude that Sticky Vicky’s baring all actually detracts from the message.
She is a Cambridge economics ‘fellow’, which nomenclature almost certainly leaves her hopping mad, but nobody is interested in her economics. She may be in favour of the laissez faire free market or planned, centralised control, but who knows and frankly who cares? She just wants to wave her angry vagina at everybody. She stripped off during her interview with Jon Humphrys a couple of days ago – a perfect example of radio’s real value – and she has challenged Jacob Rees Mogg to debate sans ensemble, to what purpose is unclear, as all of her interviews invariably go much like this:
· Why are you naked?
· MEN OPPRESS WOMEN
· Yes, but did you need to take your...
· BREXIT LEAVES BRITAIN NAKED
· Surely, though, you can make the same point fully clothe...
· MEN ALWAYS CONTROL WOMEN’S BODIES
· Well, not yours, it seems because
· DON’T OPPRESS ME
· Why do you think people will listen if you appear naked?
· BREXIT LEAVES BRITAIN NAKED
Her body... not that WE get much choice.
Well, she wanted the attention and she’s got it, but for all the wrong reasons. Nobody is listening to a word she says, but she’s lucky, really. Corporal Klinger in M*A*S*H couldn’t get posted home because his catch 22 was the real deal – to feign madness was clearly sane. Cambridge University has enough nutters that they won’t bat an eyelid at batty Bateman’s body, but for many an employer, to go about flaunting your flabbies in public would be bringing them into disrepute. And that is the bare truth of it all.
Friday, 8 February 2019
So, following a catastrophic, dead-end, crashing-out, cliff edge no-deal, Billy-no-mates Brexit... what then? Will bodies line the roads? Will rickety-legged children hobble on their crutches to sell matches in the dim-lit, cobbled streets of London? Will pestilence rise up and take the halt and the sick? And will dark predators roam the alleys looking to sell the last few healthy infants into slavery in Africa?
Under the listless, sickly sun of perpetual winter, the drizzle of acid rain will slowly erode the steel structures of modernity and revert Britain to a nation of medieval hovel-dwellers, preferably with pungent animal dung as the primary building material. After all, it’s what they deserve, those who dared to dream of freedom. They didn’t have a plan to leave. They didn’t know what voting for Brexit would mean. They have brought us down; they have killed Britannia.
This is the remainers’ wet dream, a world of ruin and defeat, of squalor and hopelessness and all because of Brexit. They repeatedly told us we voted to destroy our children’s future, and come April they are damn well determined to be proven right. So instead of accepting the reality, which is that Brexit will touch few lives with any great significance and some lives in minor ways, for most people it will be no worse than changing jobs, moving house, going through puberty, getting married, or simply having to accept a new form for submitting your expenses.
The everyday lives of probably over 95% of the population will not change at all. But there will be some significant changes. Those who dared – despite the beatings – to vote to leave will be more determined than ever to make a go of it. Some will really prosper, but all will feel a sense of pride, of belonging, of ownership of the country once again. Brexit isn’t a setback, it’s an opportunity. The EU doesn’t want to play? We’ll change the game; it’s our ball, after all and we can put our goalposts down wherever we wish.
No deal is pretty much assured...
Remainers will watch, miserable, from the side-lines, as plucky little Britons do what we have always done – mustn’t grumble, make the best of it and crack on. In time the majority will convert, or at least shrug and realise there is no point in their futile rejection of facts – actual facts, not the imagined facts they tout today. And in the end those who will not accept the democratic will of the majority will wither away, leave or retreat into obscurity. Do this right and we will leave the EU, we will also leave behind the whiny bitches of Remain.
Thursday, 7 February 2019
Let’s be clear, there are some first class pricks on the side of Brexit. At times I cringe when I read their ungrammatical, misspelled, guttural rants in AllCaps on social media. I don’t really want them on the same side as me, validating as they so often do, the absolute conviction of Remainers that only far-right, uneducated racist thugs voted to leave their precious European Union. Swastika facial tattoos, skin-headed, vest-wearing bigots with IQs lower than their single digit number of teeth are no help to the cause.
But then out come the big guns and gargantuan gobs of the enemy. Yes, the enemy; what else do you call those who would deny the right of a supposed democracy to enact a democratic decision? How else can you possibly label those who are determined that this country must not have the freedom to make its own choices? Against a majority of those who dared vote to leave despite the fierce condemnation, personal abuse and shrieking hostility Remainers still insist that they alone had the knowledge and intellect to participate.
There are those on the right, of course, who voted to remain, but overall the in/out division seems to be broadly on left/right ideological lines. It appears to be a moral high ground issue; in order to join a leftist cause – green causes, global warming, anti-Trump trumpeting, Antifa, anti-Zionism, open borders, etc – you must first render yourself incapable of grasping nuanced argument. Don the cloak of moral superiority and your confirmation bias becomes unassailable. You lack any empathy with those who disagree and refuse to accept the consistent replies to your insistent, repeated, questioning howls of ‘but why?’
Even when the wolf you keep crying about fails to appear you keep on crying and look ever harder to see proof for your cause even in the most damning evidence against. Brexit is a fine example. Many Labour supporters who voted to leave have never been of the left, espousing views on family, nationhood and personal wealth which run directly contrary to the manifesto of the party they vote for... but that just proves what ignorant bigots they must be, doesn’t it? We tell you the EU is not the close friend you wish to believe and then, when EU leaders demonstrate their contempt for Brexit voters, you cheer them on.
If anybody missed yesterday’s proclamations from the dynamic duo of Donald Tusk and Guy Verhofstadt it went like this:
Donald: I've been wondering what that special place in hell looks like, for those who promoted #Brexit, without even a sketch of a plan how to carry it out safely.
Guy: Well, I doubt Lucifer would welcome them, as after what they did to Britain, they would even manage to divide hell *smiley face*
Meet your masters...
The arrogant bastards. We weren’t cajoled, coerced or conned into voting to leave; we did it in the full certainty that, whatever the cost, an independent Britain was better than being chained to and following the lead of the EU political project. Tusk’s derision illustrated perfectly what we voted against. For my part I’m glad we're all going to hell. Can you imagine the collective misery of the alternative if that's where all the self-righteous Remainers are ending up?
Thursday, 3 January 2019
I had an electric car once. The range was pathetic... the cord only stretched about 50 feet. An oldie but nevertheless still illustrative of a truism, that although electric cars may be the future, it will be a future quite different from the one advertised. There may yet be inductive charging while in motion, kerbside hook-ups every fifteen feet and the opportunity for some to charge up for free at work, but the electricity has to be reliably generated somewhere.
And about that reliability thing: until we get 24/7 sunshine, or constant, not-too-weak/not-too-strong wind we have to generate that electricity by, you guessed it, fossil fuel, because much of the world has turned against nuclear. So, the real power behind electric cars is not clean, fresh, free-to-harvest renewables, but good old coal and gas. Add in the cost of mining all that toxic cadmium and other expensive, exotic metals and it is almost certain you can show that cough for cough, electric cars are more environmentally harmful than diesel
But long before we get to the stage when environmentalists begin to campaign against electric cars we need to spend a whole bunch of cash just to make electron-propelled transport viable. Where do you live and where do you work? Do you have a nice driveway where you can recharge? Or, like far more of the population, do you need to park across the road, in the next street, or just in a different spot every evening because, muh, congestion?
Who is going to build all the power stations needed? It has been widely reported that China builds a new coal-fired power station about every three seconds, yet in the UK we get one new nuclear plant every fifty years. And how is all that electricity to be distributed; who is going to build the infrastructure? You guessed it, not us. The Germans and the French already seem to own our power market anyway, so hey, let’s throw more of our capital away in pursuit of what still seems, to me, to be an improbable dream.
Why the push for all-electric transport then? Well, obviously it is whatever form of climate change we are trying to reverse this week. And if energy usage is the bogeyman, why increase it? Turning fossil fuel into motive power, heat, light, etc is more effective if you cut out the middle man of costly (to build, maintain, manage and bill for) energy networks which merely increase complexity. This introduces efficiency losses at each stage of the process: extraction, transport, conversion , distribution, etc and adds administrative costs as the bureaucracy of the systems involved each take their slice.
Drax power station in South Yorkshire converted to the ‘carbon neutral’ wonder fuel known as biomass some years ago. Not only is this more expensive, but it is ultimately more polluting, especially when you take into account the supply chains and deforestation involved in the base fuel. Drax is built pretty much on top of a massive source of coal, which it used to burn. If the Chinese and the Germans are allowed to get away with coal-fired, why do we have to pay for what they produce from afar when we have it right here?
Faced with rising costs, British consumers of electricity have been economising and their adoption of more efficient devices, low energy lighting and a bit of common sense is paying dividends. The electric car might be a shiny carrot of a pseudo-incentive, but we have always responded quicker to a beating and the big stick of electricity tariffs has been pushing our usage down for years. It was reported this morning (BBC World Service news) that we are now using less electricity in the UK than in the eighties and that our thrift has been more influential in this than the combined ‘contribution’ of both wind and solar power.
Plug into a nearby taxpayer's wallet and she's ready to go...
So, the experts’ solution to our future energy needs is to increase our demand for electricity? And to do this they will add extra taxes into your electricity bills? Doesn’t this sound rather like the sort of things a drug baron might do - increase dependency, push up the price? Are those in control really a part of the solution at all, or rather the largest part of the problem? By all means buy an electric runabout today, but suggest your kids look into coal, oil and gas for future careers... just in case.
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
Money. It’s a funny old thing isn’t it? In an ideal world we would all have work which suited us, paid enough to allow us to spend our non-working time as we wished and have enough left over to fund the nicer things in life. Free, world-class healthcare for all, decent roads, affordable public transport , a legal system accessible and fair to everybody and an education system which produced balanced, thoughtful, useful future contributors to this blissful status quo, whether academically gifted or not.
But we don’t live in such a world and money, well it’s a tricky blighter, isn’t it? Where does it come from, for a start? And who does it ultimately belong to? This, I believe was the crack into which the otherwise sane and grounded Labour MP, Jess Philips, inserted her crowbar in a late entry to the most stupid tweet of the year competition.
Now, such a statement is not only factually incorrect in so many ways, it is also laughably naïve and ordinarily, you would expect the masses to descend, hooting and laughing, but an alarming number of players leapt in to defend her. She was trying to say – I generously think – that we all put in and we all take out and that it is entirely fair that some put in much more than others and some, deservedly, take out more, but that only works in the imaginary world of the first paragraph. David Vance challenged her assertion and was offered this myopic explanation by somebody else who clearly doesn’t grasp his brief:
It is an entirely rosy view of socialist style economics whereby the failings are hidden behind flowery words and peace and love and all the stuff you just can’t make a profit on, yet sound like the sort of lovely things we should all say to each other. But here’s the thing: If all that you receive is paid from the state coffers – not just benefit claimants but every single public sector employee – including MPs like Jess – then anything you pay back out of that makes literally zero contribution to the coffers.
Let’s do that in simple numbers. I give you a hundred pounds, you give me £30 back in tax and National Insurance, then after you spend the rest I get back another £14 in VAT. You have contributed literally nothing to my stash of cash (I’m £56 down) but Jess and Jonathan will thank you for your £44 contribution. This is the Ponzi system on which our society exists, but we don’t seem academically equipped to challenge; ‘we all pay tax’, my arse.
The thread carried on into the new year with this lucid but incorrect appraisal by the newly minted economist Jess and my reply to it – much as outlined above - attracted all the opprobrium you would expect from the similarly deluded.
I particularly enjoyed Mark’s contribution, for which I am truly grateful – it can be tricky keeping up the small minded prick persona.
Now, I quite like Jess Phillips. She is down to earth, clearly concerned and engaged and is absolutely a force for good in the world. But the politics she espouses are where it all grinds to a shuddering halt. Labour – under any leader – is a recipe for economic cataclysm. Begin pretending that we are all contributors and it is but a short step to conclude we must also all be entitled to receive. Which brings us back to this: where does the money actually come from and whose does it belong to, really? Go on, ask yourself...
The ones who got rich from the gold rush were those who sold blankets and shovels. In many economies especially that of the EU-run UK, the appearance of success is created by churn, a steady recirculating of cash. We only possess it for a while and we only have the illusion of control over it. So, unless you have savings - real, they-can’t-touch-it-or-devalue-it savings - the reality is that the company store owns it all; in the biggest gamble of your life, the house always wins. It has taken me over forty years of full-time work to finally appreciate the truism that work is, indeed, its own reward. I consider myself one of the lucky ones.