I’m rather constrained today, given that it’s Friday and
the shaggy dog story has become something of a tradition. But given yesterday’s
judicial decision that democracy doesn’t necessarily mean Parliament should pay
any heed to what a majority of the electorate want, I would be remiss were I
not to at least touch on it. Most of us who have waited forty-one years to get
another chance to leave the sclerotic club of unelected ruling elites who have
gradually been killing off national identities and impoverishing millions of
people, while enriching its officials beyond the wildest dreams of those who
are ruled over, know exactly what it was all about.
If leaving the EU was going to involve impossible legal
contortions you’d think that somebody – anybody (just one?) - in Westminster,
might have thought of it and consulted beforehand. Why not? Because nobody ever
believed the vote would go against those who have for years regarded elections
as mere contrivances for giving the appearance of democracy. Or maybe they knew
full-well and so it was left to a private – and extremely wealthy – citizen to
bring a court case challenging the right of the government to invoke Article 50
despite there having been a six-to-one majority in the house to let the
population make that decision.
No matter how they try and twist this so they can say
they have given us what we wished for – Parliamentary sovereignty – they are
totally missing the point. The ‘destination’ that Tim Farron keeps wanking on
about was always clear; out of the EU. Not with one hand still grimly clutching
on to the flotsam from the wreckage but free and clear and independent again.
Free to fuck ourselves in the arse if we so wish. And most particularly, free
to have laws which reflect the culture that shaped the entire world’s
civilisation; not those of a despotic, dynastic tyranny masquerading as
democracy by having only one option on the ballot paper.
This is the reason that people don’t trust lawyers. Maybe
not the family solicitor, the humble conveyancer, or the barristers that do
their best to defend the wrongfully accused. But those who from on high decide
that foreign rapists have a right to a family life and assistance from the
public purse. Those who decide cases not on clear merit but on obscure points
of law for the benefit of the highest fee-payer. Those who give the legal
profession its disdainful face and literally lord it over the rest of us. If
there is ever another peasants’ revolt it will turn on the decision of a High
Court Judge. Them and us, them and us...
And the winner is...
Following a decision that pleased the establishment but nobody
else and sent newspaper copywriters into a spin, dreaming up punning headlines
about deaf, dumb and blind lady justice, one such judge was riding home in the
back of his limousine when he saw a man eating grass by the roadside. Such odd
behaviour piqued his curiosity and he ordered his driver to stop. He wound down
his window and barked, “You, sir! What the devil do you think you’re doing?”
The peasant replied, "We don't have any money for
food. I lost my job to a Lithuanian who is paid half what I used to get and
when we couldn’t pay the rent any more, our council house was given to a Somalian
family.” The judge thought for a moment and then said “Oh, come home with me then.
Hop in, chop-chop!” The man hesitated, then said “But sir, I have a wife and four
children” and he indicated his family who were also chewing grass a little further
along the verge. The judge insisted that they were welcome, too.
They all climbed into the limousine and set off. After a
few minutes of uneasy silence, the commoners uncertain whether they were
allowed to engage in conversation with one so lofty, the wife cleared her
throat and tentatively said, “Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking us
all in like this.” The judge beamed the smile of the righteous and replied “Don’t
mention it dear lady, "The grass in the paddock must be two feet tall.”
