Getting Cocky

This morning on the drive in to work, I caught a radio report about men in the UK seeking penile enlargement in ever increasing numbers. To avoid the cost of professional surgery, some were injecting their ‘lad’ with oils, Vaseline and other substances presumably sold under the counter for that express purpose. Fortunately the NHS is, as ever, on hand to rescue people from self-inflicted injury and self-directed stupidity.

As I get older I rarely claim any more to have the first clue what is going on in society. News, politics, science, etc, I get, but I have never been completely at ease with the sheer banality of ambition of the narcissists who strut and preen among us. The women who want to look exactly like Barbie, the doll. The incomprehensible need of many to adopt the Instagram pout and adorn their portrait with puppy noses and ears. The obsession of – while otherwise aiming for normal body proportions – white women trying to achieve the over-inflated, genetically specific, steatopygia arse. What is wrong with you all?

The cosmetic/beauty/fitness/glamour industries and all their offshoots occupy far too much of the national consciousness. So-called ‘reality’ TV and the public flaunting of your vanity, ignorance, lack of shame and sheer vacuity ought to be a target for ridicule. Instead it just encourages the morons to gag for more. Worse, nonentities end up becoming idols for people whose former life dreams rarely strayed far from their next fix of fried chicken and contraband cigarettes.

But all that pales in comparison with the phenomenon of blokes injecting oil into their old man. Why? Seriously, by the time you get the chance to deploy your wee man-missile, the battle has been won. Unless you have an acorn instead of a mighty oak it is unlikely she will even notice unless, you know, she has lots of very clear memories against which to compare your, er performance. But isn’t performance what it’s all about? Titchy Tom Cruise plays the giant Jack Reacher, for heaven’s sake; doesn’t that tell you anything?

We are not all blessed with looks, health, height and brains, but we make up for it with working with what we’ve got. Work faster, smarter, longer, harder or with more sheer persistence. Set goals and when you fall at the first hurdle, pick yourself up and start over; the only real architect of your success is you and when you sit at that drawing board you have to consider how to use what you have.

All the props – lift heels, hairpieces, tattoos, muscles – say far more negative things about you than you may imagine. What really matters is not how you change how you think you appear but how you deal with the hand you’ve been dealt. There is a level of vanity which is normal and makes us human. But vanity has got out of hand and self-awareness has been banished, along with personal responsibility; lost in the me-me-me culture which pervades.

So, if you’re looking in the mirror at your dick and wondering whether the object of your desire would admire a thicker one, just remember the object of your desire is almost certainly yourself. If you think that by having surgical alteration of a part of you that isn’t used as often as you’d like would improve the situation, consider how much action you’ll be having when the corrective skin graft is healing. Think once, think twice and don’t make a bigger prick of yourself than you already are.

Jobsworth

I almost feel sorry for Theresa May. Not so sorry that I don’t want her removed from office; to be honest she was a lacklustre and almost invisible Home Secretary and her slouch-shouldered, cringeworthy carriage does little to endear her to audiences. But she has done her job in a world which does not favour the bold any more and in managing to still occupy Number Ten after all the toxic briefings, leaks and open insurrection of party members she has demonstrated that she knows how to play the game of politics. Such a shame it is a game in which non-combatants take most of the casualties.

I have pondered the conundrum of the non-job economy which has proliferated over the last few decades. I can’t say I blame it on the EU, or on Tony Blair or any particular individual, but what I see depresses me. Some of the best paid jobs around bring approximately zero value to the world. Reciting the mantras of equality and diversity and trotting out the tired old memes that gender is a social construct, etc, requires no productive effort whatsoever. Yes, you expend a degree of mental energy in dreaming up new slogans, new arguments to cancel out the past and new ways to be offended, but what is the point of you?

The cogs in this right-on world somehow manage to mill money, to recycle wealth among themselves, but where did this wealth come from? The people who bake your bread and build your houses; the people who toil in manufacturing to make the things that clothe your world in luxury and convenience; the actual workers, who so many of you claim to represent are barely aware of your presence and if they do notice you, see you only as a detached talking head of no relevance to their own lives.

Millions of people are slaving away on minimal wages so that thousands can give themselves titles such as ‘head of customer experience’ in the NHS. They got sick, they saw the doctor, they got better. Customer experience? They are fucking ecstatic. And have you noticed how much more ‘diversity’ has been foisted upon us since they started coordinating it; what is it about the non-job universe that cannot see the damage they do? The rancid disease of identity politics infects young minds, poisons discourse and generally weakens the nation. Perhaps that’s the point.

And now, even the worlds’ top brains have signed a letter saying that science ‘might’ suffer if the UK leaves the EU. Et tu, scientists? Seriously, you people who live for the possibilities, search for the truth, uncover the meaning of the universe... you honestly think you can’t survive a change to your funding model? The mechanisms might differ but surely your enormous brains must be capable of explorative optimism and not the reductive misery of capitulation to non-job groupthink.

So yes, although I value Theresa May’s contribution to wellness in the world somewhere below where I would rate a half-decent doughnut, I appreciate it can’t be easy working out who you need to appease and then pretending to appease them. The bureaucracy of political correctness can often obscure your vision and blur the line between action and talking about action. But the talking is done now, so pleaser, Theresa, appease ‘em no more.

Despicable

It’s all over the news again and we may only now be realising the true scale of the problem, but the pattern has been clear for years. A group of men, some of them many decades older than their victims, and all of them from an identifiable significant minority have been demonstrating their powers and abusing their protected status to bring misery into the lives of many of the most vulnerable people in society. Their agenda and their methods are repeated up and down the country with impunity, as if they were laughing at us.

Using alternating threats and admonishments, occasionally tempered with declarations of sincere love and the bestowing of gifts to get their prey hooked, they have progressively groomed thousands and damaged the lives of thousands more. Many young people have grown up in their shadow and live chaotic lives into adulthood, unable to free themselves of their dependency on their despicable groomers.

This has been going on for many decades and has been facilitated by an establishment which did not want to know. Even now that the sheer enormity of the abuse is out in the open, the powers that be still refuse to admit their part in the whole scandalous affair. Turning a blind eye, refusing to act as so many people have implored them to do. We know they are not representative of the silent, peaceful, law-abiding majority but they continue to carry out their cultish atrocities in plain sight of the authorities, with impunity.

Within their own enclaves their evil is not only tolerated but, we must conclude, applauded as a blow against the British with whom they refuse to mix. Behind closed doors they debate and discuss ways to further infiltrate their ideology, replacing our culture with theirs. And they have kept their counsel until now, when we see them for what they are. But they may have come into the open too soon and now we know and we will never again trust our government and its agencies to keep us safe.

The new Europeans...

The world is watching what we do next and we need to demonstrate that we are no longer prepared to put up with it. The British will not be bullied into extinction but instead we must fight back. The first small blows have been struck, but we need to keep on going. If we can harden our resolve and stick to our principles and refuse to be made to feel ashamed by accusations of racism an end is in sight to this nightmare – we are leaving the EU and the whole Remainer class is just going to have to suck it up.

Mood Music

Once again a British Prime Minister has been to Brussels. Once again a British Prime Minister has been sent away with nothing, without even supper on this occasion. This ludicrously choreographed farce of Brexit-In-Name-Only is served up on a regular basis like a dire seventies sit-com, sans plot, sans imagination, sans entertainment, sans laughs. The PM barges on stage, her knickers fall down, the audience groans; we’ve seen it all before.

But wait, what light through yonder window breaks? Is it a new dawn or just the same old dreary daybreak? Suddenly, although the answer is still “Non!” as it always has been, we are told that there is a new body language, a new hope that maybe, just maybe, if we make yet more concessions... Body language? The only posture the slope-shouldered Theresa May now seems capable of is abject prostration at the feet of her masters. The UK electorate, you mean? No, it is clear who is in charge here and it is not we great British unwashed

We are told that the talks are ‘delicately poised’. Bollocks they are; the ‘deal’ was arranged months if not years ago.  All the rest has been obfuscation and delay and the Irish border question – as utterly irrelevant as it is – has somehow become the headline act. Nobody is here to see the bloody Irish border; we bought tickets for ringside seats at the battleground and instead have ended up in a bizare and unintelligible fringe event. This is nothing other than a stitch up.

There never was going to be an acceptable deal. We actually voted to leave behind all such arrangements and the EU has no intention of offering anything of any value, something it told David Cameron three years ago. We already voted on that no-deal, why are we being led down the garden path only to arrive at exactly the same point?

The EU – and by its naïve complicity, our own government – has done its best to make the whole Brexit process a thing of misery and fear and not the optimistic new wave of entrepreneurial energy it should have been. Our whole political class has behaved like despots desperately trying to cling onto the powers supposedly bestowed upon them by us and in the process utterly disregarding their proper allegiance and misunderstanding their place as servants, not masters.

When the whole sorry saga finally grinds to a halt and the bitter end is reached – and my god is it going to bitter – there is going to come a reckoning. In the meantime, how much longer is it going to take and how much more humiliation is Mrs May prepared to face before finally admitting what millions of us knew from the outset? The only response to the intransigence and mockery we have had to grin and bear is to leave the table and say “On yer way, Barnier”.

Just a matter of time

If we ignore it, perhaps it will go away? This might at first glance appear to be official government policy on islam in Britain, but you don’t have to look very far to see this is not true at all. Not only is the government – and the opposition – not looking away from the very clear muslim problem, it is actively conniving with the muslim brotherhood and its various subsidiaries to overthrow what is left of British identity.

There really is no such thing as a British muslim, as there are British Jews, British Christians, British Sikhs and British Hindus, because islam tolerates no other form of society once it has the power to impose its own totalitarianism on a conquered people. It is what it has done throughout its history and as far as the UK is concerned we are pretty much at tipping point. It may already be too late for our supposed leaders to turn around this oil tanker as it heads for the reef called sharia.

And it is happening across the civilised world; the barbarians are not only at the gates but streaming through, those portals held wide open by the forces of idiocy in authority driven by what I can only assume is a misplaced hope that the traitors will be beheaded last. There was no place for islam in the west until the west made one; past conflicts ensured that. But now, with the willing complicity of governments across Europe the mullahs look down upon beleaguered natives and see that the time is ripe. The EU has done their work for them:

First, create a supranational government and berate all who opposed it as narrow-minded xenophobes. Recruit the morons of the left who see all forms of pride – except of course the holy gay pride – as practically Nazism. Normalise the perverse, abandon the traditional and then open up your borders, usher in the invader with all his distasteful practices and barely veiled hatred of western culture, invite them to set up breeding colonies, protect them as if endangered species and to hammer home the point make judicious examples of all who object.

Import non-English speaking imams to set up jihadi groups and propagate hatred and then use native law to protect their headquarters from any attempt to discover what happens within. Object on cultural grounds to any attempt at restraint and assimilation. Subjugate the police to fawn at their feet and likewise bring in the infidel children to prostrate themselves at allah’s door. Build giant mosques and keep on breeding, keep on building and keep on taking, taking, taking the kuffar’s gold.

Replace native traditions with islamic ones. Make the celebration of Christmas an insult to islam and insist on parity for your minority traditions. Insist on ‘cultural sensitivity’, take over the food chain and make the vassals pay to have everything they eat certified halal. Cry racism and islamophobia at every turn... and keep on breeding.

This week Anjem Choudary is back on the streets, recruiting. The cost of monitoring him is hideous, yet  for fear of being called barbaric ourselves not a hair on his head was touched in jail, unlike others who have gone to prison at the behest of the government’s muslim masters. The police are already lost, the armed forces are rapidly being brought into the same line. Soon the only recourse for the citizen under siege will be direct action, for which they will be vigorously pursued and prosecuted. 

Storm coming

Statistics this week show an increase in the newly fashionable 'hate crime'. It matters not that much of this is perceived injustice and confected nonsense. In particular there seems to be some alarm and surprise that there is a supposed doubling of anti-islamic incidents. Nobody is surprised but the government. But nothing will be achieved by continuing to do nothing, other than facilitate what appears now to be inevitable. Religious war is coming. And we are not ready for it.