Showing posts with label Clacton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clacton. Show all posts

Saturday, 11 October 2014

They never learn...

Einstein, or somebody else clever, is supposed to have said that forever repeating the same actions, with the same undesired outcomes, is a sure sign of madness; much as banging your head against a wall will only exacerbate the pain of the first time. As they say, it ain’t rocket science, although Einstein may beg to differ. What it is though is plain old common sense. And by common I refer to the innate sense of justice of order, of right and wrong, primitive though it may be, of the common man.

Which is why it is almost painful to watch the old guard, both Labour and Conservative demonstrate their inability to think themselves outside the box against whose walls they are attempting to crack their skulls. Almost painful… with a side helping of glee and a hefty dose of incredulous fascination with just how ready they are to repeat the mistakes of the past. UKIP are racist fruitcakes, they said, as a result of which the racist fruitcakes – or as I like to call them, ordinary working class voters – switched their allegiance to the new kid on the block.

UKIP are nasty, they said; cue the further swelling of the ranks. Earnest thinkers pressed their heads together and came up with a new strategy…  Ukip are against immigration, which we all know is unremittingly ‘a good thing’, they announced. Meanwhile, the indigenous dispossessed, seeing the rising tide of mass, unskilled immigration overwhelm their local infrastructure came to different conclusions. And while Labour and Tory alike sought to paint those objections as bigotry, the parents of teenage girls abused by systematic imported sexual abuse on a massive scale sought out somebody, anybody, who would listen to them and make the right noises.

All along, the establishment parties have fought, not for the people who elect them but simply to retain their seats. And in that world of pure politics, where actions are the work of a lesser breed of ‘doer’ the solution is to keep on banging that head against the wall on which it is written that to maintain the illusion all is well is just as good as it being so. But down there in the common herd, where that repetitive denial of the truth and the refusal to examine the evidence causes real harm, what is obvious is that voters are despised by the political classes.

Even herds eventually learn from their mistakes and after a couple of generations of seeing the causal links between voting for Westminster and getting fuck all except castigation for their fears, the herd’s own head banging is stopping. All of a sudden the hated little people are banging instead the drum of support for a party of people much like themselves. Yes, the big boys are still claiming that Nigel Farage and Douglas Carswell are merely expellees from the same posh schools as Cameron and Miliband, but those hollow taunts are falling on ears wilfully deaf to anything the old mainstream parties have to say.

Stitched up like a 'Kipper!

It may turn out to be a complete waste of time… and energy and hope and finger-crossing, but the same old solution holds little appeal for those who live with the consequences of traditional government. And if they are turning to Ukip in uncertainty, being castigated as stupid for doing so is a sure fire way of convincing them they are making the right choice. So, go on, Labour, go on Conservative, go on, Lib Dems, you carry on bashing and watch as your minions lift their heads up from your walls and simply walk away.

Thursday, 9 October 2014

None so blind

A spitty little twitter spat the other night, between me and an out-and-proud lefty shouting about her credentials of ‘having spent 25 years of higher education in politics’ got me thinking. As usual, the clash was brought about by the failure, once again, of a self-proclaimed political expert to grasp what is bleeding obvious to anybody with a proper job and both feet on the ground.

Irony blinkers firmly fixed and utterly incapable of seeing those all around them making ‘the sign of the wanker’ in their direction, your lefty political theorist merrily ploughs straight ahead and tells you what’s good for you. How you should behave, what you should earn, who you should positively discriminate in favour of and what kind of weather is in your best interests; all blind to the realities of what drives humans to make it from one day to the next.

It’s as if Karl-never-had-a-job-in-his-life-Marx himself invented politics; virtually all concerted political movements are leftist in nature and on go the theorists, dreaming up ways of convincing themselves there will genuinely be a utopian future where we all put nurture before nature; if only they could stop the little people from indulging in original thought and individual action. Meanwhile, those on what is disparagingly referred to as ‘the far right’ are too busy making a living and fending for themselves to have the luxury of envy of what others possess; and as a result they tend to have far clearer understanding of the hopes and fears of ordinary workers.

John Humphrys said on the Today programme that the problem of immigration is a right wing issue, when in fact it is the very large, low-paid, unskilled sector of the work force who are most exercised and most disadvantaged by it. Those who welcome mass immigration are those who gain from it – a small and privileged minority of British society – or those who are blind to its downsides. Behind the heavy blinds of the lofty ivory towers, Ed Miliband’s policy unit no more understands the masses it believes it fights for than a sheep understands the workings of the ticks living off its blood.


Time after time the left-wing ‘thinkers’ do their thinking on behalf of the hoi polloi without ever actually consulting those same beleaguered legions, whose most likely reaction, post incomprehension, would be to tell them to do one. Today, Clacton’s forgotten denizens will, for good or ill, reject the traditional parties, just t see if there might be a better way. Will they also roar in Heywood and Middleton. Interesting times, folks…