Spring Fever

The spring has sprung, the grass is riz, etc. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life and all that. Actually, although we are into the first spring month, March, official spring doesn’t being in the UK until the 20^th this year. That gives the weather less than three weeks to get its act together, not that the daffodils seem to care. The spring blossoms are pushing ahead with business as usual and no matter how many lawns the climate crazies want to ruin, nature will take its course anyway.

It’s all so exhausting, this climate change malarkey, and it’s somewhat perplexing that the world’s governments seem to be happy to let the most annoying population sector take the lead. I mean, come on, you’re taking your cues from children? The members of Extinction Rebellion may be a little older but no more mature, hailing, as is so often the case, from that peculiar proportion of the comfortable middle classes who swallow all the hippy aphorisms whole.

Whichever group you despise the most is irrelevant; they all preach an unwholesome message of doom. Greta Thunderclap Newman thinks the world is on fire; she should have been looking out of my window for the last six months where it has barely stopped raining. And the XR lot want us to return to a pre-energy age where they can try out their weird brand of communism. Communism of course, involves hardship, starvation, torture and sans electricity threatens to bring death by boredom. Why did she die? She just wanted to.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? I mean, we’re going to die anyway, so why begin now? If the human race is going to become extinct and with it the rest of the planet, why not go out in a blaze of glory, rather than cowering like helpless wimps as the flames lick towards us and the famines take us? Why not buy the most luxurious car you can afford and swig Champagne as you burn up the country roads at fifteen miles to the gallon on your hedonistic way to whatever takes your fancy?

The preachers see only horror and squalor and, fetishists as they are, they sound as if they welcome it. Ten years to save the planet… again? Because, see, even if we are headed to hell in a handcart it’s not happening in ten years, nor even a hundred. Humans will adapt and survive or, yes, we may actually die out. But not in the immediate future. Think of the children? Oh, please, they will have their own children and grandchildren and on and on because they will find a way. It’s what we do.

And so what if it actually does come to pass in a few hundred or a few thousand years? Why limit the life chances of all those future generations because we were too frit to live our own? And in any case, if you like your conspiracy theories extra gloomy, the corona virus is going to get you soon. So, I say ignore XR, tell Greta to get to fuck and carry on regardless. Enjoy your life, what’s left of it, because you only have the one. If the Earth is on fire it is likely due to all the hot air spouted by juvenile climate alarmists. My message to those future generations? Future generations can suck my dick.

The New Black

The world of style is always on the lookout for the next big thing, the next must-have accessory and now, at last, we can reveal the new autumn collection. Forget your pashmina, your Ugg boots, your iPhone and follow the government’s lead. This season’s flauntable, never-leave-home-without-it, everybody-else-has-one, indispensable accoutrement is a veritable offering to the gods of high fashion and it costs you nothing. Get your mental illness today – the government will even chip in to help!

So versatile, your very own mental disorder can be unique to you, or it can be shared with a multitude. Truly a condition to cherish and one size really does fit all. All you have to do to qualify is to say you do! It is so easy. For instance, right now, the climate dread campaigners of Extinction Rebellion are doing their bit to instil fear in young people everywhere. In fact, so effective are they that many mature people, who should have developed a natural immunity, have also been infected with it.

Planetary hysteria comes with a package of related issues such as hatred of your parents, hatred of capitalism and a hatred of anything other than yourself who you deem to be responsible; because the great thing about being a flake is that it is never your fault! At last, a crime with no perpetrator; everybody is a victim and anybody daring to challenge your distress is a troll, a hater and – yeah, if you like – a fascist.

Of course, one day you will want to grow up and this should not be treated as a crime. There may not be help groups or charities set up to achieve this but usually it happens organically. You wake up one day and realise that it really isn’t up to anybody else to give your life meaning. All that balled-up anger, the existential angst, the bitter fury against a system designed specifically to make you suffer, just fades away once you face up to reality. But hey, let the youngsters have their fun; let them wallow a while in their utter righteousness. After all, what harm can it do?

Well, here’s the serious bit. A recent report says that there has been an epidemic of children who opted for gender reassignment wishing to reverse that decision. This is no cheerful vindication for those of us who scoffed from the sidelines, because this must be truly distressing to those it affects. But why has it come about? It has taken centuries, millennia, to establish human society and in just a few decades it appears to be crumbling. Throughout the developed – woke – world a few radicals have created chaos by a sustained and quite deliberate attack on the settled order.

We should be vigorously resisting the changes that cause our society to fracture. Instead of allowing oppressive, angry minorities to set the agenda we ought to stick to our guns. Rather than react to every demand for funding, for recognition, for ‘a voice’ we should be considering what is normal and treating what is abnormal in an appropriate manner. Real mental illness should be treated; abuse of tolerance should be deterred. And all attempts to create mass hysteria should be resisted.

  

Western governance - the lunatics really are in charge.

But what are western governments doing? The same thing they are doing with everything; giving in to every insignificant demand and in the process increasing that demand. Rather than effectively promoting mental illness they should be restoring society to some recognisable order. Instead of kow-towing to every cry for funding, for recognition, for special treatment they should be setting the agenda and making it stick. Put the security, welfare, health and order of society as a whole first and all the rest may well sort itself out. Trying to fix every little aberration is utter madness.

The way we are...

An article in the Guardian on the new-age phenomenon of Climate Fear raised the question about the morality of bringing a child into a doomed world. Well, let’s face it, snowflakes, we’re all doomed anyway, so another millennium of human misery isn’t going to amount to  hill of beans. As a basic assumption the author had this to say: “The decision whether or not to have a child is one of the bigger ones a person will make in life – often the biggest.” Ah, me, the delusions of the Guardianistas. Not only is this incorrect, it defies simple human nature, which is not to think at all about such trivial matters.

For many in this blighted land, any decision over whether to have children is less important than whether or not to order a second KFC bargain bucket. At least insofar as the bucket decision will be considered before the fact, not mulled over afterwards. Humans, as has been observed many times, are fundamentally poor at making big decisions. Small ones, yes – some will agonise for weeks over a frivolous purchase – but big ones, such as what to do with one’s life, or whether to create another, just because you can, are often the result of simple inertia, a failure to resist the gravity of events around you.

Fortune favours the brave they say, but one man’s courageous stunt is another man’s chip wrapper, which mention of takeaway food cues up nicely this story about airborne curry. This was an obvious April Fool’s Day hoax, except it dates from last November. The owner of a Milton Keynes curry restaurant wants to get a licence for drone-delivered dupiaza. This is a classic example of how human planning so often ignores human nature. Imagine, if you will, a low-hovering, curry-toting quadcopter coming within range of the arsenal available on the average estate where much of this mid-air madras may be headed. Air pistols, rifles, shotguns, catapults or just a good old close-range stick - when the shami hits the fan, make sure you’re not wearing white.

Climate change? What WERE they thinking?

Of course, the likely culprits, not being the brightest, will probably be well within spatter range, but curry stains can be got rid of – unlike the future generations of scrupulously, spotless-minded, green-leaning kids born to Guardian columnists, indoctrinated from birth to view the human mission as the saving of a planet that couldn’t care less if you save it or not. At least the unplanned progeny of the lower orders is capable of having a laugh; as the Shameless character Frank Gallagher opined: “...the most vital necessity is this life is they know how to throw a PARTY! Heh heh... Scatter!”