What’s the point?

There’s a whole lot of disingenuity going on down Media Meadows at the moment. Behind the closed doors of cosy cul-de-sacs heartbroken Remainers are consoling each other and offering mutual support by coining delicious little ditties to spread dissent. Listen to the Today programme early in the morning on Radio 4 and you’ll hear such introductions as “despite Brexit” such-and-such an index is back to its pre-June level. Or trade is bouncing back after the “post-Brexit shock”. And just to be absolutely sure that the message gets through any such recoveries are presented as temporary: “we mustn’t read too much into what looks like good news” and “time will tell if this growth is sustainable”... and on it goes.

Of course, any dips in trade, currency values, prices, wages etc are largely as a result of business holding its breath and holding back decisions because of the hell-fury, painful-death scenarios woven by Project Fear in the run-up to the referendum. And any reversion to normality is portrayed as valiantly fighting back against the damage done by the unthinkably stupid will of ignorant, old, racist people who killed the United Kingdom. This is true because this shining example of the righteous young says so.  

With the exception of the self-fulfilling prophecy of the “We’re going to crash! We’re going to crash! Oh god, we’re going to crash!” as the establishment let go of the controls and prayed in the aisles little of any consequence has yet to happen and independence offers all sorts of opportunities as yet unrealised. Had it not been for the vote, July would have been glossed over as a dip and the bounce greeted unequivocally good news. But of course that does nothing to scare the little people.

On PM they have a new regular segment called Brexit Street. Did they choose a middle of the road suburb with educated voices for and against? Did they pick an area with a positive vision for the future, now getting to grips despite originally being against? No, they chose Thornaby, a deprived, northern post-industrial town in Teesside where harsh-on-the-cultured-southern-ear northern accents assault the delicate Islingtonite sensibilities. Hearing those tones up close they would instinctively flinch and give up their  iPhone. Further, the programme features almost exclusively those who play up to the ignorant, racist Neanderthal stereotype who voted against civilisation.

And then they press government and Theresa May in whose hands lie our fate: “But what does Brexit look like, eh?” they say, shoving the microphone aggressively into the faces of any pro-Brexit figures who dare to surface. “Where’s the £350million a week for the NHS, eh? Eh?” So yesterday’s apparent volte-face on the much-lauded ‘points based immigration system’ was greeted with derision and malicious glee by the Euro-rati. Another failed pledge, they say, ignoring the fact that the Leave campaign as not conducted by anyone single party with the power to unilaterally enact change. But let’s look at this one, burning issue.

Australia of course, imposes conditions and quotas on top of the points, so even if you stack up – age, health, qualifications, skill set, criminal record (lack of, ironically) etc – there is no guarantee of a place unless there is...an actual place and you behave yourself. But what Britain needs, apparently, is something very different, according to Mrs May; we can’t be using any off-the-shelf remedies. 

Oh no, what Britain needs is an entirely different procedure, which assesses applicants against a number of criteria, say: age, health, qualifications, skill set, criminal record (lack of) etc. Complement that with further controls regarding eligibility to stay on and access to public services, benefits and so on and add, say, a cap on numbers and bingo, you have a brand new method, completely different from anything else in the world. A non-Australian-style, criteria-based pointless 'process'. Oh yes; we invented practically everything else, let's get started on a new design for the wheel...

Once upon a time...

It seemed to start in the Blair era, but it was prevalent long before then, that politics had to tell a simple story. And furthermore, in the interests of the now overused phrase ‘joined-up government’ everybody had to have a role in that story. In what came to be called ‘the narrative’ you were goodie or baddie, villain or fool and once cast you were destined to play your part until you were written out of the show. If you were lucky you got a nice, juicy departure and your name lived on, but more often than not you quietly exited, stage left and were never heard from again.

The script of the political soap opera is thinly drawn because the audience isn’t interested in layers, in depth, in subtle nuance of character. We like our players, pantomime-style, to be little more than two-dimensional; it’s much easier to understand them that way. While we may enjoy a taut, twisting plot in a ninety-minute movie, watching the good guy become the bad guy then switch back for the goodbye, such willing suspension of disbelief isn’t sustainable for long periods outside of cinema. On the outside we want the simplicity of knowing when to boo and when to clap.

Enter the junior doctors. Clearly the good guys; they bounded on stage accompanied by the theme music that said they’re on our side. Clever people, we thought, far too intelligent to be manipulated; they will only be striking because the government is cruel and stupid. Up went the cheers, discussions were held and an agreement entered into; spit, shake hands – don’t forget the anti-bacterial scrub – curtain. But wait, what’s this? They’re striking again? Oh no, we’re a simple audience and we thought we’d already seen this bit. Jeremy Hunt was the bad guy and we booed him off stage. Now we aren’t sure whose side to be on.

Doctors are supposed to be bastions of intelligence and thus, we would like to think, common sense. Everybody, left and right, should be on their side for they only speak truth, surely? But now we are watching an entirely different, yet still recognisable screenplay, the one where the oh-so-clever people are being manipulated by shadowy Marxist conspirators... or are we? In the absence of all the facts, we have to rely on the deeper narratives that have been embedded for years. Socialism good, Conservatism bad... or the other way around. It’s like watching a film where you suddenly realise you haven’t been paying close enough attention so now, whichever way it ends, you’re not going to be satisfied.

In the wider population people generally rub along and make do with what they’ve got. Their desire for colour – for most lives are insufferably drab – is fulfilled by fiction. It is little wonder then, that for most people political engagement is difficult. You have to concentrate, watch, listen and follow the arguments. But when your reward for doing all that is to realise that we are no further on and nobody is listening to you anyway, it is little wonder that most people switch off and watch Bake Off instead.

Things are actually going quite well right now. We have a new Prime Minister who seems to have the weight, the heft for the job. Unemployment is low, as are expectations, so there is little need for unrest. And yet unrest is what we’ve got. Andrew Marr’s newspaper round up yesterday seemed to be a concerted effort to find ways to attack Theresa May instead of the bastion of impartiality we have come to expect from the national broadcaster. (I jest) Why are so many people on the left so very pissed off when there is so little substance to their complaint?

It’s that bloody narrative again, isn’t it? Let’s see, despite little in the way of actual evidence their story tells of the systematic oppression of gays, disabled, trans, immigrants, fathers, mothers, students, nurses, doctors, etc, etc, etc. This is what oppositions do and the left are the eternal opposition in Britain. Sod working for the common good, instead they stir up malcontent; rejected again and again by the electorate and in the absence of any chance of gaining power the sole purpose of the political left  seems to be to piss on everybody else’s chips. And in the end it’s an attractive narrative, to play the downtrodden underdog, so attractive that even supposedly intelligent people are drawn into it.

It’s hardly a plot for the future though is it? The left wing narrative plays to a sense of despair, something which all of us have experienced at some time. But it’s not enough to despair and then get over it, succeed and move on; the beast needs feeding and the fodder is any group whose situation can be portrayed as disadvantaged. It has long been said that the left practise the politics of envy; a green-eyed monster preying on the vulnerable. So, remind me, which is the nasty party now?

Slippery...

The March for Europe was fundamentally dishonest as nobody has suggested that Britain should leave Europe in the first place. That might be a tad problematic anyway as we ‘left’ around nine thousand years ago and with climate bleaters warning of ever-rising sea levels it is unlikely we are going to re-dock any time soon. That small point made, back to the matter in hand. No matter what Izzard, Tatchell, Jones and their juvenile army of the easily-led tell you, Britain will continue to have engagements with the European continent as it has throughout recorded history. As neighbours though, not as cohabitants.

The only thing we are planning on leaving is a discredited and costly political union which has brought ruin on some countries and now threatens, through sheer impotence, to allow itself to be invaded and subjugated by the unstoppable force of islamic immigration. I say ‘unstoppable’ knowing full well that it could be stopped, but it won’t be; somewhere in that EU mind-set is a white-European-hating kernel of defeatism in the guise of ‘progress’.

Maybe someday, long in the future, humanity will be integrated in a global network of equality, where everybody loves everybody else, all our customs and habits are regularised and a benign system of governance works for everybody. When that day comes... what am I saying, that day will never come. Even within just the European continent the disparities between regions are enough to cause tensions, hell even within the British Isles we still live with the threat of a resurgent IRA. To think we could simply dissolve borders and all live happily ever after was a ludicrous and naïve dream.

If you want just one example of how human behaviour fails to meet the ideal that progressives seem to believe they can engineer, look no further than Keith Vaz. Dear Keith, ‘untouchable’ Vaz has rarely been out of the news and as a self-publicist he has managed to survive an astonishing number of scuffles. But as Chairman of the Home Affairs Select Committee he may soon come under the scrutiny of the Committee on Standards in Public Life (or as I just mistyped that ‘Pubic Lice’).

In1995 this committee established The Seven Principles of Public Life, also known as the "Nolan principles". Let’s see how jolly old Keith Vaz stacks up against these criteria for the behaviour of Holders of Public Office

• Selflessness – act solely in terms of the public interest.
• Integrity – not place themselves under [obligation] that might seek to influence them...
• Objectivity – In carrying out [business] holders should make choices on merit.
• Accountability – accountable for their decisions and actions to the public and must submit themselves to whatever scrutiny is appropriate to their office.
• Openness – should be as open as possible about all the decisions and actions they take.
• Honesty –  a duty to declare any private interests relating to their public duties and to take steps to resolve any conflicts arising in a way that protects the public interest.
• Leadership – promote and support these principles by leadership and example.

 It’s a high bar and one you could say sorely tests the frailty of human nature, but surely our leaders are up to the challenge? Sadly, it appears not. Over and over again the pattern of behaviour for some people in high office is the same; power corrupts, but also gives the impression of invulnerability. If a public figure of such visibility and regular scrutiny as Keith Vazeline can so easily hide for so long, how likely is it that the unknown ‘leaders’ of the European Union are ordaining restraint for us that they are unable to  commit to themselves.

Keith Vazeline... losing again.

One of the oddest things about the March for Europe bunch is that they would be the first to come to the defence of people like Vaz no doubt explaining his furtive behaviour as necessary given the amount of hate they see in society. Yet at the same time these are the usual suspects who protest about the globalisation of  business and the secrecy of government and imagine a cabal of high-powered world leaders pulling all the strings. Why in the face of that they would vote for supranational governance is a mystery as deep as why a feminist would defend islam. But hey, if you want to align with Slippery Keith's stance on the EU please feel free to say so.

Doctor, doctor!

They won’t let it lie. Tomorrow is the Twat Parade; the Malcontents’ March for Europe. Arch idiot and old woman impersonator, Eddie Izzard, along with a company of hand-wringing useful idiots will attempt, by the power of looking childish, chanting and making whiny speeches, to turn the clock back. These Little Europeans want to return to the bad old days of Communist Russia, an imagined former golden time and are not afraid to resort to narrow-minded bigotry to get their way. They will call old, white, British people Nazis and wish them harm, in order to prove just how enlightened, caring, inclusive and non-racist they are.

Meanwhile, to add butt-hurt to their suffering, the pound has risen in value and manufacturing is booming, at least relatively, as it is shown that some 71% of economists got the Brexit effect forecast completely wrong. The rest merely got it mostly wrong because here’s the thing; when it comes to economics, nobody knows anything of the future. The alchemy of economic forecasting is a propaganda tool used to interpret the past in ways which justify current policies... and we’re getting wise to it.

And now the junior doctors are going on strike as well. I picture picket lines of small boys and girls wearing scrubs far too big for them and tripping up over their stethoscopes as they lisp about how everything is just not fair and stamp their tiny feet. But, for the general, tax-paying public – those who don’t worship daily at the altar of the NHS and unquestioningly believe every word the high priests utter – the doctors are starting to look more like the Remainers which most of them probably are; a deal is on the table, it’s not a bad one, suck it up.

One day, when there’s a morning-after pill to cure your liver following alcohol abuse and smoking no longer causes lung cancer or gene therapy is daily finding cheap remedies for every defect, junior doctors may look back on this contract as their own golden days. For far too long doctors have held a certain power over us, with their high and mighty ‘I had to study for twenty-seven years before I turned thirty to get where I am today’ attitude, as if they held the power of life or death over us. If you think I’m being unfair then you haven’t had the relationship with the medical profession that I have.

For instance I went to the doctor only last week. He was new at the surgery so in an effort to judge his character I asked him if he had ever laughed at a patient. He seemed shocked and assured me that he certainly had not. I asked again; had he ever laughed directly in a patients face? He put on his most sincere expression and gravely reasserted that no such lack of professionalism had ever occurred. I have to say I was grudgingly convinced at which point I agreed to show him my problem and promptly dropped my trousers. The bastard just laughed and laughed and laughed.

Now, I haven’t got the biggest dick in the world, I’ll grant you that, but this doctor was in tears looking at it. He looked away and gritted his teeth but still he couldn’t stifle the laughter. Yes, it was only about the size of a triple-A battery but come on, you expect a certain decorum. I grabbed him by the shoulder, shook him and told him to pull himself together.

You seem to be a little dehydrated...

Eventually the convulsions eased and he put on his best straight face as he asked, between giggles, what the problem was. I waited until he had composed himself and adopted his best consulting expression. His shoulders still heaved a little, but I am a patient man, in more ways than one. Finally, he seemed to be receptive to a serious medical discussion. “Well, doctor,” I said, a little annoyed that it wasn’t obvious, “It’s swollen.”

Representing Nobody

When, in 1998, I told a disbelieving Australian backpacker that the UK would not join the Euro he mocked. “What?” he said, “The single European currency that’s happening next year?” We were in the USA at the time and a small crowd of ‘Mercans gathered as we debated the point. Yep, I said and expounded my belief that while it might work for some unknown country called Europe, it would never be to British tastes. He argued that it would be just like the dollar in the fifty United States. I argued that Europe was a long, long way from being a single country with a single constitution, shared struggle, traditions and political values. He was young, so he didn’t really grasp why we couldn’t, you know, like, come together, dude.

So imagine my utter lack of sympathy for the plight of the Eurozone today... Now I’m not claiming seer-like powers of prophecy but I knew a bad idea when I saw it. I admit my aversion probably had more to do with being English – avowedly not European - than having any deep economic insight, but I felt that was enough and besides, my forecast proved to be the equal of - better than - any economist on earth. And so here we are today; me with a strengthened confidence in my original convictions, Europe, mostly fucked. I try not to laugh, but you know, up yours Delors and all that.

Another fabulous ideal of the EU was of course the free movement of people and some deaf, dumb and blind kids still fly the flag for the Schengen zone. Hey, I’m all for treaty partners having agreements which make border checks more perfunctory and allow employment wherever you may find it, but once again the disparity of the member states has created unnecessary turmoil. As I retweeted yesterday, courtesy of @OffencePolice, “If British businesses need foreign workers, they can make the case for visas. If the case is ‘We want to pay staff less’, they can piss off.” 

The result has been a labour drain from poorer EU countries to richer ones, making it impossible for those poor states to retain talent and they now largely rely on the charity of the rich states whose taxpayers resent them for doing so. And of course, the formerly working poor of the rich states are being parked on benefits as business prefers to exploit utilise cheaper and more compliant/grateful employees.  As for the absurd notion that legions of low-paid, low socially-involved migrant workers will somehow do anything more than fuel the inevitably catastrophic model of ever greater consumerism, long warned against by people like Aldous Huxley, that dream, too is coming unstuck very rapidly indeed, isn’t it, Mrs Merkel? 

Of course, once into Europe – that great big soft touch with the flimsiest of borders between it and Africa – migrants from anywhere in the world can feast on the hard-won riches of the west without ever making any contribution other than by fouling the shallow end of the gene pool and causing mayhem. And then there’s that Calais thing. Anna Soubry may believe – as she stated yesterday - that we didn’t have a positive debate about immigration, but, given that a majority of her own constituents disagree, maybe they already had that debate and she just wasn’t listening.

It's a jungle out there...

And that, in a nutshell is it isn’t it? Politicians not listening. In a representative democracy we don’t want or need a referendum on every issue; we elect our representatives and then we expect them to actually represent us and not just assume that after the vote we will leave them to govern in a vacuum for five years. But since John Major we haven’t had representative government but assumptive government. Tim Farron can whinge all he wants about Brexit showing us up as fools but his party could be said to be the most representative of them all at  the moment in that virtually nobody gives them the time of day. If he can figure out why that is - and that is a pretty long shot - he may be in with a chance of understanding why nobody gives a toss what he thinks.