Bullish

Angela Merkel has once again waded into the Brexit business with what she imagines are hope-dashing remarks designed to wound, to intimidate, to threaten and generally to weaken Britain’s resolve to leave the EU. All around her, the fawning sycophants, the unter-nations, simper and occasionally click their heels together, reflexively muttering ‘Mein Führer’ as they feel they must; the instincts of the Teutons and their quislings are never far from the surface. Did you hear about the new German-Chinese restaurant? The food is great, but an hour later, you're hungry for power.

Anyway, Frau Merkel is no stranger to holding power over others. As a leading light in the Free German Youth, the junior wing of East Germany’s ruling Socialist Unity Party a young Angela Kasner quickly grew to learn what it felt like to be in charge. In those straitened times, back during the cold war, rationing was a fact of daily life and only the party faithful were guaranteed easy access to education, the arts and even sausages.

One cold morning in the party canteen the absence of sausages for breakfast caused some consternation and so Angela rallied her cohort to scour the town for the emblematic meat stuff of the glorious German Democratic Republic. In pairs they toured the butcher’s shops in search of snorkers. To her annoyance, Angela’s party found a disgracefully locked door at one shop and hammered on it with her fists, demanding the owner come out. “Go away!” came a voice from the other side as a sleep-worn face appeared at the window. Angela, undeterred, thrust her party membership card at the face.

A moment later the door opened and a suitably shamefaced butcher allowed them access. “You are allowed two sausages each” he said, at which Angela set her face and asked “Do you realise who you are talking to?” The man slumped, opened up his cold store and watched in misery as the youngsters took as many as they wanted. As they left Angela said “Thank you, comrade, the party will reimburse you directly.” They both knew this was a lie.

Next, eggs. Once again the raiding party set out and found a grocer’s store just opening for the day. Under the threadbare awning a few boxes, meagrely stocked with wilting cabbages and flaccid turnips bespoke hard times. “We want a dozen eggs!” demanded the troop at which the shopkeeper protested he had but four and indicated said number nestled in a large straw-lined box. Once again, out came the card and out came the hoarded eggs. Breakfast was looking more assured by the minute.

“But wait,” said a young acolyte as they were headed back to barracks, “have we milk for our coffee?” They turned and strode out to the edge of town where the dairy farm was situated. The farmer was repairing a fence, his rosy wind-battered cheeks glowing in the brisk morning air. “Good morning, comrade” Angela declared, we have come for milk. With that she opened the gate to the farmer’s protestation “You can’t go in there!” he yelled. “Oh no?” said Angela “do you see this card?” The card was waved in his face at which the farmer gave in, shrugged and waved her on.

A few minutes later a scream was heard, along with a blood-curdling bellow. In the middle of the field a frantic Angela was running as fast as her legs would carry her, closely pursued by a large, angry bull. The other cadets gasped and froze in fright and impotence, but the farmer ran over to the fence and waved his arms to attract her attention. Then he cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled “Your card! Show him your card!”

Gina Corbyn

Gina Miller, whose attempt to thwart Brexit by delaying and frustrating the invocation of Article 50 has not yet produced her desired effect, is now heading what she calls a ‘grass roots’ movement to thwart it via tactical voting. Silly cow; does she not realise that those who finally got the chance to express a long and deeply held ambition to extricate ourselves from the  grasp of that socialist wet dream can and will vote just as tactically. Thanks though, Gina, for reminding us that the vested global interests against whom we rebelled have not accepted the verdict. Be sure to give George Soros and Richard Branson our best, now.

As if on cue, Jeremy Corbyn, for decades a staunch UK separatist and now cornered by party policy into pretending he meant the opposite for all those years, appears to be out on manoeuvres himself. In PMQs the mutton-headed mugwump was able easily to disguise his alliance with Brexiteers by railing against the perceived injustices of Tory rule, an act he has perfected over many years from his Islington stronghold. He has even got his own party fooled, but as far as I can see he appears to have promised to give everybody whatever they want and do it by picking the pockets of everybody else.

While Ms Miller has become the publicly recognised and oft-reviled face of Remain – surely the proper job of remoan MPs - Jeremy is busily bringing the Labour Party into disrepute by the time-honoured method of blurting out unrealistic promises he can’t possibly keep. And even Labour stalwarts are reeling at the audacity of pronouncing plans to spend the meagre sums he might raise from increasing taxes on ‘the rich’ (e.g. anybody with a job paying above minimum wage) ten, eleven, twelve times over, by some estimates.  The Jerry and Gina show couldn’t be funnier; he reminding us how ridiculous big state socialism is and she campaigning to preserve big state socialism.

For the EU is just an extended version of the policies Corbyn and his cabal espouse – not, as he says and no doubt believes, working for the many but actually just working for the few; the very charge he lays at Tory feet. Except the Tory ‘few’ are those who actually create the wealth this country enjoys and could spend better were it not for Corbyn’s few, who are actually a many for whom indolence and squalor, moral turpitude, wanton breeding and the production of feral kids to swell the prison populations is almost a given

Jeremy’s few couldn’t care less about politics and parties as long as they can afford booze and fags. Why would they want to pull themselves up and enter the massed ranks of workers when they see working and paying tax on the proceeds as a game for mugs? No society prospers on charity, but they don’t see undeserved welfare as the charity it is; after all, they’re entitled, right? Labour isn’t working – remember that? Well now Labour isn’t thinking, listening or giving a damn either; ring any bells across the channel?

Gina Corbyn... is this what you want?

So go ahead Jezza and Gina, do us a solid and keep on reminding us why we voted against you. Keep on demonstrating how saying ‘democracy’ then acting like autocrats is the very opposite of democratic freedoms. Bang that drum for all you are worth; enough of that noise might eventually drive your supporters to wake up. Gina Miller told a news programme that “This election is a second referendum." Excellent. Let’s hope she remembers that when the results come in.

The Bell Jar

Trapped inside a self-imposed prison from which you can see only what of the world is immediately outside can give you the illusion that you know what is going on. And if all you hear is your own words, your own suspicions, bouncing back to you it would be hardly surprising if you began to believe your own theories. Political movements thrive on this echo-chamber effect as their acolytes hear and see only what they want to see and hear. This is how cults operate.

Labour’s supposed ‘grass roots’ campaigning group, Momentum (Surely ‘Inertia’ would be more apt?) is currently trying to whip up a groundswell of opinion that defies logic. In this strange world, instead of seeing the vast majority of the population getting on with things and looking out for themselves, as they surely must, the see a forbidden forest of darkness and squalor and unbearable cruelty. And because they each tell themselves the same story it is reinforced with every hearing.

The other day somebody tweeted, in outrage, a photograph of a poster advertising a private GP service. Look, they said, proof! Proof that the Tories are selling off the NHS! When challenged and when it was pointed out that this as actually of some benefit to the NHS, allowing those who had already paid for the NHS through their taxes to pay again for consultation and treatment, the tweeter simply didn’t hear it. The only thing they heard was their own echoed voice, yes, here is the evidence.

The same happens with schools, transport and many other publicly funded services; the higher earners not only pay for all of it (nobody on UK median wage contributes even close to the monetary benefit they gain) but they then pay again to go private. And then they are castigated by the left for not paying their ‘fair share’. This, of course, is absolutely true, higher rate taxpayers pay far more than their fair share and if they truly held any power they could easily choose not to. But no sayeth the glass-house incumbents, the Tories only work for the ‘rich’, recently defined by John McDonnell as anybody on over £75k.

But any logic is ignored by Momentum and their camp followers as they continue to bang the drum for class war against the Conservatives and drive that red wedge through society. A series of nested tweets has been doing the rounds:

·         As a teacher it is my duty to inform the public that after 7 Tory years schools are on their knees. Your child's education is at stake.

·         As a nurse it is my duty to inform the public that after 7 Tory years the NHS has been decimated. You and your children's health is at risk

·         As a firefighter, it is my duty to inform the public that after 7 Tory years, the UK fire service has been decimated. You are now less safe.

Etc, etc and on and on and some people are too dim to actually look around them.

Profile of a Labour voter in 2017...

Outside that bell jar not a single baby’s head has been stamped on by a Tory jackboot. Not one person in possession of their sanity has been forced to eat their young to survive. No gassing, no police state, no disappearances...  The world goes on, doing what it does and government - any flavour - does its best against the odds to facilitate it. Those who thrive are those who try, not those who sit and wail and wait for somebody else to fix their poor choices. You want a future for your children? Break the glass.

Voting, right?

The airwaves are alight with alarm as influencers of opinion try to peddle an imaginary resurgence of nasty, xenophobic, right-wing ‘populism’. The language of broadcast media paints right-of-centre ideals - independence, self-determination, thrift, small-c-conservatism, decency, tolerance and sober patriotism – as being spawned from a hatred of some out-group or other. But the left-wing principles of authoritarian government, big state interference in the minutiae of everyday life and unsustainable profligacy in public spending are given a free pass as the desirable status quo.

Following round one of the French presidential elections, Macron is hailed as a ‘centrist’ while Marine Le Pen is vilified as being ‘far-right’ when in fact she actually represents a huge proportion of the electorate in mistrusting the ambitions and means of globalist socialism. If you want extreme politics you need look no further than the unbelievably naïve, schoolboy Marxist politics of the British left wing whose fantasies, as espoused by Corbyn, McDonnell, Abbott, Farron, Lucas et al, are becoming more unhinged and intemperate with each passing day.

But, of course, the easy passing of the magic wand over all your problems is far more appealing than the dull, grey truth that your life is your business and it’s up to you to make something of it. Who wants to hear that it’s uphill all the way when there is an alternative narrative that suggests you can coast your way through life and let somebody else ensure your passage is unimpeded? Ask your children what they would prefer; sitting in rows, paying attention and putting in real effort to learn, or playing with the glittering toys of educational technology and supposedly absorbing knowledge without breaking a sweat.

We define adulthood as the point at which we accept responsibility. In the UK this is nominally at eighteen but the behaviour of many supposed adults gives the lie to that arbitrary designation; those calling for votes for sixteen-year olds, for instance. Because, they say, they will have to live with those decisions for the rest of their lives. Firstly, that is utterly ridiculous because the opportunity to change our government comes every five years; even if you’re only 13 this June you will have the opportunity to have your say at the next general election... if you can remember then what your current opinion is.

But, but, but, they say, at sixteen you can join the army, or get married. Yes you can, with the permission of your parents. But, they splutter, if you are considered responsible enough to carry a gun, or become a parent... Woah there, boy, in the forces you follow orders and who in their right mind would encourage breeding before you have anything to offer your child, before you have experienced anything of life? And besides, the oft-repeated advice ‘marry in haste, repent at leisure’ didn’t spring from thin air. The argument that the vote of 16-year olds is as valid as 86-year olds could only possibly come from a 16-year old... or somebody who wants their uninformed mandate.

Those who want to milk the young for their consent haven’t really thought it through have they? Where would you be now if you had been forced to live your life according to your world view as a child? The simple fact of human longevity means that, barring some bizarre explosion in fertility rates, there will always be more ‘old’ people than there will be under-twenties. John Major whined about the tyranny of the majority; would he prefer the tyranny of the juvenile minority instead? Give young people the vote? You must think we were born yesterday...

Have you seen the little piggies?

“Now, class, remember...” The learning facilitator turns to indicate two display boards at the nominal front of the young people’s learning collective. The various sub-committees of pupils, of mixed age, ability and gender identity, disengaged from their collaborations to gaze at the images. Bordered by a brave, caring, red glow, the party display showed moving images of happy, diverse communities engaged in thrilling cooperative ventures, assisting the halt and lame, collecting for charity and building a better world to the stirring music approved by the school board. They all bore the same fixed smiles that now played on the shining faces of the Junior Learners as they watched, wide-eyed and alert.

“And now...” The warm glow faded as the facilitator switched on the second display. A harsh, cold, deathly light illuminated static, monochrome scenes of an ancient and unlovely world. A world where miserable, old white people trudged through mud, pushing carts laden with broken human bodies. A world of torture and pain, of poverty and cruel injustice. A world of child labour, lives of drudge and early demise from back-breaking work and lack of medicines. The watching learners began to sob and hug each other, feeling the pain of their forebears in that lost world, filling with overwhelming empathy for the wronged and the dead.

St Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, supposedly said “Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man.” Whether he did or not, the principle is sound enough. What children experience in their early years can become a cross they bear forever. Catholic guilt, islamic submission... white self-loathing. A more enlightened view is that children should not be exposed to simplistic indoctrination and especially not by those charged with their education. Which brings us to that Labour party political broadcast.

Nobody is suggesting that primary school teachers bring their red, red politics into the classroom but then, how could they not? Few of us are capable of completely concealing our political allegiances – only career politicians can manage to do that – but teachers are in a unique position to influence future generations. This ridiculous broadcast suggests that Labour sees nothing wrong in doing exactly that. They also want the voting age to be lowered to sixteen or seventeen; can you see the connection, children?

Meanwhile, the real leader of the Labour Party, Len McCluskey, has been celebrating his re-election to master of the party purse strings by partying at a popular venue where champagne at £50 a bottle flowed pretty freely. George Orwell believed in democratic socialism and was profoundly concerned about social justice, but he was not uncritical of left-wing movements and his two best-known works challenged the very direction of travel of the current-day Labour Party. Animal Farm concludes: “The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.” Some things never change.