MALICE IN WONDERLAND

Just look at that image. Just look at that shameless, opportunistic vapid vacuum of an excuse for a politician. Do you really hate the admittedly useless Boris Johnson so much that you’d want this unprincipled plastic weasel as your leader? Even if you were ignorant of the far-reaching crimes he committed in his past life as DPP and of the long-term damage he inflicted upon Law and policing in this country even before he’d set foot in Westminster, surely that image alone, an image of a man who seeks to be Prime Minister submitting to the demands of a divisive race-baiting cult because he values the transient currency of hash-tags so much, is worthy of your eternal contempt. It says everything you need to know about what a complete c*** he is. How could you ever respect someone so pussy-whipped by the Twitterati that you’d want him to move in to Downing Street? How could you ever vote for the party he leads ever again after seeing that image?

It’s amusing, yes – and one has to laugh now, really – how giddy so many on the left became when Sir Keir Starmer applied the plodding forensic techniques he’d honed as an unspectacular barrister when first facing Boris Johnson across the dispatch box during his inaugural PMQs. Ooh! He’s really putting Boris on the spot, isn’t he?! Excuse me, but isn’t that what the Leader of the Opposition is supposed to do? Perhaps Starmer’s desperate groupies were so excitable because they’d forgotten this fact. And perhaps it highlighted just how f***ing useless their beloved Jezza had been in the same spot when confronting three Prime Ministers throughout his argument-winning tenure as Labour leader.

As someone unpleasantly estranged from actual family members, my gradual estrangement from the left in this country has the same feel to it. It’s like having to abandon an old uncle I was once extremely fond of because he’s finally lost his marbles and has started spouting incoherent nonsensical bullshit that essentially has the same logic to it as 2+2=5. The left – like the right – always had its lunatic fringe, but it was traditionally the madwoman in the attic, the one kept locked away from polite society because everyone knew she would only frighten the horses and alienate the electorate. And then the lunatic fringe seized power in the coup d’état of 2015, instigating five years of disintegration that some foolishly imagined would cease with Corbyn’s retirement. That image of his charmless successor says everything you need to know about what has become of that forlorn hope.

A decade ago, I would’ve been regarded as a lefty liberal, whereas the goalposts have been shifted so far from the penalty area since then that I’m probably now viewed as a far-right fascist/Nazi/racist/misogynist/Transphobe/Islamophobe (apply where applicable), i.e. somewhere to the right of Oswald Mosley. But groupthink has never been my bag; I’ve always had what you might call herd immunity, spending most of my life fighting against being boxed, labelled or pigeonholed. I resisted safety in numbers at school by defiantly declaring I thought ‘Happy Days’ was shit when everyone in my class thought the Fonz was the personification of cool; I knew in my heart (and still do) that ‘Happy Days’ was shit, even if it meant I couldn’t be part of the crowd for going against the consensus. I remember during my 80s adolescence, many of my peers were Goths; I might have found some of those ladies-in-black attractive, but to embrace the lifestyle would have required blocking my ears to the latest catchy hit by Madonna or Prince – and I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice myself to something that necessitated that kind of personal dishonesty.

In many respects, I’m not entirely surprised the under-25s have embraced the lunatic fringe in its new role as the alternative to the Conservative Party. Loyal old lefties remain true to ‘the cause’ because they still cherish the struggle of the 1984 Miners’ Strike like previous generations on the left clung to the General Strike of 1926. Their blind faith is almost touching, however irrelevant. They remind me of the hardcore supporters of football clubs that are destined to spend their days in the lower leagues, forever dreaming of a giant-killing act in the FA Cup every time the Third Round comes around. But at least they did alright out of capitalism, for all that; not so their offspring. What has capitalism ever done for them? If they’d studied for a degree that meant something, they’d have graduated to a career that meant something and would own a home as a reward for their efforts. Capitalism has given them none of that, so why should we be surprised that they’ve rejected it completely and attached themselves to a series of dogmatic cults that simply want to destroy without actually offering a tangible replacement for the system?

The blame is entirely with the previous generation of western leaders that created this situation, yet their successors are doing nothing to repair the damage, being more concerned with signalling their virtue and appeasing the demographic their predecessors didn’t plan for because they never thought to wear a condom. Like a divorced parent attempting to buy their child’s favours, Sadiq Khan falling over himself to remove statues of philanthropists whose tenuous links to a global trade the British initiated the abolition of 200 years ago does so whilst simultaneously failing to address an epidemic of inner-city black-on-black murders. Then again, so does the organisation whose logo is becoming as depressingly ubiquitous in suburban Woke windows as the Unionist flag is in East Belfast.

For anyone pushed away from the left in the wake of the lunatic fringe’s power-grab, it’s a lonely world indeed. With the right as repugnant as ever, you’re stranded in the middle; and the middle is not a location occupied by those you’d want to spend much time in the company of. It’s like attending a party and being stuck in a corner with the kind of people who make you wonder if a social life is worth it. Tony Blair? The Lib Dems? Change UK? That’s the pathetic choice when it comes to centrist politics today. Even if you didn’t want to be a ‘centrist’ in the first place, finding yourself amongst that lot is as depressing as having to choose between a blue-haired SJW throwing a tantrum on one hand and Tommy bloody Robinson on the other. After a while, you find yourself withdrawing completely, yet any guilt over doing so doesn’t linger long when you watch the spineless capitulation of authorities to the minority and feel utterly powerless to prevent the madness from escalating further.

Recent events are something some of us have seen coming for a long time, mind. We saw the first stirrings during the Paedo-shaming hysteria of the post-Savile Yewtree era, and I wonder who was in charge of the CPS when that was all kicking-off? If only I could remember. Anyway, as insanely damaging as that witch-hunt was, it retrospectively feels more like a warm-up for the main event now. It was easy to dismiss some of the more extreme campus lunacy as just students letting off steam before they grew up and moved on, but then we have to remember that these are the same people that leave academia and are welcomed into the media, politics, the social services, and the teaching profession, indoctrinating the next generation with the same nihilistic Marxist dogma they themselves were taught. The masses may reject their message, but the minority remain in control of the biggest platforms. So, we were warned. In fact, we were warned a long time ago…

“Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book has been rewritten…every statue and street and building has been renamed, every date has altered. And that process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped.”

© The Editor

11 thoughts on “MALICE IN WONDERLAND

  1. A very appropriate ending quote from Mr Blair – Eric Blair that is, not Tony obviously. Although it’s interesting to note that the eldest son of Tony Blair is now campaigning against mass university education, reckoning that kids can do better by missing out that step so heavily promoted by his dad, having belatedly realised that the Mickey Mouse degrees in dance-inspired drama have wasted reams of degree-paper as well as compromising the futures of so many deceived young folks.

    If it’s any comfort in your own dislocation, it was always said that if you weren’t a socialist when you were 20, you didn’t have a heart, but if you weren’t a capitalist when you were 40, you didn’t have a brain.

    The problem for we non-extremists is that we can take positives from the fundamental principles of both directions, but there is no effective forum in which any such melange is vaguely acceptable or even tolerated. You’ve either got to be with the programme or against it, there’s no room for nuance or balance. We’re homeless, orphans, rejected, displaced, unwanted – although I suspect we’re actually the majority, but we just don’t go out rioting, looting and statue-uprooting for our lockdown amusement.

    It’s now proving very wise that Islam has always forbidden any forms of imagery or statues to act as icons for its source prophet – just imagine how today’s right-on rioting crowd could react to the history of a slave-owner who married his wife when she was only six years old, consummating that paedophile union when she was only 9, albeit hundreds of years ago. The Mayor of London and the ‘religion of peace’ seem carefully quiet on that topic right now . . . . strange that.

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    1. Yes, smart move indeed to introduce that rule into Islam! By the way, the two images at the end of the post are of a Queen Victoria statue in a park in Leeds which unfortunately happens to border the ‘student quarter’. I took the one on the left about seven years ago; the one on the right appeared online today, freshly repainted by someone clearly unaware Vicky never owned a slave in her life. Let’s not let facts get in the way, though…

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  2. “As someone unpleasantly estranged from actual family members….”

    Tell me about it! They use my alcoholism, an actual disease that I am being treated for, as an excuse for all kinds of bullying behaviour.

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  3. That face. The expression of a man how has offered to suck anything, even assumed the position, but is not getting any takers.
    Also note the bookshelves. A real intylectule ain’t he. A bunch of pristine, never been opened classy looking books and…….nothing. Not even a little box to keep his charisma in when he isn’t using it.
    I am starting to understand how Americans must have felt like before rhe last Presidential election.
    Trump, Hillary, Trump, Hillary, oh fuck it,
    Here we have Starmer, the tailors dummy, Bumbling ,Bloody Boris, and that gurning one from the turd party.

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    1. And he was the best Labour could do! Hard to imagine it could’ve been even worse, then you remember he was up against Rebecca Long-Bailey and Lisa Nandy – Corbyn in drag or ‘Trans Rights 4 Wigan’. So the membership selected a walking vacuum…or (as he now is) a kneeling one.

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      1. We could give the Labour Party a bit of credit. They are faced with a Prime Minister who offers a lorry-load of targets every day, every time he opens his mouth a new target appears. So they chose the most bland, anodyne, charisma-free, chameleon specimen available, probably on the assumption that every time Boris drops a bollock, Kier will look a little more safely competent and the votes of the scaredy-cats will follow.

        The alternative would have involved developing agreed policies which will appeal to the electorate, so maybe we can see why they took the simpler ‘he’s not Boris’ approach.

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    1. I remember back in the early 2000s watching a ‘Porridge’ episode I’d seen many times before in which Fletch and a few other prisoners are escorted outside the prison to dig a ditch. Godber wants to initiate a singsong like (as he says) ‘Negro slaves’; whilst making this suggestion, a lump of mud flies off his shovel and lands on Fletch’s face. Fletch’s reply is ‘Alright, but we don’t have to look like ’em.’ This line, which I was waiting for, had mysteriously vanished. As had a line uttered by Trig in an ‘Only Fools…’ episode in which a seance takes place and the medium declares she can sense the presence of a figure with long golden hair wearing many rings; Del Boy immediately assumes the figure is his dead mother, whereas Trig’s response to the description is ‘Sounds like Jimmy Savile.’ Funniest line in the episode – gone.

      This has been a long time coming, sadly. The BBC’s deleting of numerous shows from BBC4’s 70s TOTP rerun five or six years back emphasised they are not worthy curators of their own archive and will bow to pressure from any minority professing ‘offence’ – just like every other public body. It’s time one of those bodies said the word that the generation in a perpetual state of offence has never been confronted by…NO.

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