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