Liverpool FC are League Champions again. They deserve it, even if they won it in an atmosphere evocative of a reserve game at Torquay United. Maybe the team can celebrate down on the beach – as long as they pick the right resort. Of course, had the multitudes crammed onto the beach at Bournemouth been waving BLM or rainbow flags, perhaps their flouting of social distancing etiquette wouldn’t have led to their presence being regarded as a ‘major incident’. Instead of throwing their hands up in despair when confronted by such uncontrollable numbers, the police could have stripped down to their trunks and done ‘a gay dance’ on the sands or maybe taken the knee. Clearly, the latter addition to the police training manual didn’t work in Brixton the night before; or maybe a Force already regarded as an ineffective joke in the capital were facing the inevitable consequences when submissive virtue-signalling has portrayed them even further as weak and spineless. Well, they only have themselves to blame.

As somebody instinctively immune to the delights of either intense heat or crowds, the scenes at Bournemouth and Brighton would have resembled Hell on Earth to me, anyway – regardless of pandemic issues; but the minute mass demonstrations swept across several British cities when so many restrictions had yet to be lifted, the game was up; applauding those with a cause and condemning those without looks suspiciously like double standards. Neither type of gathering was a good idea for the containment of an infectious virus, but you can’t give the thumbs up to one and the thumbs down to the other because you’re scared of what will become of you should you stand up to the relentless emotional bullying of the loudest voice.

Indeed, as our old pal Mr Orwell said, ‘At any given moment there is an orthodoxy, a body of ideas which it is assumed that all right-thinking people will accept without question. It is not exactly forbidden to say this, that or the other, but it is “not done” to say it, just as in mid-Victorian times it was “not done” to mention trousers in the presence of a lady. Anyone who challenges the prevailing orthodoxy finds himself silenced with surprising effectiveness.’ The lexicon of undesirable labels to lob into the debating arena and instantly curtail criticism of the consensus is sold as a means of upholding democratic rights, though the beneficiaries of these rights are entirely selective in the New World Order, lest we forget. ‘In other words,’ added Orwell, ‘defending democracy involves destroying all independence of thought. These people don’t see that if you encourage totalitarian methods, the time may come when they will be used against you instead of for you.’

And they’ve come for Rebecca Long-Bailey now. The cancel culture so beloved of the regressive left has turned round and bitten one of their own on account of Sir Keir Starmer’s ‘first priority’ as Labour leader being to get a grip on the anti-Semitism rife in his party. Ms Double-Barrelled Socialist was ejected as Shadow Education Secretary for re-tweeting an interview with actress (and renowned Corbyn groupie) Maxine Peake, who spun a conspiracy theory yarn that the tactics used to squeeze the last breath from the lungs of George Floyd had been taught to the US police by Mossad. The chief Auton saw this promotion of yet another imaginary association with wicked old Israel as a good excuse to sack his former leadership rival and one-time heir to Jezza.

Whilst few outside of Momentum would mourn the exile of Long-Bailey from the Opposition frontbench, Starmer has a job on his hands if he truly intends to purge Labour of something so intrinsic to the extreme Identity Politics agenda that has both bolstered its membership and alienated its traditional voting base. Filling his Shadow Cabinet with yes-men entirely sympathetic to his own ‘Identitarian-Lite’ vision is not a unifying tactic anymore than Corbyn filling his with his own yes-persons was. Neither can call upon the considerable skill of Harold Wilson in holding together a frontbench of diverse opinions that were forced to work together for the greater good. Maxine Peake was quick to issue the standard humbling apology, perhaps mindful of her career receiving a Laurence Fox-type period of extended ‘resting’ as a consequence, and though Long-Bailey has also bent over backwards to stress she is NOT anti-Semitic, it made no difference to her reduced status.

If only Long-Bailey had been a Woman of Colour and an academic to boot, such as Cambridge charmer Priyamvada Gopal, who tweeted the following heart-felt message of love and harmony – ‘Now we have the opportunity to carry out a resolute offensive against the whites, break their resistance, eliminate them as a class and replace their livelihoods with the livelihoods of people of colour and LGBTQ.’ A fairly routine and not remotely controversial opinion to hold within the hallowed walls that have served as the nursery for contemporary groupthink and enough to secure Dr Gopal promotion rather than the no-platforming reserved for academics whose opinions are the ‘wrong’ ones. Flying a banner over a football stadium bearing the legend ‘White Lives Matter’ is not a great idea, of course, but the race-baiters got what they wanted there, so why the fuss? It was bad racism and the idiot behind it has lost his job while that nice Dr Gopal has kept hers because she’d said ‘White Lives Don’t Matter’, which is good racism. Both dicks, but only one currently claiming Universal Credit, funnily enough.

At least we can rely on the BBC for a semblance of sanity. They might have quietly shuffled the horrific murder of three gay men in Reading to the back of the queue because the nasty man that did it might invite…ooh…’Islamophobic’ responses, but I’m sure the trio of victims received a respectful minutes’ silence in the Commons, didn’t they? Anyway, Auntie is getting her house in order by promising to spend £100 million of your licence fee on ‘diverse and inclusive content’. About time too. It’d be nice to think the BBC would extend its concept of diversity and inclusivity to encompass diversity of thought, opinion and – more than anything – class, but I suspect the Oxbridge graduates will keep their jobs and continue to portray the entire country as an Islington dinner-party ideal of a multicultural, LGBTXYZ Britain akin to the old Coca-Cola ad that taught the world to sing. We can probably look forward to an all-trans version of ‘Henry V’ once production resumes on the corporation’s drama output; in the meantime, it needs to keep the iPlayer clean of any embarrassing old uncles that contradict the narrative.

Failing that, the Beeb could simply do what the rest of the bankruptcy-threatened Arts have done. Woke infestation had already placed them on life-support, but Covid-19 could well deliver the fatal blow that the creative industries have brought upon themselves. As Maoist principles are chic again, it’s worth remembering how any plays, books or films deemed even vaguely critical of the regime were banned during the Cultural Revolution and replaced with regime-approved propaganda substitutes that ticked all the right boxes, the so-called Model Dramas. Look at the output of the BBC, Hollywood and the publishing industry under the rewritten rules and regulations and tell me we’re not being served-up our very own Model Dramas right now. It might explain why they’re all so shite, I guess. Suppress the dissenting voice of the individual and kill creativity in the process. That’s the kind of diversity and inclusivity we like in 2020. I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a long summer.

© The Editor


Emily Thornberry looks like somebody drew a face on a thumb. Okay, got the childish insult based on physical appearance out of the way first – just in case it might appear my objection to Lady Nugee was solely down to not liking the look of her. Mind you, the look of a politician does make a difference, whether we like it or not; how they carry themselves in public and come across on TV can undoubtedly have an impact on the electorate. With or without bacon sandwich, Ed Miliband just never convinced as a potential PM – and neither did Jeremy Corbyn. Nevertheless, the former was clearly desperate to move into No.10 – hell, yeah! – whereas the latter has always given the impression he was fairly ambivalent on the subject. And now a fresh crop of contenders are vying to step into shoes sorely in need of a trip to the cobblers.

The most honest post-Election obituaries to have emanated from the Labour camp have been aired by those who either lost their seats or are long past leadership ambitions. A small handful of hopefuls intending to inherit the poisoned chalice have tentatively issued gentle criticisms of the Corbyn regime, but they’re too mindful of the grip Momentum has on the party to fully let rip; they realise any overt critique of Corbynism and actually saying out loud what a catastrophic effect it had at the ballot box could curtail a leadership campaign. No, anyone hoping to become Labour leader cannot publicly declare what everyone outside of the party knows to be fact. This means, of course, that all bar one or two expected to throw their hats into the ring are already doomed to lead the party to a fifth successive General Election defeat in 2024. Labour’s problem right now is that any ‘period of reflection’ is in denial from the off and thus further detaches it from the electorate that comprehensively rejected it a couple of weeks ago.

At the time of writing, only Thornberry and Clive Lewis have officially announced their intention to run, with Keir Starmer, Rebecca Long-Bailey and Lisa Nandy (and possibly Jess Phillips) expected to follow shortly. Thornberry embodies the London-centric mafia that have dominated the Shadow Cabinet during Jezza’s tenure – sneering, snooty Champagne Socialism of the worst order, contemptuously dismissing the traditional provincial Labour plebs in favour of chasing the middle-class, big city university graduates. But her enthusiastic embrace of the Second Referendum agenda should hopefully prevent her from being installed as the next Prime Minister-that-never-was; this arrogant misjudgement of the public mood typifies the insular narcissism of Lady Nugee and her clique, making her the last person capable of winning back hardcore Labour voters who switched to the Tories.

The loathsome Keir Starmer would be another disaster, though he has been sly and clever in a Mandelson manner to keep his seat on the Opposition frontbench throughout a period in which the wide divide between Corbynistas and the rest has dispatched so many into exile. Starmer’s chameleon-like ability to quietly blend into the Shadow Cabinet almost unnoticed is a by-product of his unnerving absence of personality as well as a blatant pointer to his leadership ambitions. As was noted in relation to Tom Watson – whose name would have been top of the contenders’ list had he not bailed out as soon as the General Election was called – the fact that Starmer can be regarded as a moderate voice of reason when he was so eager to thwart a democratic mandate delivered by such a large percentage of Labour voters speaks volumes as to the state of the party. And, lest we forget, this is a man responsible for overturning one of the foundation stones of British Law during his toxic stint at the CPS helm; for that alone, the man shouldn’t have been let anywhere near public office ever again.

Clive Lewis is perhaps the most anonymous of the names put forward – best known for being caught on camera using the word ‘bitch’ in a toe-curling, ironic ‘Gangsta’ fashion during a fringe event at the 2017 Labour Party Conference before being forced into the standard apology when it went viral. He is a close Corbyn ally and Remainer, both of which instantly alienate him from those Labour needs to win back to even stand a chance of being the largest party in a Hung Parliament – which, with such a severely depleted seat tally, is the best Labour can hope for next time round. But in a party so driven by Identity Politics, the colour of his skin may be the one thing he has going for him. If the new leader can’t be a woman, surely a black man would be the right box-ticking move?

Jezza’s anointed heir is Rebecca Long-Bailey, the double-barrelled northerner whose accent is about the only aspect that distinguishes her from the inner-M25 crowd she’s embedded in. She reminds me of an imagined Caroline Aherne character from ‘The Fast Show’ – if there’d been a ‘crap politician’ one. With Corbynism such a tainted brand in the mind of the electorate, changing the leader whilst sticking with the brand makes changing the leader a pointless exercise; and that’s precisely what will happen if Long-Bailey is elected as the chosen one of Corbyn, McDonnell, Momentum and McCluskey. Angela Rayner was initially touted as a prospective contender, being seen as ‘soft left’ and not as closely allied to the Corbyn master-plan as Long-Bailey; Rayner also has a back-story that serves as a refreshing alternative to the usual private school/Oxbridge/SPAD conveyor belt. However, it now appears she and Long-Bailey may engage in a pseudo-Blair/Brown pact, offering voters Continuity Corbyn and Corbyn-Lite in a bid to claim that record-breaking fifth-in-a-row defeat.

Lisa Nandy is mainly known through her appearances as one of a rotating group of Labour MPs sharing a sofa with Michael Portillo on ‘This Week’. Her Brexit stance, which was opposed to the People’s Vote smokescreen, may make her a more attractive prospect to Labour deserters; ditto representing one of the old industrial towns (Wigan) that the Corbyn crowd so casually disregarded; and the fact that she left the Shadow Cabinet in 2016, receiving abuse for supporting Owen Smith’s leadership challenge, makes her the only realistic candidate genuinely distanced from Corbynism. She’d also be more likely to attract Labour centrist voters than Second Referendum cheerleader and New Labour leftover Yvette Cooper. Whether or not Nandy is a strong enough personality in terms of taking on Boris Johnson at the dispatch-box is another matter, however.

Strong personality is one thing Jess Phillips certainly couldn’t be accused of lacking. In some respects, the MP for Birmingham Yardley is the nearest thing Labour has to the PM in terms of energetic bluster and putting her foot in it. A gobby long-time critic of Corbyn, Phillips often falls back on playing the ‘working-class woman’ card in the same way outside bet David Lammy constantly resorts to the race card; and she would need to up her game considerably to be regarded as a serious candidate. She’d also have to overcome the dominance of the pro-Corbyn membership to get anywhere near the leadership. If the party wasn’t so determined to carry on along the suicidal path that has made it unelectable, it might well decide to push Phillips forward as Labour’s Boris, just as the Tories pushed Cameron forward as their Blair. If that’s what it takes to get back into government, they could try it; but I suspect they won’t. Nobody in a position to alter the direction of the Labour Party appears capable of tearing up a bad script and giving this country what it so desperately needs – a strong, viable and believable opposition that can take the Tories to the cleaners.

© The Editor

PS Sincere apologies for the unintentionally altered appearance of the text. Afraid the ‘justify’ option for the preferred text allignment has inexplicably disappeared from the editing process (one of those unasked-for ‘upgrades’ that always contradict the old ‘if it ain’t broke’ maxim); unfortunately, from now on every post will look nowhere near as nice ‘n’ neat as it used to do. Nothing I can do about it, alas. The march of progress, eh?