At the End of the Day

DSCN0254.JPG At PMQs today, Theresa May went for a shot on Boris Johnson’s goal right from the kick-off. She told the House she “regretted” Ambassador Durroch’s decision to resign, and then went forth with her bare face hanging out to claim this load of old cods (My italics):

“Good government depends on public servants being able to give full and frank advice. I want all our public servants to have the confidence to be able to do that. I hope the House will reflect on the importance of defending our values and principles, particularly when they are under pressure.”

My God, but she really is a piece of work, isn’t she? This is the She-Devil who fired all the politicians standing up to Brussels, and then gave carte blanche to a few profoundly nasty, anti-democratic bureaucrats in the FCO, MI6 and the Treasury to sell the modern cradle of liberal democracy down the Rhine to a bunch of unprincipled Raubritters. The public “servants” hahaha to whom she gave unconstitutional power deliberately kept information from senior elected politicians, while the advice they offered her was ethically empty, and more frank with self-styled technocrats in Berlin, Brussels, Frankfurt and Paris than it was with elected representatives in the House of Commons.

Values and principles? Almost every last word of the Withdrawal Diktat she signed us up to was collaborational cowardice outdoing the armistice France signed with the Nazis at Compiègne in 1940. Theresa May made Pierre Laval and Neville Chamberlain seem paragons of courage by comparison.

The only things under pressure during her mercifully brief spell at Number Ten were the sovereignty of Parliament, the Rule of Law, and our liberty as a Nation State to trade with a world beyond the increasingly dictatorial oligarchy of the European Union.

I write all this not to defend Boris Johnson (whose outlook on life is indefensible regardless of one’s choice of dimension) but to remind everyone what a bunch of self-serving, incompetent amateurs Whitehall civil servants are. Since forever, they have been proved wrong on every foreign, domestic, economic, financial and fiscal issue they have faced, or policy they have recommended.

The Crimean War, the Boer War, Edwardian Battleship development, Tsarist Russia, European alliances, Sykes-Piquot, appeasing 1930s fascists, Dunkirk, 1950s Communists, 1960s education, 1970s immigration, 1980s finanicialisation, 1990s multiculturalism, 21st century globalist mercantilism….they have either fallen into line with fashion or vigorously opposed any commonsense creativity designed for Britain’s survival in the world. One minute supine, grovelling lackeys and the next power-grabbing nest-featherers, their illegally awarded pension costs are second only to the remaining liabilities of our useless banks.

I don’t give a monkey’s what Theresa May wants: I long only for the day when the monkeys who advise her return to the wild….there to become extinct, for they are incapable of survival without taxpayer handouts.


In closing tonight, I offer this infinitely difficult question for consideration: how many of us can genuinely say that we have spent a life being loved for who we really are?

Such a question begs another one: how many of us know who we really are? But I don’t want to get too dark on that one. I suspect the vast majority of us know who we are, but doubt our ability to be loved for it. And that’s the real issue.

It is a truism of social intercourse that – on sitting across a desk from an interviewer, while speaking first words to a member of the opposite sex, or on addressing immediate employees in a new job – we all ‘put our best foot forward’. The fear, I think, is that we may put foot in mouth, and thus blow any chances we might have of success….however that word might be defined.

‘The whole world is a stage, and we are but actors upon it’ wrote Shakespeare. In other words, we all pretend for much of our time here on Earth. We may signal virtue, plead innocence to the neutrals, claim responsibility that ought to be shared, or deny responsibility for heartache we have caused. But in the wee small hours, we occasionally awake for a bathroom visit; and – having had a wee – before returning to the world of the surreal, get frighteningly close to the real (rather than the Royal) We.

At that moment in particular, most of us need to nudge the person with us into wakefulness, and get reassurance that we are loved for the reality of our being, rather than the image.

Contemporary neuroscientists believe that we all have between six and nine personalities, the features of which we choose to highlight depending on the audience. If true, this is depressing news for the concept of Truth. While it almost certainly reflects the species wiring designed to make us good tribe members and traders, the inevitable conclusion is that Homo sapiens spends a large proportion of its time expressing the counterfeit.

The bravest thing any human being can do is to reveal fallibility and fear to another. The failure of all senior politicians is their total inability to do this. Solszenhitsyn entitled his short story about Soviet politicians We Never make Mistakes because he understood that reality only too well.

I am off to bed now, and unsure whether – in any of my sexual relationships – I have ever really revealed all. I can’t believe I am alone in this state.