In this, the darkest hour of neutered Western media, the MSM have become a vital catalyst in the process of handing absolute totalitarian power to Establishments who, in turn, have grasped how easy it is to frighten the electorate into submission.
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The Americans want to rape our NHS. They won’t revoke a killer-driver’s diplomatic immunity. All this and more shows they cannot be trusted, and we are better off staying under the protection of the EU. Boris Johnson is a sex-pest and a liar who once kissed a woman’s hand 27 years ago, bestows favours upon pole-dancers, and knew all along that the EU had nine perfectly understandable objections to his backstop proposals. Boris Johnson is a bumbling idiot who smirks when being aggressively interviewed, is desperate for a deal and in a mess because the Finnish foreign minister says so and is a swine for trying to at least salvage some voter satisfaction from the wreckage of HMS Brexit. Furthermore, he is diluting the morals of Britons by increasing the chances of dogging in queues of lorries at Dover caused by nobody wanting to trade with us any more. Brexit was a terrible mistake even though it hasn’t happened yet and everyone knows most of the electorate are stupid and don’t understand that within six months of Brexit happening even though it hasn’t happened yet our national debt will be bigger than it was the last time the IMF had to be called in because of the actions of a Labour government which simply wasn’t socialist enough but not to worry because Jeremy and Momentum will soon be in power to smash the excluding influence of capitalism.
The profoundly terrifying nature of the collected ravings above is that they have all appeared in the British media at some point since March 31st, the last time that we asked for an extension. The sources are, in order, the Daily Mail, the Guardian, the Independent, the Times, Channel Four, the Times, the Independent, the Times, the Mirror, the Guardian, the BBC, Channel Four, The Times and the Socialist Worker.
There is no, nil, nul and zero evidence for the fabricated ‘NHS raid’ cobblers, and diplomatic immunity is a cornerstone of international relations which is very occasionally abused – but which we mess with at our joint peril. BoJo is a bloke who can’t keep the trouser snake where it belongs and is both sloppy and corrupt – in which failures he is exactly the same as John Major, Tony Blair, David Cameron, Theresa May and Jo Swinson.
His ‘smirking’ interview took place nine years ago, and was his controlled reaction to probably the most unpleasant (and blatant) ideological attack ever mounted by a British journalist against a politician. I’m sure Boris is “a nasty piece of work”: indeed, I’ve been writing about his amorality for fifteen years. But are John McDonnell, Jess Phillips, Emily Thornberry and Keir Starmer nice?
Downing Street says the Finnish quote was leaked EU-wide and is completely untrue. Johnon said yesterday he hadn’t seen the any detailed objections to his Irish proposals, and so 9 objections were hurriedly leaked last night to the Guardian….and now this makes the Prime Minister a liar, but doesn’t make the Commission a bunch of scoundrels dragging up imaginary problems in a never-ending bid to delay and derail a Brexit it could not survive.
Dogging in Dover lorries is a new one on me, and it probably is among lorry drivers too. The post-Brexit fiscal outlooks are based on ninety-fifth hand recycled supposition taking (as always) the most catastrophic economic scenarios about which they – up to an including the Caribou heading the Bank of England – have been consistently wrong since October 2016. Finally, with all the will in the world, Mr Corbyn does not know his junk bond from his jerry can: only 1 voter in 7 wants him as Prime Minister, and his Party is irrevocably split between Blairites and Momentumists.
Day after day, without respite, on and on the bile-fuelled invention pours forth from a media pack having a darkest hour more dark than a catacomb sixty feet below the surface of a Jovian moon, and roughly the same distance away from Earthly terra firma.
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One can’t help but be reminded of the ancient gag about a male negro slave being pushed into the Roman games, unarmed and with only a ragged loincloth to wear as protection. Three giant gladiators make their entrance, equipped in turn with broadsword, nets, shields and spear. The negro catches the spear in midair, rushes at the net and tears both it and the second gladiator to pieces. He throws it at the swordsman, killing him instantly, then grabs the remaining opponent’s shield and beats him to a smooth pulp with it.
The Roman mob is displeased. Their thumbs are turned down. As several flunkeys hurry onto the field of battle and drag off the dismembered and battered remains of the Gladiators, the Emperor Sadisticus clicks his fingers at another entrance, and four men with spades rush out, followed by a battalion of the Imperial guard. A large hole is dug, and the slave forcibly put into the hole, which is then refilled leaving only his head visible.
The Emperor clicks his fingers at a large metal fence across from the negro. The fence is drawn back, and an enormous, rabid bull careers into the arena, it’s horns specially steel-tipped, the better for the goring of heads poking out of the ground.
The bull instantly spots the slave’s face, snorts an horrific blast from his nose, speeds towards the buried man and leaps into the air, horns pointing at his intended victim. The negro tenses his neck muscles like a soccer striker, and heads the bull’s scrotal sac with all the force he can muster. The Bull is tossed to one side, where he lands, screaming in pain.
At the sound of his screams, the Amphitheatre falls into a deadly silence, broken by one sole spectator.
“Fight fair you black bastard,” the lone voice shouts.
***
The situation is further complicated by the likelihood that, having read that gag, thousands of young Britons will require remedial counselling to help them recover from exposure to toxic racism and unthinkable animal cruelty. The fact that the joke is a vicious satire on honkey ideas of equality and bullfighting will glide far above their heads; because with or without that Degree, they have been examined and hammered into one easily drilled shape by a moronic education system designed to produce conformist robots.
“How do you feel about the novels of Kafka?” I asked a Second Year Oxford Philosophy student eight years ago.
“Is it on the syllabus?” she enquired in return.
That is a true story. Two years before that, I joked to a group of (variously) degreed yoof who’d been through Reading, Bristol, Cambridge and Edinburgh Universities, “Of course, the thing with history is, it’s a thing of the past”.
The quip was greeted with the sort of reverence normally reserved for the Dalai Lama. Not one of them ‘got’ the irony. The result is that most of my younger daughter’s friends think I am an awesome highbrow. Oh dear.
***
Intellect is broadened, knowledge gained and wisdom gathered by three things: apolitical education, open-minded reading, and making mistakes. Western Establishments and their bureaucrat-media-educational pc gofers have politicised learning, discouraged contrarian thought, and insisted on respect for self-appointed experts on everything from monetary theory via Green issues to the inevitability of globalism. The adverse consequences of this “settled science” are then laughably dismissed as ‘unforeseen’.
However, an era is rapidly approaching during which everything will come to be questioned. And the human robots will – gradually – realise that lifeless robots have stolen their lives.
And when this happens, the promisory manipulators will be nowhere to be seen.
They will be hidden. Somewhere behind the android-voiced call centres, under the gated communities, down in the silos.
All citizen trust in our institutions will have evaporated. The Resistance will consist of those smart enough to have seen what’s coming, and thus reduced their dependence on the State to a point where they too are invisible.
We are all going to have to be very Brave in this New World.
The Slog 