Monthly Archives: October 2014

Revolutiony wevolutiony

I don’t mind the beard. The pointy shoes. The scary starey eyes. Watching football behind glass. The gorblimey guvnor knees up muvva brahn voice.

All right then, I do mind some of it. But that’s my personal taste rather than anything important. You can be a wealthy cockney in an executive box grinning manically at Jonathan Ross if you like. Who am I to complain? I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter.

No, it’s not the wrapping but the content. The message. The lack of message in the message. The call for a revolution that isn’t a revolution. Let’s get rid of this, but let’s not do replace it with anything better. Don’t bother me with graphs, mate.

It’s such an easy way to ridicule the Left (if we must pick a capitalised direction to represent a huge swathe of philosophy, and we must). He said something about 9-11! He’s a nutter! He doesn’t have any answers! He has money!

Easy, easy kicking. No wonder everyone loves him. The establishment, because he’s a handy caricature, an easily dismissed shorthand for all radicalism, a grotesque who can be used to splodge over the values of everyone from Co-operatives to greens to liberals. People of about 17, who need to rebel against something because they must. People who hate the system, because the system is terrible, and hateful, and wrong, and broken, and needs to be changed.

But it’s all too easily dismissed. I know he means well; I genuinely believe that. And you don’t get to be interviewed by Evan Davis – that rather smug, tedious invigilator who constantly has the air of a man trying to look calm while his suit jacket attempts to crush him like a boa constrictor – unless you’re famous. Or a joker for the coconut shy. So, he’s both. But… Is there really no one else to be put up?

It’s lazy. Lazy, predictable, lamentable, banal. Pick the long haired gangly harlequin instead of someone who might be more articulate, more studied, more in depth, more prepared, less shouty.

I don’t blame him. Why blame him? He’s trying his best and he almost certainly believes what he’s saying. Good for him. Blame those who decide only he can represent a challenge to the established order. They’re responsible for him. They’re the ones making it easy for themselves, taking no risks, making it easy, keeping it simplistic.

Revolution! Ha ha. This’ll keep them from it.

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Posted by on October 26, 2014 in Uncategorized


The purple and yellow headed monster

They are here. A bunch of bigoted old men writing policies on the back of a fag packet, Ukip have rightly been little more than a tedious joke for years. Now they’re here. They’re there. They’re every fucking where.

Are you a white man who dislikes other people? You are? Then great! Welcome home. Pull a pint, smoke a fag, tut at an immigrant, your dreams have come true. Our Masters In Brussels ™ are quaking. We’re on the march. Not the bomber jackets and scarf covered faces of the BNP or edl, this is the army of Mr Blobby baring yellowish nicotine stained teeth at foreigners. It’s all such a lark. Political correctness went mad and these are the boys who will stop their little game. It’s all going to be hilarious.

People say: ignore them. They’re nutters and racists. Other people say: you can’t ignore them; they’re racists and nutters. Other people say: you can’t dismiss them as nutters and racists since quite a lot of people agree with them and not that many people could be nutters and/or racists or it’d be very depressing. But what if they are and what if it is?

It’s true, you can blame a lot on the cosy consensus – everything must be privatised, spending must be cut, we know what’s best for you. But this consensus now includes the impenetrable truth that immigration must be tackled. That’s no longer the outlying, dangerous, shady view: that’s front and centre, whether your rosette is red or blue or purple and yellow. No one dares challenge it. We slip slowly towards more hatred.

These aren’t the anti establishment faces. They’re the establishment. This is a knuckleduster under a masonic glove. This is suburban hatred. This is a jackboot in a Ford Mondeo. This is prejudice with a smile.

Oh but you can’t call them racists. You mustn’t call them that.

They are though. They are. And worse. But keep on laughing.

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Posted by on October 12, 2014 in Uncategorized