Ed Lines

I’VE given up trying to get a head start on writing Ed Lines during this madcap election campaign, because every passing day kicks the one before into the long grass of political pantomime.

You couldn’t write a script for Carry On Labour and match these comedic misfits.

If it isn’t Diane Abbott and Angela Raynor being thick as mince, it’s Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell dusting off Das Kapital and leaking it as their 2017 manifesto.

You think that ‘leak’ was an accident? Don’t talk daft. It was like a silent fart, deliberately let drop into polite company to see what the reaction would be.

Anyone with a brain swallowed their dentures laughing, because the economic incompetence is beyond parody – but they weren’t the target audience.

The more pressing question for a desperate Labour Party was how the nation’s knuckle-draggers and liberal sweethearts would react to the idea of handing the nation back to the unions.

Most people under 60 don’t remember three-day weeks and power cuts, and most people over 60 realise just how much better off they are.

Labour will keep their old diehards who would still vote for a donkey sporting a red rosette, but they are now relying on public sector workers, students and wet-eared idealists who actually believe you can reduce school class sizes below 30 AND keep open border immigration. You couldn’t do it even if you had the money, and we haven’t.

Corbyn and McDonnell aren’t just promising that people can have their cake and eat it, but that it will make itself, pay for itself, with the added benefit that feckless lard-arses can stuff three cakes a day down their neck and still be guaranteed to lose weight.

That’s what this leaked ‘manifesto’ is – a surreptitious toe-in-the-water to see if the nation has enough gullible idiots to make it actually worth publishing.

Will it see the light of day? Knowing this lot, probably.


YOU can’t believe much that comes out of any politicians’ mouths amidst the febrile election atmosphere, but I’m going to put my foot down with a firm hand, and declare that yes – I believe Jeremy Corbyn!

I believe he’s going to raise Corporation Tax by around 40 per cent (which I should admit would hit me specifically) and I believe he would make the minimum wage £10 an hour.

On the bright side, I guess I wouldn’t have to worry about the latter, because the former would just prompt me into shutting up shop.

What fool works for nowt?

All those jobs, full and part-time, lost? All those people on the dole? To Marxists like Corbyn and John McDonnell it would be worth it, just to stick a sword in the ribs of capitalism.

This isn’t about rebuilding Britain, it’s about their nasty class war. Our entire economy, our nationhood, is a price worth paying to these Wolfie Smiths who might have grown old, but haven’t grown up. They hate our country.

PS: I spoke too soon again – sure enough Labour’s loonies have agreed to ask the people to believe they will grow an orchard of money trees round the back of No.10!


DEL BOY Trotter would be tres chuffed at the election of new French president Emmanuel Macron.

Mind you, the cheeky Cockney would probably get hold of the wrong end of the stick and load up his Peckham market stall with old videos of the 70s soft-porn classic Emmanuelle.

No Del, this Emmanuel is a bloke. I know, what’s the world coming to, mon ami? Blokes with birds’ monickers? Running countries the size of France. Mange tout, Del, mange tout.

Well, I say ‘running’ France. Monsieur Macron has about as much political nous as Del, Rodders and la belle Sylvia Kristel (the actress who played Emmanuelle) together.

France picking Macron over their establishment candidates is like we Brits electing Eddie Izzard ahead of such political luminaries as Corbyn, Cameron, Clegg, Blair and Miliband.

The cynic in me would suggest the French  actually did elect a woman on Sunday – they picked someone happy to carry the bags of Germany’s iron lady Angela Merkel.

President Macron, who prefers the EU flag to La Tricolore, has made it abundantly clear that he will slavishly do the bidding of the EU/EC’s oberleutnants, Jean-Claude Juncker and Donald Tusk.

I’m pleased for our cousins across the water, which might come as a surprise to our Britain’s liberal sweethearts whose collective gussets were moist with joy at one of ‘their’ elitist fraternity finally winning a vote somewhere in the world.

The French could have chosen to start clearing the drain on Sunday. Instead they’ve decided to hasten the EU’s flushing of itself down the financial toilet. Let them get on with it.


IT SEEMS our best allies in the fight against ISIS are, erm, ISIS. With the Islamic State in total disarray, border areas of Iraq and Syria are being overrun by British and European jihadis trying to run home to mummy.

These misguided young men just want to explain that, actually, it wasn’t too bad living on benefits and selling heroin to addicts up Westtown. They’ll expect us to put their ISIS adventures down to youthful folly. The frustrating thing is that not only can’t we drown them in the Med, we can’t even turn a blind eye to the militias who would be delighted to machine-gun them straight to Paradise. We’re too nice for our own good.

These hobby-jihadis are now trying to head home and a return to the easy life – after doing a token spell in jail – and tragically there’s little we can do except house these ticking time bombs.

That’s why we need to thank the ISIS fanatics for once. They are setting up hit squads to trap deserters and aren’t renowned for a slap on the wrist where a slice of the neck will do. It’s time we started collaborating with ISIS and sending their deserters back.


MENTION of Labour saying they would use a Corporation Tax rise to fund investment in schools – presumably so the Politically Correct left-wing zealots who have spent 40 years destroying our education system can finish the job.

This is an education system which produces places like Hull University, a city always synonymous in my mind with uncompromising rugby league people, where the men are men – and so are most of the women.

Hull birds make Batley’s very own Saturday night Golden Milers look like the cast of Hollywood Wives.

But I make no wonder it’s been named European City of Culture judging by the madness in their premier halls of learning.

A Hull University degree on religious activism warns students they will lose marks if they use gender insensitive pronouns. No incorrect he/she, or him/her. Fail.

Referring to ‘mankind’ or our ‘forefathers’?

Forget that graduate traineeship kids, you’ll be stacking shelves down at Lidl (although at least under PM Jezza you’ll be earning enough to have an iPhone 7 and a drug habit).

I’m not sure where this is meant to lead; whether the lecturer involved suspects that Judas wore women’s gear under his robe, or that Mary Magdalene wasn’t just single but liked her hair cut very short.

What I can say is where it puts us right here and now – fighting an insidious language fascism, a politicised educational establishment intent not on delivering wisdom and learning, but a subversive liberal agenda.

These people are using their influence to rewrite our moral and social codes; they are wielding that power not to enlighten or develop bright young minds, but to threaten and bully people into their idealistic worldview.

It’s the fascist left again, at its insidious worst.

That is the ‘education’ system Corbyn and O’Donnell want to promulgate, even if it means driving thousands of businesses into the ground.


I DIDN’T see the parachute that deployed over Batley’s market place last week, but which presumably delivered Tory candidate Dr Ann Myatt duting her whistlestop tour of potential Westminster seats.

She claims to be a Yorkie, but gave an election address last year as Ambleside. So why haven’t we just asked her?

Because the Tories are keeping her to themselves until she knows her Cleckheckmond-sedge from her Norrisliverwike.

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