Ed Lines – February 23, 2018

Ed Lines – February 23, 2018

CREDIT is due to the Leadbeater family for their compassion and support for Brendan Cox during last week’s public shaming over sexual harassment claims against him.

Jo Cox’s parents and sister Kim epitomised dignity in the face of absolute horror during the trial of her killer Thomas Mair. Anyone who saw them during what Mair turned into a cruel pantomime at the Old Bailey, couldn’t have been anything other than deeply touched.

Brendan however, having tried to turn Jo’s murder into an opportunistic piece of ‘Vote Remain’ propaganda, just showed up the once for his moment of drama on the last day. It all felt a bit staged if I’m honest, compared to how the Leadbeaters comported themselves.

The timing of this week’s ‘revelations’ surprises me because Brendan’s exit from Save the Children over the first of these sex allegations was public by the time Jo was killed. Perhaps even the predatory national media was capable of showing a bit of compassion at such an awful time. Maybe they now think the mourning period has passed.

Given Brendan’s existing reputation, this week’s muck-raking can’t have been easy to stomach for Jo’s nearest and dearest.

As such his resignation from the two charities set up in his wife’s name was appropriate, even if the tears for the accompanying media interview bordered on the stomach-turning. The bloke’s just a bit too good at that.

But Jo Cox apart, the real victims of Mair’s despicable act were their two children. They need their dad, grandparents and auntie Kim, so whatever any of their private thoughts, that family solidarity is admirable.

Brendan Cox seems to have considered himself a bit of a stud – along with his disgraced boss and friend at the charity – and if only for the benefit of his wife’s late memory, we can be grateful that his behaviour was some way distant from the outrageous abuse that’s emerging from charities like Oxfam.

I find myself asking, where will it all end?

From the church to schoolteachers, from celebrity predators like Savile to scout troops and junior sports clubs, and now to charities working with the most vulnerable people imaginable – are there no depraved depths men will not plumb?

And make no mistake, it is overwhelmingly a ‘man’ thing. For every monstrous Myra Hindley or Rose West, there are hundreds and thousands of warped men intent on manipulating their ways into situations ripe for abuse.

Lord knows I poke fun and ridicule at the hysterical sisterhood and their #metoo posturing, but there’s nothing to imaginably lighten the mood over some of these stories.

Short of running lie detector tests on anyone remotely keen on positions of such responsibility, I’m not sure what we can do.

And I suppose if a lie detector is deemed to infringe their human rights, we’ve no chance of chopping the nuts off the ones who get caught…

NOT to trivialise these matters, but the ‘support’ for Brendan Cox and total silence over the Oxfam scandal from Labour’s usual zealots was quite pointed.

A rich businessman touches a hostesses knee at the Presidents Club charity dinner and the banshees wails are deafening.

A sick fantasist dreams up historic murder/abuse allegations (by establishment Tories obviously) and Labour deputy leader Tom Watson strong-arms Scotland Yard into throwing millions at a wild goose chase.

Charity staff horrifically abuse actual vulnerable people … and again, almost total silence from the left. Nothing above a tut-tut.

Why? Because the sins of ‘their own’ – as in lib-left  members of the charitable sector – are probably all someone else’s fault. 

It’s not just bewildering. It’s actually frightening.

I’M not sure what got me literally hopping mad the most – the fact that so-called ‘allergy groups’ tried to have the new Peter Rabbit animated movie shut down, or that its producers cravenly grovelled to them.

For crying out loud.

If you missed this story, in the movie the bunnies pelt the baddie with blackberries, setting off his allergy. And everyone lived happily ever after, or sentiments to that effect. At least Peter and friends didn’t end up in a casserole dish with onion gravy that I’m aware of.

But for a timely intervention in the back garden at 20 Cliffe Street, Staincliffe, in 1970 or thereabouts, my pet rabbit Harry certainly would have ended up being my granddad Harry’s Sunday dinner (yes, he was named after him – but there were very few things on two or four legs that granddad Harry wouldn’t consign to the pot after a couple of lunchtime pints at Common Road WMC).

Anyway, my Harry survived until being killed by dogs that got into his hutch in Thornhill Lees a few years later. So far as I’m aware, Harry lived a blameless life and never put anyone into anaphylactic shock by throwing blackberries, peanuts or any other allergy-inducing materials at them.

Apart from not having thumbs and thus being unable to throw – and also being a very benign, little rabbit – Harry wouldn’t know anything about allergies. Rabbits don’t. 

You see, as much as it clearly comes as a surprise to Carla Jones, CEO of Allergy UK, Peter Rabbit isn’t and never was real. Not in Beatrix Potter’s book and not as a computer-generated character in a fun, family-friendly film.

It’s called fiction, Carla love. Pretend. Make believe. No allergy-suffering humans were hurt let alone killed in the making of this picture. You sanctimonious, humourless cretin.

CAN someone explain to me how company directors can award themselves lavish bonuses while expressly neglecting to pay their employees’ pension contributions? How is this legal?

How can a ‘bonus’ be due when a business is not performing well enough to meet its legal financial obligations?

For two years corporate investors were jumping overboard, such was the shocking state of Carillion’s business – yet government agencies blithely kept handing them huge public contracts.

Everyone’s pensions (except the directors’ of course) got neglected, while the people running the business into the ground just kept dipping their bread in the gravy train. 

The only possible explanation no-one is in handcuffs that I can conjure, is that they’re all in it together.

I FIND myself in something of a quandary. There’s no doubt that Paula Sherriff and Tracy Brabin are two of the busier Members of Parliament this district has had in recent decades.

I would also rate Shahid Malik up there, whilst considering Simon Reevell and Mike Wood as general wastes of Parliamentary space.

We might not see eye to eye politically, but the lady MPs are clearly grafters. But can they really, truly, support Jeremy Corbyn – and keep a straight face?

I don’t buy this ‘Agent Cob’ baloney that Corbyn worked for Czech spymasters. Just 18 months ago Labour wouldn’t have trusted him to empty the House of Commons waste paper baskets, so he wasn’t much use to anyone 30 years ago. But the point isn’t that Corbyn was selling state secrets. Sure, he might have been able to tell eastern bloc spies what was on the agenda of Wolfie Smith’s Tooting Popular Front – the comedy series which was just about Corbyn’s political level back then – but that’s all.

The point is that today’s would-be Prime Minister was cosying up to his Marxist heroes then and if he possibly could, he still would.

He was and remains a friend and fan of dictators and terrorist groups the world over. He idolises men responsible for the deaths of millions – millions! – of their own citizens.

And it is abundantly clear that Jeremy Corbyn hates virtually everything about our country, except the narrow interests of people either so economically illiterate – or  in the case of his Momentum and Union puppet-masters so power-mad – that he will happily be hoist on their shoulders, so they can bring the United Kingdom to its knees.

Did you see ‘harmless’ Jeremy’s stary-eyed social media rant this week, warning newspapers who criticise him that “change is coming” and they’d better watch out?

I’ve always found the old fool amusingly feeble – but I guess they said that about ‘Uncle Joe’ Stalin, whose formative politics were remarkably akin to Corbyn’s.

That couldn’t happen here? The powers behind Cob’s throne might beg to differ.

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