I WONDER where history will apportion the blame, or point the finger, at what split the United Kingdom irrevocably in two.
I’m not sure Brexit was the cause, but it’s certainly become the totem for a divided nation that I doubt has been so riven since the English Civil War.
Neither am I sure it’s too much of an exaggeration to posit that the possibility of mass civil strife looms ever larger and more likely with each passing political lurch of the establishment. And these eruptions are every few weeks right now.
If you were going to develop the metaphor of the overthrowing of the monarchy and the rise of Parliamentary democracy, I suppose the Brexiteers would be the modern Cavaliers of Charles I’s days, with the Remainers shearing their locks and posing as Cromwell’s Roundheads. The great irony is that the roles have been absolutely reversed.
I’m sure the neo-liberal, tree-hugging, EU-loving brotherhood of mankind brigade that characterises the Remain lobby see themselves as the progressives in all of this.
They have a vision of open borders and everyone (except themselves, it always transpires) adopting a middle eastern immigrant (and why are they mostly 20-something single men?)
They smile and shrug off the explosion in sex assaults that happens when third world Islamism (and it usually is) meets emancipated first world female flesh, as is happening right now across every European nation that embraced the migrant tide.
In the liberals’ rose-tinted worldview, those poor souls just don’t know any better.
It’s ‘we’ who need to try harder, to embrace more closely, to throw more money at helping these poor people; it’s never they who need to adjust to life in a civilised Christian democracy.
Ah – that word, that tricky, route-of-today’s-evil word. And no, not Christian. Democracy, actually. That’s the rub.
Did you see former Green Party leader Caroline Lucas MP on the Daily Politics show this week? If not, look it up on YouTube.
In one shocking, revelatory sentence, Lucas summed up the unassailable problem British society is struggling with right now.
I doubt that history’s verdict will alight on the head of someone as hare-brained and insignificant as the frankly rabbit-mad Caroline Lucas, but what she said hits the nail right on the head.
She was arguing for this so-called People’s Vote or second referendum, when host Jo Coburn posed the unthinkable question – but what if the people spoke even louder this time in favour of reclaiming our sovereignty from Brussels? What if even more people voted Leave? Wouldn’t Lucas then have to abide by the outcome in the Houses of Parliament, to act on the people’s will?
You have to admire Caroline Lucas’s zeal, if not her fascist tendencies: No she said, she still wouldn’t. Our voice is pointless, redundant. If we disagree with these people, we’re simply wrong. Shouldn’t be trusted with the vote.
And there you have it, neatly wrapped up and tied – democracy, dead.
And it’s this elitist liberal class who perceive themselves as the righteous owners of all wisdom, knowledge and the arbiters of all that could or should be.
They are the vote-resistant enemies of democracy, and anyone who dissents – people like most of you reading this column, because I doubt the Snowflakes can bring themselves to – is dismissed as thick, bigoted, racist, xenophobic. Patriotic? That’s a dirty word these days.
Except that what today’s Roundheads reveal themselves as being, in their EU-loving hearts, are the actual racists and bigots in the 2019 social and political divide.
I think the hate being spewed at Boris Johnson, the ridiculous regurgitating of his every self-mocking photo opportunity, is good for true Brits.
Thicken your skins, folks and just ignore the insults. Sticks and stones and all that. We have to stop caring about the thumb-sucking sulks of the so-called liberals.
Leave them to their foot-stomping tantrums and just get on with enacting the people’s will and passing laws that reinforce all that’s good about this country – what made Britain great.
The only people who can do that are the people who actually believe that, so I don’t care how many notches Boris has on his bedpost – just get on and get the job done, sunshine.
And take no notice of the pointless and pathetic whingers. Because let’s face it – it isn’t as if any of them would be much good in a fight, if it ever came to that.
CARL BEECH is a nasty, loathesome paedophile who deserves to rot away his remaining days and years in a British prison, always looking over his shoulder.
As perverts go, it’s unusual that the people who suffered at Beech’s hands – or rather his warped imagination – were elderly men, as opposed to the children whose images he fantasised over on his computers.
Beech is the man that senior police officers and one shameful politician believed hook, line and sinker, when he painted a sick picture of orgies, rapes and murders by some of the most respected men in the British establishment.
No matter that there wasn’t a shred of evidence to support Beech’s wild assertions of a Westminster VIP paedophile ring.
No matter that a cursory delve into his background should have set alarm bells ringing. But once Wiltshire Police dismissed Beech’s fairytales and he went to the Metropolitan Police, good men were in deep trouble.
You see the Met wanted, passionately, pervertedly, to believe his sick fantasies. That’s how bad British law enforcement has become.
Like many forces these days but particularly the Met, they are led by officers driven not by upholding law and order, but enforcing Politically Correct dogma.
They are every bit as warped as Beech in their fantasies of ‘sexy’ crimes – of elevating a social media insult into a race-hate violation, or a celebrity slap and tickle in 1976 into a 2019 witchhunt.
Burglaries, stabbings, drug dealers? Too much like hard work. Or too boring, maybe.
In the wake of the Jimmy Savile scandal, every Carl Beech was automatically believed instead of being rigorously tested.
Instead of inquiry and judgement, the Met Police – and others – have become liberal vigilantes, aided by morons like Labour deputy leader Tom Watson, who jumped on the back of Beech’s fantasies and wilfully, publicly, destroyed men’s reputations and lives, with absolutely zero legal process.
It was typified when South Yorkshire police (using Met ‘intelligence’) excitedly alerted the BBC of their impending swoop on Cliff Richard.
Freddie Starr was arrested and questioned four times and bailed nine times before being told he faced no charges.
For every Stuart Hall or Rolf Harris brought to justice, there were men like Cliff whose names and reputations were blighted – William Roache and Michael le Vell from Coronation Street, DJ Paul Gambaccini, Jim Davidson, MP Nigel Evans – whose lives were made a public hell for months and years, all over imagined incidents sometimes decades old.
Yes, those allegations have to be investigated, although the glee with which police forces react when it involves a famous name gives pause for thought. If only today’s crimes with obvious victims got them so aroused.
Carl Beech spun his ever-wilder lies hidden by the pseudonym ‘Nick’ while the identities of the men he slandered, Lord Greville Janner, Sir Harvey Proctor, the late Prime Minister Edward Heath, chief of the defence staff Lord Bramall, and ex-MI5 chief Sir Michael Hanley, were shouted by police and politicians from the rooftops with the specific intent of encouraging other fantasists to join the sick circus.
A law that protects the identities of all people involved in such cases cannot be passed quickly enough. Even if – especially if – it spoils the fun of unfit-for-purpose police officers.