I heard a strange, wailing chant echoing around the centre of York last Friday afternoon. I felt compelled to edge closer and take a look.
It appeared to be some tribal ritual, like a coming-of-age ceremony, although the young people being herded together and made to chant seemed rather young for that.
Certainly pre-pubescent, I’d guess – primary schoolchildren with innocent, immature minds, presumably wide open to influence by all kinds of warped ideologies.
The language was unfamiliar, although these young zealots appeared thoroughly English middle class, freshly scrubbed and laundered. The young novices were ushered up to a central microphone, one by one. As best as I could decipher, in turn they shouted: “Waddawewan?” at which the frenzied gathering would howl, like young wolves: “Sissemchain!” and the verse continued: “Wennawewanit?” “Nowwwww!”
Now and again they would break into an impromptu, frenzied chorus of “Sissem-chainnaclimberchain!”* repeated over and over.
Dearie me. What were the civilised streets of York coming to (ignoring the Romans and Vikings, the besieged Jews committing mass suicide in Clifford’s Tower (1190), or Edward IV impaling rivals’ heads on Micklegate Bar after the battle of Towton in 1461?)
Why weren’t these young whelps where they belonged on a Friday afternoon in school term-time, learning their times-tables; being taught what verbs, adjectives and nouns are?
Being one of those curious, investigative types of journalist, I edged closer. Aha! The yellow hi-vis wearing ‘adults’ who were wide-eyed and exultant at their young proteges’ chanting, were clearly their teachers – the 9am-4pm guardians of these impressionable young souls.
I approached two of them, gripping their protestors’ placards like a nervous new bride might clasp her marital nightie. Unlike her, they looked to be in raptures.
“Oy pal, has someone cancelled lessons this aft?” I inquired. “Shouldn’t they be in school?”
Clearly not. The children were “finding their environmental voices,” and wasn’t it “absolutely wonderful”?
I demurred, taking my leave with a rather earthy Anglo-Saxon riposte.
* “System change not climate change” the children were supposedly chanting, in protest at how we adults are killing their planet. They clearly don’t have elocution lessons.
AND before you lot starting getting all hot and bothered, yes I really do think we should all be doing our utmost to recycle, cut carbon footprints and take better care of our planet.
But trust me, old Mother Earth will be around a long time after mankind has departed the scene.
Sensible bio and geological education of children is one thing; mad-left indoctrination is another. But can I ask a question: When is the last recorded instance of human death by plastic bottle (not including any 2l Tango bottles filled with quick-drying cement and used as a makeshift bludgeon)?
I’m sorry for all the marine life choked or strangled by plastic items discarded by thoughtless human beings, I really am. It’s a problem which should be taken seriously – by everyone on the planet. That’s plain common sense, but instead it’s become a cause owned by either anarchists and far-left zealots or mostly harmless Greenies. And neither of them ‘do’ common sense much.
They won’t be happy until they’ve made England pay for being the Satanic force behind the carbon-based Industrial Revolution. They’d consider us huddled round camp fires, living on nuts and berries as fair payback – and no matter if eliminating the UK’s entire carbon footprint equated to about six months of Chinese industrial growth.
They can’t make a blind bit of difference to the real polluters around the world, but in this country they’re indulged and allowed to shut down city centres, disrupt railway services, airports, and contaminate children’s minds in the name of their pious cause.
I admit that I would rather see one of these extinction Rebellion nutters being choked by a discarded lager 6-pack ring than Flipper the dolphin, or Nemo and Dory, although merely saying that is likely to paint a bullseye on my own back.
Jo Brand can poisonously suggest that Nigel Farage should have acid thrown over him as opposed to a milkshake, but that’s ok – it’s left-wing ‘comedy’. Dissent from the tree-huggers and go stand in the corner with all of the other labelled phobes (Climaphobe – can I copyright that? Or Greenophobe?)
The plain and simple fact is that plastic doesn’t kill our fishy friends – it’s thoughtless people who kill them, who dispose of their rubbish with wanton disregard for the consequences.
Plastic discarded safely is recyclable in most of its forms and can even be turned into a bio-fuel. Wow, ‘green’ plastic, who would ever have thought?
It is not the enemy. Human beings are the enemy – and the truth now being out there, I look forward to my next walk through York to find a mob of young zealots screaming as one: “Waddawewan?” “Peeperlchain!”
I DESPAIR, I really do.
The highest office of British state has become a tawdry version of the Big Brother house, or maybe Love Island (and I admit to never having watched it – I’d poke my own eyes out first).
Strictly Come Downing (Street) starring Boris and Jeremy. They both get a big fat ‘zero’ from this judge.
The mistake Boris Johnson made in refusing to parade like a chained bear before Sky TV’s circus cameras this week, was in not refusing to do the same for the BBC, ITV, national radio, local radio ... indeed any journalist thrusting a microphone at him.
Blank ‘em, Boris! They are not interested in your ideas or policies; they are all, to a man and woman, just wanting to draw blood – your blood. Sad to say, that’s how far my profession has fallen.
I understand his desperate rival Jeremy Hunt giving thanks to the spying neighbours who snitched on Boris to Pravda – sorry, The Guardian (you got more truth in Pravda). Hunt is like Leonardo di Caprio at the end of Titanic, reaching up from the icy depths, hoping someone, anyone, will haul him out.
It’s not happening, Jeremy. You can’t be trusted. You are a slightly less-deluded version of Theresa May, that’s all, witnessed by the social media faux pas describing all Leave voters as ‘little Englanders’ (ie, almost racists). Boom. That’s dropping your Strictly dance partner on her head, pal. Throw the towel in now.
Do I think that makes Boris a suitable PM? Good Lord no! But unless I misunderstand, the 160,000 members of the Conservative Party get to pick their new leader and our next (however briefly) Prime Minister, which makes Boris’s ‘qualities’ no-one’s business but theirs. He can and will talk to them and should give all his mainstream media haters a wide berth.
We’ll get our turn as and when he has to stand before the entire nation – and that’s a different gig altogether.
As it stands, he’ll pick up the most poisoned chalice since the one handed to Winston Churchill in 1940, so good luck to whomever gets that task.
What do I think of him? I think that he’s as egotistical, duplicitous and narcissistic as Theresa May, David Cameron, Gordon Brown, Tony Blair, Donald Trump, Barack Obama, George W Bush, Bill Clinton … anyone see a theme emerging?
Get the job done, and most people won’t care.
I’VE not been out and about much, so I must have missed the public condemnations and condolences from our local politicians, following the 99 (and counting) arrests over child sexual exploitation in Dewsbury and Batley.
Given her shadow ministerial brief in education, I imagine Tracy Brabin went ballistic at news of the latest 44 arrests. And just to think – the police haven’t even started on the 2009-2019 offenders yet. With the scathing recent independent report highlighting Kirklees Council’s failings, Coun Shabir Pandor has obviously resigned as leader, yes?
What’s that you say? “No”? Not a single one of them has raised their head above the parapet to utter a single public word about what could end up being an unparalelled public scandal? I wonder why on earth that would be...?