HAVE we ever known such confusing times, politically, socially, environmentally (or simply ‘mentally’)? It’s a wonder we’re not all queueing up at the madhouse door.
Everyone’s getting a serving today, so don’t despair if you’re a Labour/Leave voter agonising over whether you can bring yourself to vote for whimpering Jeremy Corbyn.
Such voters’ other problem is that their excellent constituency Labour MP helped get gran a council flat – while obviously considering Leave voters pig-thick bigots and howling that we’ll depart the EU over their dead body.
What on earth do you do?
Those tormented Labour voters are not alone in this maze of electoral uncertainty. Take the Liberal Democrats for example (and I instantly hear people shout ‘please, take Jo Swinson somewhere far, far away’ – many of them kind-hearted Liberal Democrats).
If the rest of society possessed the Marvel superhero Cyclops’s power of x-ray vision, you would be able to identify Lib Dem die-softs walking along the street (you can never describe a sweet-hearted Lib Dem person as a die-hard; not a mean, uncharitable bone in their bodies).
Even without first noting the sensible shoes and cardigan with leather-patched elbows, your x-ray eyes would spot the rose-tinted spectacles invisible to other mortals.
They live in a wonderful world, our Lib Dem brethren, where it’s pure coincidence that nine out of 10 asylum seekers are single men in their 20s, all with iPhones and able to afford £10,000 bungs to people traffickers, while their mothers and sisters starve in squalor in some distant land. Come on in folks, make yourselves at home in our land of boundless bounty!
How could there possibly be any polling station perplexities for such simplistic souls as Lib Dems? It’s a quick-tick of their candidate’s box, before they head off to volunteer at the food bank – turning an innocent-eye to the 18-stone single mum who bundles out of a taxi (she can’t get to the bus stop in her condition) loads up her shopping bag, takes a call on her mobile, then lumbers back out to the cab and home. I say home, although apparently there’s a great black market in second-hand food bank gear. And I’m not kidding there.
But a kind-hearted Lib Dem could never countenance such behaviour – unless that is they actually put some value in the ‘Democrat’ part of Liberal Democrat.
Cancel Brexit outright? Not even the pretence of a second referendum? No matter that millions would rather cancel Christmas than Brexit, their fanatical leader Jo Swinson believes she has found a cold, calculating, electoral niche. She can ignore 17.4m uneducated racists, because the 48% of enlightened Remainers clearly have to go with the Lib Dems, don’t they? Number 10, here Jo comes!
But do they? Or are there more shades of dark and light amongst the Lib Dem rank and file (and other Remainers) than that rose-tinted myopia suggests? She’ll find out soon enough – and be forgotten possibly even quicker than Menzies (it’s pronounced Ming) Campbell, Nick (fill my boots) Clegg, Vince (away with the fairies) Cable, and Tim (who?) Farron.
WHICH brings us to the party that has spent the thick end of 10 years trying to cancel Christmas, Brexit and the fiscal deficit, while attempting to nobble each other in a back-stabbing manner befitting Stalin’s Politburo.
The Tories have failed on each and every count – thankfully in some instances but sadly in others.
My, what a horrible bunch they are. Hen-pecked Michael Gove did the old ‘et tu Brutus’ on Boris, who passed-the-parcel to Theresa May, who cocked her leg over the entire Cabinet, who then spent 18 months wrestling about in Westminster’s cesspit trying to dirty or drown (or both) each other before kissing and making up out of cynical necessity.
(In Boris’s case it seems there’s an awful lot of kissing but very little making up, although thankfully it was mostly in Londontown’s back streets and bordellos).
And now here the bumbling old lothario is, two weeks from election day, offering combinations of Jeremy/Jo’s imaginary money trees, while thanking his lucky stars that Randy Prince Andy’s vile shenanigans make his gadding-about look like sitting on Santa’s knee as opposed to Jimmy Savile’s.
But what of the ‘poor’ (pun intended) Tory voters, who of all camp followers are most adept at holding their noses and voting despite everything for their chap or chapess? A great many Tories (plenty with business interests not coincidentally EU-wide) voted Remain, and yet their man Boris remains intent on getting Brexit done, damn his eyes and their share options.
You could imagine those conflicted Tories voting Lib Dem at a push, but not for a Labour party that’s intent on asset-stripping them, both personally and corporately.
What a conundrum.
The Greens? I was going to say we don’t need to worry about the radical wing of the Lib Dems, but given how the great mass of the electorate must be in such a head-thumping quandary, maybe a vote to save the planet will unexpectedly hold sway.
I doubt that they’d make any more difference than the others in respect of saving the planet, because it’s like mosquitos campaigning to turn the animal kingdom vegetarian – but at least voters could all feel smarmingly pleased with themselves.
OUR courts have been interesting places in the ongoing battle for minority supremacy, if that isn’t too much of a contradiction in terms. Seems it’s first blood to the sexual liberators in the war of words and philosophies between the gender fantasists and Islam.
That’s a rare judicial setback for the UK’s future ruling religio-societal class – and if you don’t believe me, just cast a glance at the latest UN studies on sustainable western populations. I suspect the LGBTQi-xyz lobby need to celebrate their minor victories while they can.
A judge has ruled against Muslim parents who have turned a Birmingham primary school into a protest zone against teaching transgender issues.
So far, on everything from barbaric halal practices to mass sexual misogyny, British authorities have been typically, but not surprisingly, mute.
Judges pass sentences on the rape gangs while local authorities nod sagely and mutter “lessons have been learned”. But always too late and never with any actual redress on the directors, managers and social workers who presided over this child holocaust.
My partial sympathies at least are with the protesting parents, because I barely trust millennial teachers to develop ABC-123 skills without a politically correct agenda attached.
Get them on a proper hobby horse and vulnerable young minds are going to be twisted all sorts of ways. And no, that’s no prejudice whatsoever, by the way, but these quasi-liberal causes are turned into fashion statements by the Left’s soft-headed ultras – and I don’t know about you, but I grew out of my high-waisted Oxford bags and platform shoes a long time ago. It’s not that easy to grow out of a pre-pubescent sex change.
Let the kids grow up in their own time and space, and let their personal needs be met and respected as they emerge – and not because young Sam-antha suddenly wants to impress Sir.
In closing and to explain ‘victory no.2’, I might in the past have introduce this piece as a battle between Muzzies and Trannies, not believing such a casual shortform necessarily insulting. My caution would normally be fuelled by the actions of Humberside Police, who cautioned a man for Tweeting something he found funny about gender issues, at which Plod came at a gallop (probably ignoring a mugging, robbery and drug deal on the way). Plod actually accepted his jokey tweet was not hateful – but was being recorded as a hate crime anyway. Because that’s their job these days. The Plods have tried to defend their ridiculous PC-mania in court, where my new hero Mr Justice Knowles (pictured) very sensibly tore them a new wotsit. Could the tide of common sense possibly be turning? I won’t hold my breath. Sorry, got to go. There’s a forceful pounding on my front door…