Join Up and See the World

Given the Recrudescent Imperium's dedication to democracy, from Trump-licker Tessie in Washington through the vole-brained former Minister for Werritty in the Philippines to the glorious business relationship with the head-chopping House of Saud and various diplomatic comparisons of the Euro-wogs with Stalin and the Nazis, it should come as no surprise that Jeremy Rhymes-with-Hunt has conceived an ambition for Britain to become an invisible chain of democracy, a sort of global leg-iron to keep all the appropriate freedoms in place and make sure they don't do anything silly. To this end, a mere seven years after sacking much of its staff for being too expert, Her Majesty's Government has become vaguely aware of the need for some sort of commercial contact with the lesser breeds once Britain goes global next March. Accordingly, Jeremy Rhymes-with-Hunt is about to announce a new recruitment drive to ensure that the career prospects for chief executives of FTSE companies no longer suffer from the outdated prejudices of those who believe diplomacy should be conducted by the merely qualified. The Rhymes-with-Hunt initiative is sufficiently adulterated by reality to encompass the possibility of recruiting salespersons who speak wog; fortunately, eight years of educational reform and hostile environment have undoubtedly ensured that, apart from spies and suchlike useful people, very few linguistic citizens of nowhere remain in the country.

Clearing the Air

It's always refreshing to see a stereotype undermined, particularly when the object of the stereotype happens to be a sympathetic, downtrodden, underdoggy sort of person. Hence it is satisfying to note that capitalist corporations, those ever-friendly, ever-obliging global citizens who are yet so repressed that they can hardly afford to pay any tax at all, have been exonerated by the World Health Organisation of the myopically self-centred and destructive short-termism with which they are still frequently charged by society's more ignorant and backsliding elements. More than ninety per cent of the world's children are now breathing air of a quality that will sell more inhalers and aid Big Brother Pharma, while ensuring that the voter-consumers of tomorrow will be equipped with mental powers appropriate to their function. It is to be hoped that our far-sighted yet constantly underprivileged overlords will one day find themselves sucking up some fitting display of gratitude.

Order and Progress

Isn't democracy a wonderful thing? In these ever more certain times, we cannot help but be reassured that more than half the voters in a fledgling democracy have displayed a maturity and coolness of judgement to rival that of the official greatest country in the world further north, or even our own Mother of Electorates. Like those exemplary populations, Brazilians have decided that the best solution for corruption is the removal of oversight; that the best way to protect their rights is to assault the rights of those less powerful than themselves; and that the problem of keeping the planet habitable is rather less urgent than the virtuous need to vent their personal indignation. Let's hope they enjoy it.

Bad Theology

Text for today: Matthew 18 xv-xxii

Jesus decrees that any disciple with a grievance against a fellow disciple should first approach them in private. If the offender does not listen, the approach should be made again in company. If the offender still does not listen, they should be reported to the church, and if they do not listen to the church they must be treated as a non-Jew and a tax collector. Jesus then tells the disciples that their actions on earth will be reflected in heaven, and that if any two of them can ever manage to agree on what they want the Father will grant it to them. When Peter asks if a straying fellow-cultist should be forgiven as many as seven times, Jesus responds that one should forgive seventy-seven times.

Jesus here sets out His cult's official complaints procedure. In the happily temporary absence of ultimate judgement and outer darkness with wailing and gnashing of teeth, quarrels among the disciples must be settled among themselves, with the numerically greater and therefore noisier faction prevailing. Jesus thus anticipates and recommends the eventual devil's bargain between one of the Church's more noisily intolerant factions and the Roman Empire, whose capacity for policing and persecution did so much to promulgate the Father's brand of forgiveness.

Although Jesus enjoins His disciples to set no limits on the number of times they forgive each other, it is obvious from the context that forgiveness, as in the kingdom of Heaven, must be conditional on the surrender and repentance of the defeated party. Nevertheless, once pressure of numbers and the threat of ostracism have worked their ineffable magic, the straying disciple must be accepted back into the sheep-fold as if nothing had happened, even to the extent of being allowed to sin again. Jesus and His Father are entirely unconcerned with the potential victims of repeated sinful behaviour: as Jesus takes care to emphasise with His flattering remarks about the disciples' power in Heaven, what matters is that the sins of God's chosen can always be discreetly smoothed over until the day arrives for the rest of us to be burned.

Coming Soon

The Ultimate Threat

Voting against Tumbledown Tessie's dead-horse Brexit deal could leave the Argies free to retake the Falkland Islands, the Prime Minister's allies are expected to squeal in forthcoming negotiations between the Conservative Party's various factions. The Argie foreign minister has suggested that leaving the EU would cause Britain to give up certain privileges of belonging to the EU: a self-evident absurdity of such blatant mendaciousness that the Euro-wogs themselves have been insisting on it since the Conservative Party started barking orders at them. In 1982 the islands were invaded by Argentina, which lies just off the coast of West Falkland and retaken personally in a historic military campaign by Margaret Thatcher, the well-known contemporary incarnation of Winston Churchill and admirer of Argie neighbour General Pinochet. Fortunately, Tumbledown Tessie herself is due to visit Argentina, doubtless in order to set the final seal on whatever brilliant deals her vole-brained former Minister for Werritty has negotiated for selling our corned beef and authentic gaucho costumes; so presumably, if the Argies know what is good for them, everything will be sorted out then.

Opportunity

As was demonstrated in the assignment and corresponding casualty rates of African Americans in Vietnam, the infantry is where great democracies traditionally utilise their more dispensable citizens. Although Her Majesty's Government has no particular interest in helping women protect themselves from harassment or violence, let alone in ensuring they receive proper reimbursement for the work they do, it is willing to permit them the privilege of dying for their country. Since 11 November is off limits for some reason, the post-pubescent Minister for Wog-Bombing took advantage of the Yuletidesque backward extension of the poppy season to show off a bit in front of the girls. During a St Crispin's Day willy-waving ceremony, he proclaimed that female soldiers will soon be granted access to the full spectrum of military roles, from jailed PTSD sufferer through forgotten wounded to flag-draped body-bag full of best rabble-rousing rah-rah. It is certainly reassuring that the idea of gender equality has begun to obtrude itself upon the Conservative consciousness; it remains to be seen how many women in the non-dispensable classes will rush to volunteer.

Ideological Convergence

Another Conservative has tried for the mantle of Winston Churchill by comparing socialists to Nazis. Britain's official greatest son famously ordered the plebs to vote for himself on the grounds that a Labour government would set up a Gestapo; the European parliamentary expenses claimant Syed Kamall blathered that Nazism was a left-wing ideology, apparently on the grounds that Nazi is short for National Socialist. Given the Nazis' notorious reverence for truth and their nearly right-wing prejudice against jumping into bed with capitalists, the point might seem hardly worth arguing; but some uncharitable Euro-wogs made a lot of noise and Kamall was forced to give out the usual non-apology for "offence caused" to snowflake lefty sensibilities. Doubtless wishing for a poppy to fondle, he also proclaimed his respect for anyone who opposes extremists, with the unspoken but obvious exception of that nice Viktor Orbán, whose antisemitism Kamall and his colleagues happily endorsed in a vote last month.

Nice and Cosy

Such is the Government's zeal to accommodate the deserving vulnerable, that a database for protecting rogue landlords remains secure after six months even in the face of ministers' famously pitiable levels of competence at operating electronic computing machines. The database does not include a single name so far, and when names are eventually added the public will not be able to see them: a measure which will free landlords across the nation from the inconvenient and humiliating need to operate in line with some arbitrary, and quite possibly foreign, standard of fitness for human habitation. Even the reasons for keeping the database secret are being kept secret, because their disclosure would darken and diminish that most luminous and inviolable guiding light of the ministerial consciousness, the public interest. The question of how many rogue landlords are supporters of the Conservative Party is, of course, unworthy of any sane and civilised political discourse.

Free Speech

With all the splits and ruptures cracking our national unity, true patriots will be comforted to observe an emerging consensus in the moderate mainstream. Downing Street and a Theresa May wannabe have reached a cordial agreement to the effect that "dehumanising or derogatory" language has no place in politics, except when it is applied to Asian paedophiles, economic refugees, citizens of nowhere, shirkers, antisemites and other deserving cases. The Conservative Party, it appears, is full of people who deeply and sincerely believe in capital punishment; many of them also favour corporal punishment according to the predilections of their chums in the head-chopping House of Saud, and doubtless the more traditionally-minded among them have nothing in particular against burning difficult women at the stake. Undoubtedly they share with the Blairites a staunch faith in the pleasurable efficacy of torture. Since they believe that the dead-eyed warden is a traitor, and that traitors should be decapitated, drawn and quartered, or simply strung up live on Murdochvision, their talk of knives and nooses is not only eminently reasonable; it is dictated by the logic of their position. Given that the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK has done so much to help normalise the use of such language against those with fewer bodyguards than she has, it is certainly courageous of her to register objections now that the verbal violence has recoiled upon herself.

Bad Theology

Text for today: Mark 3 xxi-xxxv

As Jesus begins to expand His cult, His family worry about His sanity. Some scribes from Jerusalem claim that Jesus is possessed and that His power to cast out devils comes from the prince of devils. Jesus responds that Satan cannot cast himself out and that a divided kingdom must inevitably be defeated. He further states that all sins and blasphemies will be forgiven except for blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, which is an eternal sin. He says this because people are saying that He has an unclean spirit, and when His family arrive He proclaims that anyone who does the will of His Father in heaven is His family.

In responding to the scribes' diagnosis, Jesus answers a charge which has not been made, and even the answer He gives is hardly convincing. The claim of the scribes is merely that lesser devils can be induced to depart by the power of a greater devil: rather like a centurion's subordinates going where he tells them, regardless of their own preferences, because the centurion has a more complete idea of how the battle is going. Furthermore, if Satan can enter a person at will, then presumably he can also leave at will; therefore he can certainly "cast himself out" should a tactical retreat be necessary.

The scribes' diagnosis is the same as that of Jesus' own family, who are afraid He is out of His mind and have just tried to remove Him from the crowd of His followers. As usual when anyone argues with His claims of divinity (cf. Mark 8 xxxiii), Jesus responds by lashing out viciously at His interlocutors, first consigning the scribes to eternal damnation through their unforgivable sin of failing to share His own exalted opinion of the spirit that possesses Him, and then disowning His family in favour of anyone who follows His doctrine.

Air of Disunity

Yet another ghastly cabal of wogs has administered yet more Nazi-style punishment to Britain's plucky little rulers, this time over the inalienable democratic right of the Conservative Party to poison the plebs. The Johnson Doctrine, so successfully practised by the London Haystack of that name, has resulted in the culling of up to fifty thousand expendables, and continues to play a major role in ensuring that the schoolchildren of today will grow up with sufficient cerebral capacity to qualify as the responsible voters of tomorrow. Nevertheless, despite Her Majesty's Government's sniggering pledge to start taking measures in a couple of decades' time, the unelected bureaucrats at the United Nations continue their nit-picking and cavilling about Britain's mere legal obligations, and thereby perversely continue in their determination to be out of step with the mainland.

Narrow Bores

Since Her Majesty's Government is far too concerned with its fiscal responsibilities towards those efficient G4S people to think of handing the police sufficient money to do their job, the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK has evidently been flailing about in search of an appropriately empty gesture of appeasement. She has settled on granting a police request to ban .50-calibre rifles, which haven't been seen in criminal hands since the IRA disarmed. Given the eagerness of certain parties to dump the Good Friday agreements and re-ignite the rah-rah that was the Troubles, a ban might seem a reasonable idea if it happened that terrorists generally obtain their weapons from license-holding sports shooters, rather than from the kind of people who flood Middle Eastern countries with guns and motivation in the name of legitimate business interests. Fortunately for the great and law-abiding British nation, such considerations are irrelevant to the true believers in the magical wog-smashing bullet that is Brexit, who have decided to vote against the police as a rebuke to the dead-eyed warden for lack of ideological purity.

Splashing Out for Business

Those who fear that Her Majesty's Government cares less about keeping the world habitable than about putting people in jail will no doubt derive boundless reassurance from the evidence that the Government is overseeing the country's recycling industry with almost as much interest as it showed when throwing taxpayers' money at those nice people from Serco and G4S in return for tracking the movements of dead criminals. As usual where nice people as opposed to experts are involved, the jabbering homunculus Michael Gove has been content to sit back and allow the companies responsible for exporting plastic waste to mark their own homework. In spite of this regulatory rigour, discrepancies have somehow arisen between the amounts supposedly exported and the amounts recorded by HM Customs; in January British plastic waste became officially too toxic for the Heathen Chinee and the exports were moved to Malaysia, Vietnam and Poland. In a fiendish paroxysm of foreign envy at our buccaneering entrepreneurialism, the first two have already imposed temporary bans, and the Poles are now thinking about doing something similar. In the end, or near it, and particularly under the eminently tough and pragmatic régime which the jabbering homunculus will ruthlessly implement once we are free of the Brussels yoke, the plastic waste will continue to end up at its natural home in the oceans. That will keep those beastly Euro-wogs away from stout British fish; and it is, after all, only the taxpayers' planet.

Artificial News

Rumours are afoot among the Heathen Chinee about plans to illuminate the city of Chengdu at night by means of an artificial satellite rather than conventional streetlights. The speculation appears to be newsworthy mainly on the grounds that the potential satellite is being compared to the moon, which is, as we know, American property. While the plans' feasibility and progress remain as yet unclear, the rumours are at least cogent enough to be patronised in Britain's leading liberal newspaper, whose correspondent apparently believes that artificial and fake are synonyms (cf. fake light, fake fibres, etc.), but does know how to trawl an archive for precedents: a frequently elusive skill in leading liberal journalists when it comes to wars, massacres and other colour stuff.

Astronomical Gains

We are all aware, because the parliamentary wing of the Farage Falange never tires of informing us, that our approaching independence from the Euro-wogs will mean liberty to trade with the whole world - a market which the Brusso-Strasbourgian axis has doubtless never even considered, being too busy strangling us with red tape and persecuting the innocent likes of Viktor Orbán. However, it seems the wider implications of Britain's new freedom to trade are still to be properly appreciated in all their cosmic magnitude. Although the research has been done by mere experts and is therefore subject to the usual legitimate doubts on grounds of patriotism, orders from Rupert Murdoch or simple stupidity, it is thought that collisions between neutron stars are flooding the universe with such marketable elements as gold, platinum and uranium. Our bracingly abrupt self-ejection from European scientific research programmes will of course give us a vital edge in exploiting this immense resource, particularly given the present Cabinet's high quota of extraterrestrial specimens. The risk of glutting the markets and causing prices to drop will also be well within our control, since it should be a simple matter to prevent overproduction. All that will be necessary is to prevent too many collisions, presumably at ministerial level by interposing between each pair of neutron stars a high-flying obstacle even denser than themselves.

Humane Intervention

Remembrance Sunday, particularly in a centenary year, must be among the more stressful events in the calendar of Her Majesty's Government. There is rah-rah to be organised, there are heretics to be criticised, and all dutiful citizens are required to maintain a proper degree of vigilance in denouncing any public figure who fails our forces in thought, word or poppy. Fortunately, the Ministry for Wog-Bombing and Telling Russia What's What has been considerate enough to try and lighten the burden, at least with regard to the festival's ostensible purpose of remembering the victims of war. Last year, partly to demonstrate the disapproval of Her Majesty's Government for head-chopping Islamic fundamentalists who don't happen to belong to the House of Saud, and partly to show that Britain's status as Washington's vassal remains unaffected by mere geopolitical reality, the Royal Air Force rained down security and stability upon the Syrian city of Raqqa. However, in over two hundred opportunities it managed to avoid harming a single civilian, whether because British bombs can distinguish terrorists from nice people or because the RAF limited its activities to property damage. This of course means that the work of remembrance on Remembrance Sunday has been correspondingly reduced, leaving all the more time out of the two minutes to concentrate on the important things.

Bad Theology

Text for today: Luke 17 v-vi

The apostles ask Jesus to increase their faith; Jesus responds that if they had faith like a grain of mustard seed, they could order a mulberry tree to be uprooted and planted in the sea, and the tree would obey.

Jesus implies that the faith which the apostles have is less than the amount required to perform miracles. Jesus here explicitly equates faith with power: those who believe in Him are permitted to uproot and destroy in HIs name, while those who lack such belief have only themselves to blame if they are unable to wreak havoc by similar means. Nevertheless, since their Father knows what His children need before they ask for it (Matthew 6 viii) but refuses to grant the apostles' request through His Son, God has evidently decided that, for the elect at least, a faith smaller than a grain of mustard seed is enough to be going on with.

Jesus has previously (Luke 13 xviii-xix) compared the kingdom of Heaven to a grain of mustard seed which a man sows in his garden, and which becomes a tree for the birds to nest in. By contrast, the seed which the apostles must somehow find within themselves is a destructive force which will uproot trees from where they can flourish and place them where they will drown and rot. As might be expected, in the former case Jesus was teaching at the synagogue and addressing the general population; while in the latter case He is addressing the elect, before whom He feels no need to water down the murderous violence of His doctrine.

Graybeing Wheels About

Three months after the briliiant Chris Graybeing published a strategy thingy for promoting low-emission vehicles, and three days after an urgent warning by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Her Majesty's Government has responded in expectable fashion, by increasing the prices of low-emission vehicles. Car manufacturers and dealers have lined up to express their dazzlement at the sheer intellectual incandescence of it all. According to the AA, the single most significant obstacle to people buying low-emission cars is the purchase price, so it is only natural that the brilliant Chris Graybeing should be adding thousands of pounds to the cost of electrical and hybrid vehicles. After all, despite the titanic efforts of the fiendish Brusso-Strasbourgian axis Britain's pounds are still pounds and not euros, and Britain's newly-independent drivers will want to celebrate that fact by spending all the more of them; not to mention the fact that the Government will need to claw back all the money it can get in order to incentivise tax-dodgers, shale-frackers and other wealth-creating chumlies.

Partial Reassurance

Even the Conservatives like to make some sort of show at being concerned with public health, especially when the political atmosphere is feverish with electoral speculation; so last summer, after only eight years of more or less open war on the National Health Service, the Minister for Wog Control relaxed the rules against medically-inclined foreigners coming over here and giving medical treatment to unsuspecting citizens. True-blooded patriots were duly reassured with the stipulation that the measure was purely temporary, and the implication that the usual purge and deportations would follow as soon as the racial composition of Britain's doctors and nurses attained a more satisfactory balance. However, the compliant Sajid Javid has now felt obliged to reassure various traitors and citizens of nowhere that he has no plans to re-hostilitise the environment, at least until the Government feels secure enough to start putting the boot in once more. Given what the present administration has achieved without the Stalinist fripperies of planning, it seems doubtful that the migrant-bashers will be bothered overmuch.

Graybeing Trucks it Up

Motorways in Kent are being closed off and turned into lorry parks because the Minister for Transport is convinced they will not be needed. The minister in question is, of course, the brilliant Chris Graybeing, who has added to his triumph by not telling anyone about it, including the local Conservative MP. The work, which is expected to double the length of journeys for lucky drivers, was apparently unplanned as recently as a week ago, but since then Graybeing has had a bit of a wave in his supra-oesophageal ganglion, resulting in all sorts of ructions inside that peculiar hollow dome which he wears above his suit. It is certainly reassuring to see Graybeing making sensible provision, even against a possibility so astronomically remote as Chris Graybeing getting something wrong; but the local MP apparently lacks the breadth of vision to see the matter in so charitable a light, especially as planning permission seems to have been waved through without the usual entertaining pretence of consultation with the proles. Graybeing has offered a placatory meeting; not with the proles, of course, but just a bit of a chat to reassure the local MP that the only people to be adversely affected will be illegal immigrants, road haulage operatives who just sit in cabs all day, and other Conservative Party non-donors. However, the director of policy at the Road Haulage Association has also taken a negative view, warning of dire consequences for people who have so far abandoned their Britishness as to live on perishable goods. If one didn't know any better or recall his glorious record in office, one might almost think some people were taking the brilliant Chris Graybeing for a fool.

He's Got the Little Bits of Baby on His Hands

With labour relations generally in a volatile state, it should come as no surprise that the Pope has plucked up sufficient courage to criticise the moral turpitude of his employer. Addressing his weekly congregation at St Peter's Square, Francis attacked the "contradictory approach to life [which] allows the suppression of human life in the mother’s womb in order to safeguard other values," and asked, "How can an act that suppresses an innocent and helpless life as it blossoms be therapeutic, civil or, simply, humane?" The Pope was referring to abortion, of course; and by grace of the God without whose will a sparrow cannot fall there are thousands of miscarriages every year, at the cost of great physical and emotional pain to women and their relatives and, in many cases, physical danger to the bereaved mothers. However belated or indirect the rebuke, it is certainly brave of Francis to confront his repulsive deity with at least some of His crimes, rather than carping at female autonomy and thereby pandering to all the coathanger fetishists in the Church and in Italian politics.

It Isn't Quite Only About the Money

Friendship, as the vole-brained former Minister for Werritty noted with regard to his chum Rodrigo Duterte, depends on shared values; hence the long, happy and profitable relationship between Her Majesty's Government and the head-chopping House of Saud. In their love of royalty, their reverence for tradition, their enthusiasm for wog-bombing and their respect for democracy, Britain's favourite Islamic fundamentalists are every bit the equals of the British Conservative Party, and of course quite unlike those ghastly Euro-wogs with their Soviet-style penchant for free movement, free trade and the rule of law. Accordingly, it is no doubt more in sorrow than in anger that Tin-Pot Tessie's current Minister for Wogs, Frogs and Huns has rebuked the head-chopping House of Saud over the disappearance and possible murder of a prominent journalist and well-known critic of the values of Jeremy Hunt. The Saudi royal family has apparently neglected to make even the slightest attempt at contriving some tenuous finger of blame to puff at Brussels, the Russians or Jeremy Corbyn. Even allowing for cultural differences, as the Conservatives are famously happy to do with regard to the right sort of people, such a blatant abuse of friendship can hardly go unchallenged.

They've Let Big School Down All Over Again

As might be expected from the people who thought the education of Britain's non-fee-paying children was best left to a few religious freaks and Toby Young, the Department for Education's statistical pronouncements have taken a somewhat mythographic turn. The national statistics watchdog, which is doubtless on the shortlist for privatisation and efficiency savings if not outright abolition, has reprimanded the Minister for Small Prole Control, Damian Hinds, complaining that it has written to the DfE on four separate occasions this year about the misuse of data, only for the Minister to continue failing to hand in his homework. Hinds' colleague Nick Gibb, the Minister for Targets and Teacher-Bashing, proclaimed last week that school spending in the UK was the third highest in the world: a figure he arrived at by including private school fees and university student loans. It is of course jolly encouraging that cutting expenditure on education is no longer seen as a self-evidently wonderful thing, on a par with eternal economic growth and letting brown people drown; but if the minister delivering the message cannot tell a nought from a nine, as happened when Gibb claimed that England had moved from nineteenth place to eighth in an international table of reading abilities among persons with a slightly higher mental age than Nick Gibb - well, then unfortunately the message is apt to become a little fogged.

Bad Theology

Text for today: John 17 viii-xii

Immediately before His arrest, Jesus addresses a long prayer to His Father, in the course of which He pronounces His mission on earth complete and states that He is praying only for the elect, who belong both to His Father and Himself.

Having informed His Father that His work is done, and that He has acquired disciples who believe in the Father, Jesus hastens to make clear that He is praying for these disciples only: He has no interest whatever in saving anyone whom the Father may have destined for outer darkness with wailing and gnashing of teeth. This is a shrewd and necessary manoeuvre to protect Himself from the Father's notorious jealousy, which has always led to the most unfortunate consequences for anyone who provokes it.

Jesus proclaims that the disciples belong both to the Father and to Himself, and boasts that He, Jesus, is glorified in them. This is normal enough rhetoric for an ambitious heir to a powerful ruler: while ostentatiously acknowledging the Father's supreme authority, Jesus also drops a hint about His own capabilities. In linking His glory with His work of recruiting disciples, Jesus reminds His Father of the reward which He feels He has earned by completing His errand of proclaiming the approaching purge of the Father's flawed and sinful creation. Jesus informs the Father that although He is no longer in the world, His disciples are still there, and requests the Father to look after them. The Son and hopeful heir thereby demonstrates His personal concern for the disciples as newly-acquired assets of the family business.

Emulating His Father, Jesus takes no responsibility for the flaws which the Father has built into His creation. Far from seeking to redeem the world, Jesus regards it as entirely separate from Himself, and as something from which, by His ministry, He has redeemed not quite all of His disciples. The exception is the betrayer, the "son of destruction" as opposed to the Father of fire and brimstone, who has damned himself throughout eternity for the evidently unforgivable crime of fulfilling the holy scriptures.

We Cannot Rest Content With Merely Halting the Ocker Genocide

...there is a distinction between an urn and a chamber-pot, and ... it is this distinction above all that provides culture with elbow room. The others, those who fail to make this distinction, are divided into those who use the urn as a chamber-pot and those who use the chamber-pot as an urn.
Karl Kraus

Now that the great Australian nation has been more or less thoroughly rescued from both immigrant invasion and Aboriginal subversion, the time has clearly come to complete the transition and bring the country's entire culture down to exactly the proper level. A roaring start has been made in New South Wales, where the state government has ordered Sydney Opera House to allow an application for advertising space by a horse-racing firm, much to the horror of the metropolitan élites. Given that the opera house's exterior is so well known, allowing it to go unused for moderate and sensible purposes would clearly be a criminal waste of potential; particularly at a time of straitened macro-economic circumstances when so many hard-working bookies are struggling to keep the thylacine from the door. On the other hand, it could simply be that the New South Wales state government is in ecstatic thrall to a right-wing loudmouth with the manners of a mugger and the cultural sensitivity of a treponeme, as regularly occurs with certain moderate and sensible politicians here on the mainland.

Pipe Down Or Else

A plucky little entrepreneur, whose name and profession are so British as to make him sound like something from a Carry On film, is suffering persecution from his local authority over his exercise of freedom of speech. Charlie Mullins, founder of Pimlico Plumbers and citizen of nowhere by Prime Ministerial decree, has been ordered to remove a Bollocks to Brexit sign from his premises near (where else but) Waterloo station, apparently on the grounds that Brexit is not relevant to business. There have also been complaints from commuters, who apparently are unaware that the word bollocks was ruled decent enough for advertising purposes more than forty years ago, thanks to the sterling efforts of the Sex Pistols and the creator of Rumpole of the Bailey. It remains as yet unclear whether the free, cantankerous British press will promote Mullins to cause célèbre with the same alacrity as it has promoted those free-speech enthusiasts who advocate a more robust attitude towards the lesser breeds.

Prime Cuts

Market forces have triumphed once more in the efficientised National Health Service, where another private company has made a few million in profit while failing to do its job. Various unwanted bits and pieces of NHS patients who can't yet afford to take the hint and go private have been kept in fridges by the amusingly-named Healthcare Environment Services Limited, because the company's services are too limited to dispose of them properly. Naturally, Healthcare Environment Services Limited has blamed the whole thing on the Government, which is too busy burning bridges with foreigners to think about incinerating stray portions of British prole; so the Minister for Health and Social Care Monetisation, Matt Hancock, has chaired a Cobra meeting, which is generally the first option for panicked Whitehall flunkeys with some malodorous buck to pass. Hancock has now borrowed some affordable accommodation for the anatomical inconveniences, and will soon be storing them up like the sort of bargain-basement Ed Gein his party seems to enjoy putting into high office these days. Matt Hancock's entrepreneurial gumption will no doubt receive its due reward, provided a lid can be kept on the matter until Britain escapes those beastly Euro-wog food hygiene regulations.

Uncle Shaun's Blabbing

Having scored, thanks to the populist brilliance of Zac Goldsmith, a decisive moral victory in the last London mayoral election, the Conservatives have carefully selected a charmer of equal merit as their new candidate. Unlike Sajid Javid, whose sole wish is to keep people like his own parents out of the country (the Hollywood origin story, complete with daddy issues, is no doubt already in pre-production), Shaun Bailey seems mainly interested in shifting the wog barrier from British versus Coloured to British versus Infidel. In a pamphlet written for a Thatcherite thick-tank a dozen years ago, Bailey proclaimed that the presence of Muslims and Hindus was robbing Britain of its community, and that their alien ethics and peculiar holidays would cause the country to slip into a crime-riddled cesspool. Black people, on the other hand, find it much easier to integrate because of their Christian faith and shared language, whose nuances are evidently impenetrable to the average Diwalic or Ramadanian swarming horde. Remarkably enough, the instigator of the Windrush persecutions and hostile environment has apparently endorsed Bailey "despite" his magnum opus rather than because of it.

Rejoice

More than thirty new British jobs have been saved in the Mediterranean, where a boat full of migrants has sunk along with two potential school-place stealers. The Spanish authorities were alerted to the boat's approximate location, but passed the information to the Moroccan authorities because the reported location was in Moroccan waters; and by the time anything was done thirty-six hours had passed in a state of some environmental hostility, with the usual fair, humane and economically-sustainable results. It remains as yet unclear whether the Conservative Party rah-and-blah was given the opportunity of rejoicing that the latest threat to Gibraltar has been neutralised.

Charitable Austerity Bureaucrats

Since the departure of the late Head Boy, who filled in the time between his prime-ministership and his pig-sticking days as an office boy in a PR firm, Her Majesty's Government has been woefully short on media skills. Even the presence of Murdoch goons like Jeremy Rhymes-with-Hunt and the jabbering homunculus Michael Gove has done little to counteract the general effect of dead-eyed affectlessness and gurning incompetence; and the Cabinet's closest approximation to a media performer now appears to be the Minister for Poor-bashing and Cripple-kicking. Esther McVey used to be on TV, which doubtless accounts for her brilliant public-relations wheeze that the fiasco of Universal Credit would be greatly improved if only the charitable sector as well as the Government could be implicated in all those wrongful refusals. "The state cannot, and should not work in isolation," babbled McVey at the Conservative Party rah-and-blah, "and must reach out to work with independent, trusted organisations to get the best support to vulnerable people." It would indeed be a most sinistral and Stalinist state of affairs if a Government department were actually to perform the function for which it was set up. Accordingly, in a few months' time, every underpayment, every deprivation, every order to get up and stack shelves at Poundland dispatched by the Department of Workfare and Privation to a cancer patient in their last coma, will be entirely the fault of the Citizens' Advice Bureau.