Vice Precedents

The last US president to hold office (the verb serve seems hardly apt in the present context) for two non-consecutive terms was Grover Cleveland in the late nineteenth century. A biographer said that Cleveland "had no endowments that thousands of men do not have. He possessed honesty, courage, firmness, independence, and common sense. But he possessed them to a degree other men do not." It is fitting that the first president to duplicate Cleveland's electoral achievement should not only possess none of those qualities, but should lack them to a degree other men do not. Cleveland's personal reputation remained high despite an unsuccessful second term; the Trumpster has gained a second term with a personal reputation that is high in a more fly-blown and olfactory fashion. Cleveland was a conservative in the antiquated sense of one who aspires to conserve; the Trumpster is a conservative in the modern sense of one who aspires to fascism. After his second presidency, Cleveland joined a law firm; after the Trumpster's second presidency, the law is likely to be more infirm than for quite some time.

The last US president to be black turned out to be a bland technocrat whose tenure precipitated a Trumpster term of office. The last US vice-president to be black has contrived to duplicate that achievement.

Unworthy Foes

One of the major difficulties with being the master race, especially when uttering oracular threats to stir up a bit of rah-rah for World War III, is that official enemies are necessarily contradictory. They are existential threats, like the Palestinian civilians confronting the Middle East's sole nuclear power; but they are also bungling clowns, like the mad mullahs whose measured and proportionate responses to the Netanyahoo's efforts at starting a regional conflagration have recently made Iran such an international laughing-stock. Similarly, the deployment of North Korean troops in the Ukraine war has been characterised as both a sign of desperate weakness and a grave escalation; the latter primarily because the World Cop reserves the right to inflict apocalyptic punishment upon the Heathen Chinee should their ally misbehave unduly. Mere days later, Britain's leading liberal newspaper has felt obliged to balance out the stern pronouncements of the Secretary of State by rounding up a defector or two and producing an analysis which proclaims the North Korean contingent to be inexperienced, parasite-ridden, trained for the wrong terrain, farcically killable and, in stark contrast to the average NATO squaddie, quite possibly somewhat deceived as to the nature of the cause for which they fight. Clearly, a master race that feels threatened by so pitiful a rabble must be very masterful indeed.

Yet More Conspirators Unmasked

Not even the most raunchily radioactive head-tribble can hope to control every movement of its minions every moment of the day, and it appears that the board of directors at Trumpster Media has committed a slight indiscretion. The company, which owns the amusingly double-misnomered Truth Social globberware platform, has provoked squeals of rage from its more patriotic staff by outsourcing jobs to the drug-dealing, cheerleader-ravishing Latino Untermenschen. Given the Trumpster's famously rigid consistency in principle, word and action, this can only mean that the saviour of the nation and protector of womenfolk whether they like it or not may soon be forced into slapping punitive tariffs on his own produce. Were it not for the Trumpsterite base voter's virtuous aversion to hormonal re-orientation in the face of mere reality, there might even be reason to anticipate the exquisitely poetic outcome of an election loss through insufficient racism.

Love is Blind

In the eternal hierarchy of ways in which people make fools of themselves, the position of sex is at least as illustrious as those of religion and politics, and therefore no rational intelligence would be surprised that sex is at least as amenable as the others to entrepreneurial exploitation. Hence Britain's leading liberal newspaper, which holds the powerful to account while owing its existence to their advertising, is amazed, aghast and shocked to discover that the capitalist affair of online dating is geared primarily to profit. Procuring via mobile phone has ceased to be the innocent, romantic business of days past and has become a mere means of extracting revenue, for all the world as if making money rather than churning out happy couples were the whole point of the enterprise. Indeed, given that all three elements in the trinity of human idiocy are transcendently enshrined in family values, the fact that the proper functioning of the enterprise results in fewer and not more happy couples may well come as the greatest shock of all.

Season's Brexit Blessings

Midway between All Hallows' Eve and the rah-rah over the torture and execution of a failed parliamentary reformer means, of course, that the corporate calendar is at least half-way through the annual Christmas season. Like many other aspects of British life, the Saccharine Solstice has been affected by independence from the beastly Euro-scrooges. Owing to the Strasbrussels dictatorship's refusal to treat the UK as a member of the club just because the UK happens to have flounced out of the club, the great British Christmas tree is now subject to expensive border checks whenever it is sufficiently British to be imported. Although shortages are unlikely this year, price rises may drive many to accept artificial substitutes and deprive themselves of the innocent seasonal pleasure of picking pine needles out of the carpet until midway through the chocolate egg sales. A few entrepreneurs on the mainland have started growing their own trees, which may spruce up the market should enough of them survive the floods, droughts, invasive species and moral panics which will inevitably enliven future festivities. Given that the tradition of exterminating trees for Christmas was introduced to the master race by the Euro-wog royal house of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, patriots will no doubt rejoice at this latest poetic victory.

Pop Queens

Art thieves, loosely speaking, have blasted their way into a Dutch gallery and stolen some Andy Warhol manufactures. The pieces belong to a series of garishly retouched official photographs of female monarchs who were on the throne at the time of production, imaginatively titled Reigning Queens. Two items were damaged and left behind as the miscreants made their getaway, having apparently found themselves unable to fit the booty into their vehicle. The damage might be a more serious matter were it not for the fact that the pieces had already been signed and numbered by the artist, loosely speaking, thereby rendering them already less mass-produced and more individual.

Slanderous Optimism

Difficult as it may be to believe given the robust state of reality around all matters concerning the US presidential election, it eppears that one of the candidates may have said the thing that is not. Among the more recent excretions of the head-tribble which were subsequently flatulated forth from the Trumpster's upper speechification sphincter was a pledge to protect women whether they like it or not: evidently by the usual method of subordinating their rights to the requirements of insensate cellular agglomerations, both those still resident in the uterus and those that should never have left it alive. The Trumpster's opponent opined that this chivalrous eructation was "offensive to everybody:" a blatant and presumably deliberate falsehood, since it is patently not offensive to Christian nationalists, Christian conservatives, Christian fundamentalists or Christian fascists. While the offence-taking capacities of such people are indubitably impressive, exceeding Matter in variety and rivalling Mind in futility, they do not stretch to moral indignation at limiting or abolishing the rights of women. Nor did Harris remain content with promulgating one dastardly deception. Owing no doubt to her own womanly predilections, she compounded the calumny against the Trumpster, his head-tribble and Baby Jesus by stating outright that the former president, of all things, "thinks about women and their agency."

Are There No Carrier Pigeons?

Private sector efficiency has made itself felt in the provinces, where testimony from a rail company operating somewhere north of Westminster has made an extraordinary committee meeting slightly more extraordinary than was anticipated. Asked about the latest round of delays and cancellations, company officials admitted, in the course of whining that something might be done eventually given sufficient time and incentive, that communications with the expendables who crew their trains are still reliant on fax machines. For readers below a certain age, fax machines were a primitive species of telecommunications device which combined the convenience of a non-mobile telephone with the efficiency of a Steam Age inkjet printer, and which were standard in offices about the time the whining interregnum John Major split up the national railway network and sold it off piecemeal some three decades ago. Apparently any change to digital technology would involve coming to some arrangement with the unions, which is clearly unreasonable; while tree-hugging woke legalism has thus far prevented our public transport élite from having their messages taken back and forth in cleft sticks.

Decisive Action

After only a little more than a year of ethnic cleansing and international aggression, and civilian casualties barely in excess of forty thousand lives, one or two bastions of the free world are beginning to wonder if perhaps the Righteous State might be overdoing things a bit, and whether it might perhaps be well advised to ease off a little for its own good. A flunkey for Team Starmer even went so far as to fret that Israel's reputation as a democracy could suffer, which would not be in Israel's interests and would therefore be a Very Bad Thing. We are all aware that the Righteous State's sacred right to self-defence trumps all considerations of international law; but the Knesset's vote to blacklist the main relief agency immediarely after a Team Starmer flunkey warned against it has caused some countries to consider the possibility of subjecting trade ties to review, or even of issuing notice that one or two wrists may be slapped should the situation be allowed to deteriorate unacceptably further. Let nobody say the world sat back and did nothing.

Money Isn't Everything

As has been demonstrated by the vote for independence from the beastly Euro-wogs, and the continuing disinclination to resume even a modified market share of the Strasbrussels yoke, there are few financial sacrifices the great British nation will not make on a point of principle. This precious cultural virtue is once more apparent in a report which observes that £19,000 million in economic growth is being lost through lack of social mobility. The lower orders are finding it increasingly difficult to avail themselves of university education, while apprenticeships remain under-funded so as not to promote laziness; hence people from less wealthy backgrounds are earning thousands a year less than hard-working families and are correspondingly less likely to sully decent neighbourhoods by crawling too high on the property ladder. Strangely enough, the compilers of the report seem to think there is something in this situation that ought to be changed. The country that voted to knock half a dozen percentage points off its GDP in order to show Johnny Foreigner what's what is hardly likely to begrudge a few thousands of millions to keep the rabble in their place.