One of the joys of 2016 has been watching the stuffy rules of public debate get stripped away. For example, this week Brendan Cox suggested it was dangerous to blame politicians who helped immigrants for outrages such as the one in Berlin. A couple of years ago we'd have respected the opinion of a man whose immigrant-helping wife had recently been murdered. Not anymore.
Nigel Farage said Brendan Cox “supports extremist organisations,” and Ukip supporter James Delingpole asked, “When are we allowed to say Brendan Cox is an arse?”
At last someone has dared to say what all decent people are thinking, that men whose wives were murdered should stop whining, and get on with selling dresses on eBay.
Then they can leave important issues to people who understand them because they’ve been in a lift with Donald Trump.
There has always been a consensus that when someone is grieving, especially after a brutal murder, that it’s polite to take their suffering into account before publicly insulting them a few months after the tragedy. This goes to show what a poncey effeminate society we’ve become.
When Britain was a great power, if your wife was murdered you swept her up and got over it by invading Kenya.
Now we can get back to those times, so instead of the usual turgid predictable speeches at funerals of murder victims, about how awful it is that someone so bright was brought down etc etc, we can invite Ukip members to liven things up by shouting into the coffin ‘you brought this on yourself, you traitorous liberal twat’.
Arron Banks, who funds Ukip, complained Brendan Cox “politicised his wife’s murder”. And isn’t that typical of the Metropolitan elite, as soon as their wife, known for giving assistance to immigrants, gets murdered by an anti-immigrant fascist yelling, “Give us back our country” in the middle of a referendum in which the main issue is immigration, the grieving idiot claims the murder had something to do with immigration.
He should be more like Ukip, who always respond to murders, whether in Paris or Berlin or Tunisia by issuing a statement that goes, “What a shame. The main thing is not to apportion blame but find ways of all getting along.”
Nigel Farage explained, “I’m sorry Mr Cox, but it’s time people started taking responsibility for what happened.” And while we may be too politically correct to admit it, the people who should take responsibility more than anyone are the families of murder victims. On and on and on they go, with their flowers round railings and Christmas singles, with not a thought for how that annoys those of us who HAVEN’T been widowed.
It’s got to the point where all you have to do is get someone to murder your wife, then you can bask in the glory of having hundreds of people read your comments on Twitter. It’s an easy way to get noticed.
The extremist organisation Brendan Cox supports is Hope not Hate, campaigners against fascism. It’s fair to categorise them as extremist, as they are completely opposed to fascism, whereas they could take a more moderate approach and be against it on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Even their name proves they’re extreme. Instead of compromising between hope and hate, it has to be all one and none of the other.
Even our pantomimes prove we’re unfairly biased against hate, all about how marvellous hope is while hate is always the villain. If we were impartial, there would be a Cinderella in which she fits the slipper, marries the Prince, then gets stabbed to death by the ugly sisters, and when the Prince announces this is a dreadful calamity brought about by jealousy, Ukip supporters shout “WHEN ARE WE ALLOWED TO SAY CHARMING IS AN ARSE?”
So now we face the inevitable backlash, because if you tell the white working class they’re no longer allowed to squash dog mess through a Somalian’s letter box, is it any wonder that eventually they snap?
We’ve become so beholden to facts, that we’re too afraid to state something is true just because we’ve made it up. Politicians are literally scared to say our fish stocks have been destroyed because they’ve all been squashed by drowning immigrants.
Or five million Nepalese tribesmen come here every day, costing the NHS a million pounds a minute as we’re obliged to straighten out the matted hair on their yaks.
This is the service that Farage and Trump have carried out for us, they’ve changed the rules of what is acceptable and normal. All that was once considered an electoral disaster is now seen as fair and ‘anti-establishment’.
In the next TV debate, Farage could answer a question on transport by saying, “I don’t want to get bogged down in details about infrastructure, but what I shall do is put this hamster in a liquidiser.”
Then he can at last return us to the British Christian values we’ve lost, as illustrated in the tale we all recall at this time of year, in the story of the birth of baby Jesus. Because what we learn is that the innkeeper told Joseph and Mary there was no room at the inn, and as a result the other guests had a marvellous night’s sleep without being woken up by howling and screaming from some old immigrant tart giving birth to a do-gooding Jew, coming to Bethlehem disrupting our hay, instead of staying in Nazareth where they belong.
And after Herod’s command ordering the slaughter of their first-born, all the grieving parents were arses, moany whinging liberal anti-Roman traitorous arses.