This ‘Ere Eupo

Now, my Darlin’s, ‘tis like this.

Other year we had a vote, see?  ‘Twas like ever’body got to ‘ave a say about how us felt about the immigrants an’ our sovinty an’ that, an’ we all turned out and we told ‘em, no uncertain fashion, like, what us thought we ought to do.  Leave that there European Onion thing from the Brussels!   Yes!   An’ it turns out we didn’t want nothin’ more to do wi’ no onions, and ‘ow we wanted to go out by ourselves.  Aye!

Well, turns out we were wrong, see?   ‘Cause all these ‘ere thinkin’ people says we should stay in, an’ ‘ow we faces certain ruin if we don’t.   An’ we says to ‘em, see, it was a Democratic Decishun, but they say that don’t count, ‘cause apparently they won’t get so much money if us makes ‘em leave, and they won’t be able to live in they there nice London apartments no more, or travel around this ‘ere Eurpoe to get better jobs, and stuff like that.   They says we bin lied ter, an’ un-screw-pew-lus people, they led us up the garden path, an’ that.  We jus’ voted ‘cause of the immigration, an’that.

So they goin’ to change wha’ we want to what they want, and that’s on’y fair, ‘cause we’m jus’ ord’nary people, ands not great and good like they is – are.

So, seems to me that all these ‘ere clever people, they on’y peddle that there Democracy to us when they want us to see things their way; and if we don’t, then they got to twist it about until we do.  Lawyers, and Ac’demics, and that, they knows what’s good for us, don’ they?  An’ learned people, they thinks we’re too thick to unnerstand ‘bout Eurpoe.

See, I voted ‘cause I didn’t think that there Onion was goin’ anywhere.  I thought that my country is what serves me a livin’ an’ not none of the Brussels.   They’m got strange money that they keeps printin’ with no vaalue behind un, they keeps poorer countries strugglin’ for a livin’ an’ it’s not long afore we becomes one of those, if we stays in, like.   They’m sittin’ there with smirks of their faces, takin’  our money and givin’ us less back than what they takes; they makes rules we can’t keep up with, and my sheep dip’s more ‘ficient at keepin’ out the nasties than their imm’gration pol’cy.  They destroyed our fishin’ ind’stry, they put the cost of livin’ up for all of us an’ they make us tax things we shouldn’t, don’t they?  And we can’t take so many people!    Now, that’s not racist, nor nothin’, but us as dooty to house and keep the people we already got.  It makes sense, see?  If my neighbour, he don’t put no fence up,  his sheep gets all mixed up wi’ mine an’ they overstocks my land.  Seems simple sense to me.

But there.  I don’t know nothin’.   I’m jus’ the peasant who’s ‘pinions you thinks you can ignore – I’ll jus’ tug my forelock as I passes you by and you can try to forget it’s me who does all the work, who keeps your nicely feathered beds stuffed an’ makes the country run.

Let’s drop the accent now…

So, overturn the will of the people with your contrived arguments and Machiavellian tactics.   Buy your politicians and your expensive lawyers to find a case for you to make.  But if you do, and you succeed in controverting the will of the people you will finally write the obituary to democracy, and prove the lie you have been trying to disguise for so many years.

And I, at least, will stand against you, tooth and claw.  And if you succeed I will never bother to mark a ballot paper again.  I wonder if anyone will?

Let’s Discuss Nationalism.

 

Particularly, let’s talk about Britain and its relationship, or its lack of a relationship, with the European Union.

Examine the validity of arguments for a United Europe, a ‘New World Order’ and its associated myths.  Internationalism is an ideology, not a possibility.  Discuss.

I am an English national who voted to leave the European Union.   This will not be a surprise, given my opening comments.  That I am an older voter is self-evident, that I am therefore by definition senile is a judgement I would hotly contest.

Am I nostalgic?   No.

Do I want to return to days of Empire and solitary glory?  No.

Before the Treaty of Maastricht and its love child, the Treaty of Amsterdam, I had hopes of becoming a ‘European’.  I declared myself as such – I gladly espoused the cause of world unity and I saw the promise of a slow, careful expansion of common interest as nations across the continent joined hands.

What happened?  A hijacking.  Overnight, the bureaucrats moved in; unelected, and with no mandate from the majority in the member states.  Overnight, almost, the original twelve member states became 27; rapidly and without planning.

I am a sentient human being who recognises that:

a:  political structures headed by bureaucrats do not work;  and

b:  A ponderous union of 27 countries many of whom have virulently hated each other’s guts for centuries, who share no common language, cannot be patched into a cohesive whole by anything short of a miracle, and miracles don’t happen.

I haven’t won the lottery yet, either.  The odds stack up about the same.

The dream died.  It died at Maastricht.

So…

Do I want to live in an independent, dynamic Britain, free to take its place in the world?  Yes.

Do I want to see the people of Britain determine the future of Britain?  Yes.

On a conspicuously memorable date in 2016 the government of the day, conscious of a steadily rising swell of discontent, decided to actually ask the voters – real people – if they wanted to leave this bloated, federalist EU.  They said yes.

It was an unexpected answer – it sent shock-waves through the pseudo-intellectual metropolitan elite and shook the putty from the windows of those who actually score from having no boundaries between nations, the big multi-national corporations, the financial institutions, the academic community, and the criminals.

So accustomed have our politicians become to manipulating public opinion, no-one in the ‘Westminster Bubble’ believed that an outbreak of common sense could happen.  Once they realised it had happened, they set in motion the biggest campaign of mud-slinging and deliberate scare tactics I think the British public has ever seen.

They galvanised a sympathetic media into action.  They compiled a small dictionary of gloom, utilising terms like ‘falling off a cliff’, ‘walking blindfolded into catastrophe’ and ‘the disaster of a no deal’ and fed it to the press pack.

A BBC reporter or presenter could no more omit a deleterious ‘Brexit’ reference from a news report or general interest item than they could appear in the month before Remembrance Day without sporting a poppy.

The Prime Minister managed to shelve the whole thing for nearly two years and then set in motion a sort of wheedling apology that masqueraded as a negotiating approach to the EU bureaucrats – a tactic meant to imply that the ‘leave’ voters were either deluded old fools or naughty children who hadn’t grown up.

The harsh truth I would wish you to consider is:

Those whose weeping and wailing is the loudest heard are those who represent the fatted calf of corporate capitalism, the big bonus guys, the golden parachute guys.  The industrialist who charges you thirty K for a car he made for 3.5 K, the multi-national producer of the incredibly shrinking candy bar, the purveyor of lorry-loads of sheep on three-days-long journeys from nation to nation in conditions that are conspicuously cruel and will only end in their slaughter.

The point I want to drive home is one for the little guys, because crushed beneath the thirty-stone arses of these corporate slobs is a fresh, vital queue of business wannabes who, given their chance to shine, can secure the future of this vibrant land three times over.   Britain has the ideas, the resources and the sheer talent to succeed far, far better on its own than as the member of an asset-stripping club like the EU.

We have so much to offer the world, and a world ready to listen to what we say.  We have the right to enact our own laws, to fish our own waters, to retain tax owed on British sales, and not have it leeched from our system by Luxembourg, or Dublin.

I beg you to think, as I have thought, about where your loyalties lie.  Sadly, all Europe ever wanted to do with our country was raid it for its natural advantages.   The truth of the European Federal State is that it is a leaking, institutionally corrupted hulk desperately in search of a sandbank to stop it from disappearing beneath the waves.

Leave them to it.  Become British and become proud of who you are.  Demand that those for whom you voted do your will.

Just leave.

 

 

Just a quick word….

Populism.

Dictionary definition:  ‘Support for the concerns of ordinary people’.

Simple.

When Time Magazine and the Economist attempt to add a political connotation to this word they are forced into three or more pedantic paragraphs.  All political language suffers that distortion – think of ‘Labour’ or the ‘Party System’; but at the moment ‘populism’ is a special case.  Why?  Politicians are like that; if they sense danger in something they seek to discredit it; to lend it a sinister twist, a savour of the dark side.

Oh, yes; and they tend to use it – a lot.   It is lampooned, denounced, aligned with extremism to the political left or right.  It is a synonym for Nazism, Leninism, Marxism, any ism they can think of that will make it seem abhorrent.  While all it really means is ‘Support for the concerns of ordinary people’.

Isn’t that what politicians are elected to do, support the concerns of ordinary people?  Then why is it they feel somehow divorced from the will of the electorate, as though their success at the hustings (which really only amounts to an ability to sound convincing, enhanced by liberal sprinklings of cash) endows them with a patrician superiority, some sort of moral standing that places them above the electorate?

Although Britain still suffers from delusions of Monarchy, the parliamentary system of government is not feudal.  Whether or not they like it, or are aware of it, the elected representatives of the people are mandated to represent ALL of the people, and they should not disregard the openly expressed views upon which they were elected, not least because those views contain an element so tragically absent from their own thinking; namely common sense.  Instead of making an enemy of populism they should espouse it, and listen to its concerns, then act on those concerns.

Otherwise, they risk the rattle of sabres at their doors, against which a pseudo-intellectual bubble is a poor defence.

 

Natural Laws according to Fred

Once upon a time I lived in a tree. I was probably quite furry, because the tree did not 220834951_nman_xlargehave central heating, and I may have weighed something like 98lbs, most of which was devoted to muscle; the kind of muscle you need if you are going to climb a lot of trees, but not much use as body fat to keep me warm. I didn’t have a great deal of brain; I didn’t need it. Before she threw me out of her tree, Mummy taught me which berries were food, and the bushes on which they were to be found. Paradise, she said, is a tree that bears berries you can eat – then you never have to climb down. Apart from that, she didn’t teach me very much.

I had one asset of much greater value than my brain, and that was my speed. I could run. You see, although berries were not particularly nice, they were survival. When one of us discovered a new bush the competition could get really serious, and first there got most berries. Of course, that meant the winner got more berries than the others, and that made them fatter, so they were slower next time. From this was created the first law: Natural Balance.

There were those among us with just a little more brain. They could predict when a bush was about to yield berries, and camp out either on the ground or in trees nearby, so as to be sure to get more than their share. There was a lesson here, however: the saber-toothed tiger was cleverer than they were. He camped out there too, but he wasn’t waiting for the berries. The more scientific name for the sabre-toothed tiger was the Smilodon, probably because he always looked so happy. After all, he was never short of food. From this was created the second law: clever people are always looking for ways to circumvent the laws of nature and natural balance. They always fail. And they never learn.

When we were happy, the rule was simple. The third law: one person one tree. There were occasional neighborhood disputes, but never anything of substance, until there were more persons than trees. This shouldn’t have happened. Two persons sharing a tree did not work, because it meant one had to be underneath. Now, in those days my bathroom habits would have been less than perfect, so it was obviously more desirable to have the penthouse. With the onset of competition, the law of Natural Balance was violated. The first real evil in the world was born. The clever people learned that Might is Right.

Now I began to lament my lack of brain, because the day that clever people discovered how to use strong people was the day the fourth law was written. Why get yourself killed if you can persuade bigger, more aggressive persons whose power is physical rather than mental to die for you? Law number four, then: the most powerful force in nature is hope.

Simple people have simple loyalties: promise me four and twenty virgins and I’ll be on the next train to Inverness. Tell me this ticket is the winning ticket and I will keep on buying it. Convince me I will have a place at my Lord’s right hand and I will gladly do whatever you ask. What is more, I will be loyal. Week after week, year after year, on one last walk into the crowded market place wearing that large, rather awkward belt: as long as you never actually honor your promises I will serve your cause. I have been taught to hope.

Today I walk in a world ruled by clever people who dedicate their whole lives to contravening the natural laws. More people pay more taxes, so they continue to cram the trees with people. They dispatch the strong to the bushes that bear the thick black food of life, not caring where the smilodon lurks or how many victims that barbaric creature might take. All they seek is the power that ownership implies, and hope is their tool for controlling those who serve them; for keeping them on the knife-edge of life.

And they still haven’t learned. They haven’t understood, somehow cannot, that the first law must be observed. You can prevaricate, you can evade, you can use all the powers of paper progress to persuade; but when the trees are too full, when promises too oft repeated are unfulfilled, the decisions which finally steer our species are not made by you: they are made by those for whom hope has died: the engine drivers, the laborers, the shelf-stackers, the young with no future and the guy on the station who sleeps in a cardboard box. The Visigoths, the Vandals, the Vikings; the ordinary inhabitants of the trees will always be there, and ready to be led. It just takes another clever person with a message of hope which, however nonsensical, is new.

It is, in the circularity of reason, simply a return to that first law as written on a billion ancient graves – Egyptian, Macedonian, Persian, Roman, Mayan – all the great empires that were the dreams of clever people.

One person, one tree. Natural balance has to be observed.