Ha Bumbug!

I have to say, this year I don’t feel much like revelling.  Not only has my body-clock changed to that of an eighty-year-old, meaning that I tend to wake with the lark and go to bed with a nice cup of cocoa (or in my case, chamomile) around ten – but this year has been frankly abysmal.  I can’t remember a twelvemonth in which more people died (people I grew up with and loved, that is) or in which more political horrors were perpetrated.  The news from Syria was awful to start with and it kept getting worse; terrorists ploughed vehicles into crowds, and after Brexit anyone who didn’t have two brain cells to rub together felt at liberty to abuse any Muslim they happened to come across and tell them to go back where they came from (Bradford, mostly).  And to think that next year what we have to look forward to is the inauguration of Mr T (I pity the fool who votes for me!  I pity the fool!) – well, it makes me want to stick my head under a pillow and keep it there for the whole of 2017.

So is all I can say is, thank god for Charlie Brooker: his ‘2016 Wipe’ did just what it said on the tin, wiping the floor with the entire annus horribilis and ending up with a lovely montage of Mr T sabotaging himself.  Fake news gets the Brooker treatment, as do the wilfully ignorant, in the person of Philomena Cunk and her ‘moments of wonder.’  Brian Cox guests, though that’s not specially a recommendation as he gets on my wick.  However, Coxes notwithstanding, a terrific programme:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b086khl3/charlie-brookers-2016-wipe

Go to minute 50 to watch the subtitled Mr T – a great improvement on the real one.

Kirk out

PS  Happy New Year.  I guess.

Congratulations America

Congratulations America – you just elected your first Hitler.  No, seriously: I don’t think comparisons with Hitler are exaggerated.  OK so Mr T doesn’t have the paramilitary chic that Adolf and his pals had – in fact he has no chic at all – but he doesn’t need it.  Because it’s not surprising, given our current reverence for money, that the next fascist dictator should be some kind of uber-businessman.

OK so he’s not a dictator – yet: but then, neither was Hitler when he was elected.  Just like Mr T, Hitler promised to make the country great again; just like Mr T he blamed blacks and gays and Jews (for Jews read Muslims) for the country’s ills.  Fascism doesn’t come with a gas chamber; it comes as your friend, promising jobs and money and pride and ‘greatness’ (whatever that means.)  In Britain it came as Brexit, guaranteeing to ‘take back control’ (whatever that means) and more money for ‘us’ instead of ‘them’.  I suspect that in many people’s minds what ‘control’ meant was ‘control of our borders’ and what that meant was immigration.  We don’t want them here.  It’s as simple as that.

No, fascism comes as your friend, separating you from ‘the other’, the one who wants to do you down, the foreigner, the immigrant.  We’re going to build a wall between us and them (and in this respect totalitarian communism is exactly the same as fascism) to keep them out: we’re going to round them up and tag them and keep tabs on them and if they step out of line we’re going to throw them in jail or deport them.

This is no different from what Hitler did – or Stalin, come to that.  First you separate ‘us’, the good guys, from ‘them’.  On our side are the white males, their females who fall into line, all of whom are obviously straight.  On the other side are Muslims (public enemy no. 1 and this century’s Jews) gays and all the rest of the quiltbag rag-tag; black people (obviously) and white women who step out of line.

Sure, Mr T doesn’t have the power to do what Hitler did – yet.  But neither did Hitler when he was elected.

Of course it’s easy to be smug, to look at the Americans and say, here’s a bunch of people who went over there and took the place from the indigenous population – and now they hate immigrants?  What a short memory they have!

But our memories are even shorter.  Why do we have so many refugees from Syria?  Could it be something to do with the fact that we are bombing the hell out of their country?  But god help anyone who shows these people compassion.  Maybe if we want a picture of the future, rather than a boot stamping on a human face as Orwell so cheerily prophesied, we should picture a man stabbing Jo Cox and shouting ‘Britain First!’  Because it’s Us that matter – and They are taking over – and anyone who helps Them deserves to die.

I’m ashamed of my country.  I’m ashamed of Brexit and I’m ashamed of the so-called special relationship.  I don’t want to live here any more.

Kirk out

Trexit Means Trexit

I think we’re done with the Cohen tributes for now, though if you haven’t read them please scroll down and take a look.  So we’re onto something I’ve been avoiding for the last week or so and it is what I’m calling Trexit.  It’s Brexit Plus: Brexit with that secret added ingredient which makes it twenty times more repellent.  I don’t need to tell you what it is, but Trexit has seemingly brought all the closet racists, homophobes, misogynists and Islamophobes out of the woodwork and into the limelight where they can crawl around proudly in front of the cameras.

I have decided I want to emigrate now.  I used to say no to going to Scotland or Scandinavia, the two places Thing was keen on, because they were too cold.  Now I don’t care.  What with global warming they’ll be just a nice temperature by the time we get there and we might even have something approaching a winter.  Because we sure as hell haven’t got one here.  Yes, I know I hate winter but I hate climate change even more – and for a hoax phenomenon it sure is putting on a hell of a show.  So let’s go North, somewhere they have a proper political system and don’t stick their noses up Mr T’s arse.

Of course the irony is that since Brexit it’s going to be harder to go and live anywhere else – and we can’t go yet because my father-in-law needs looking after.

Seriously though – I’ve had it.

Kirk out