I'm finding politics rather dispiriting this year. At first I thought it was a natural reaction following the wholly unexpected triumphs of 2016 - an inevitable period of dullness after the excitement generated by the Brexit vote and the defeat of Hillary Clinton: unconfined joy can only be sustained for so long. But I've recently begun to realise that it's also partly bemusement at having all one's suspicions confirmed. I've spent years raving about the sinister liberal-left establishment which runs this country (and Europe and America), and how, because "it" or "they" have such a firm grip on all of our major institutions, "they" will still be in control - whichever party is in power. Every day and in every way, this wild delusion is turning out to be true. I feel a bit like Mel Gibson's deranged cab-driver in the 1997 film Conspiracy Theory whose paranoid fantasies concerning vast global plots to undermine democracy turn out to be spot on - i.e. he's evidently nuts, but he happens to be right. The same could be said of me. It's disconcerting.
I stopped reading the Telegraph's parliamentary sketch-writer and restaurant critic (and, for all I know, astrologer and agony aunt) Michael Deacon when he started poking fun at LIBLABCON nutters who believed in the existence of an anti-democratic establishment intent on keeping Britain in the EU, destroying any sense of national identity, and turning the UK into a permanent High Tax, Big State, left-of-centre "progressive" country presided over by comically powerless politicians, but actually ruled by a quangocracy of dreary New Labour "experts' and Oxford PPE graduates. I didn't stop reading Deacon because I was sure he was wrong: I stopped because I began to suspect he might be right. Perhaps I, many of my friends, and many of the like-minded British and American commentators I followed online were pretty much bonkers and the idea of an unelected ruling elite remorselessly pushing us in a direction most us didn't wish to take because we didn't much like the sound of the multiculti, multi-ethnic, citizens-of-the-world, affirmative action, anti-Christian, wealth-redistributing, open-borders, gluten-free, safe-space, no-platforming, health-and-safety obsessed, NHS-worshipping, finger-wagging, nanny-stating, history-denying, difference-hating, politically-correct-to-the-power-of-infinity destination.
But I'm over my little wobble. Deacon was - and still is - wrong, and I and millions like me were - and still are - right. Read any paper, watch any news bulletin and then try to argue that the "expert" shadow state isn't fighting tooth and claw - lying, threatening, snarling, jeering, putting bedsheets over its collective head and going "Wooooh!" in a scary fashion - in order to hold onto power by constantly reprogramming the national SatNav to keep us heading in the direction they want us to go. I am so fucking sick of anti-Brexit, pro-EU, anti-Trump, pro-immigrant propaganda. I am so fucking sick of broadcasters wheeling on has-beens like Tony Blair, John Major, Ken Clarke and Michael Heseltine - they were then, this is now. I am so fucking sick of fifth columnists on our TV screens whanging on about the myriad ways in which the mighty EU is going to punish puny little Britain for daring to want to leave. What is wrong with these people? What sort of Briton, when informed that the EU is seeking £50Bn from Britain as a punishment for leaving its crappy, failing, doomed, undemocratic experiment, wouldn't want Theresa May to rip up the bill and insert the fragments - with considerable force - up Jean-Claude Juncker's jacksie? What kind of mimsy, simpering, testosterone-deficient bedwetter runs around waving their arms and shrieking, "I'm fwightened - just do as he says, mummy!"? An agent of the liberal-left establishment, that's who.
The next time our side loses an election or a referendum, I suggest we don't do what we've always done in the past - i.e. have a bit of a cry, dust ourselves down, let the victors get on with it, offer strongly-worded criticism when required, but generally muddle along and try to make things better. Let's take a leaf or two out of the left-liberal establishment playbook: we could either refuse to accept the result, call the electorate stupid, scream, shout, whine, poop our pants and thresh around on the floor, drumming our feet and fists, while alternately screaming "I hate you!" and "We're all going to die!" - or we could go into "angry headmistress" mode, sadly shaking our heads and trying not to lose our temper while explaining in words of one syllable to the drooling idiots on the other side of the desk that, while it is of course entirely their right to remove their children from our school because it charges exorbitant fees, has terrible exam results, and has been invaded by hordes of social needs charity cases who constantly disrupt lessons by stabbing fellow pupils and murdering the teachers while demanding wholesale changes to the school rules, dress code, and syllabus - and the expulsion of all girls - well, yes, we're going through a bit of a rocky patch, but it'll all sort itself out, probably, and while the school you're proposing to place your children in could be a very good fit for them, well, it would take years to sort out all the paperwork required to allow them to leave this one, and, by the way, you'll have to pay ten years' fees in order to extricate Tarquin and Delphine, and we'll take you to court because we're not sure it actually is your decision after all, and there will be riots in the street, which would really be your fault, and, of course, not wanting your children to stay here means that you're very stupid and very horrible people...
Given the UK and US left-liberal establishments' - and their minions' - monumentally shitty behaviour since the Brexit vote and Hillary's loss, I reckon it's gloves off next time round.
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