Author: Alexander Boot

On 20 December, five days before the birthday of Christ, Russia celebrated another birthday, that of her security services.

Chekist Day (from ‘CheKa’, Chrezvychainaia Komissiya, the founding name of the organisation later known as the KGB) is commemorated in the Russian calendar as a national holiday, a cause for celebration.

It couldn’t be otherwise, for 87 per cent of Russia’s top government officials are proud veterans of the KGB/FSB/SVR. I’m sure they were all moved to tears when Col. Putin congratulated them publicly on the glorious occasion. I’m sure they are proud of their alma mater’s achievements.

There are indeed achievements to be proud of. This most awful terrorist setup in history, established by Lenin’s decree 98 years ago, is directly responsible for the death of 60 million Soviet citizens, those shot, tortured, starved to death, turned into ‘camp dust’, in Stalin’s phrase.

This is what Prof. Rummel, the author of Lethal Politics, calls ‘democide’, indiscriminate slaughter by category – as opposed to ‘genocide’, the slaughter of specific ethnic or religious groups.

Actually the KGB (as it’s still usually called generically) has form in both, as many citizens in the former Soviet Union could testify. Ukrainians, Chechens, Balkars, Daghestani, Letts, Lithuanians, Estonians, Crimean Tartars were all massacred not for what they did but for what they were.

I doubt their descendants raised a celebratory toast to the anniversary of their murderers, torturers and rapists. But Vlad and the KGB junta he fronts did – and no one in the West batted an eyelid.

It’s Russia’s business, isn’t it? Tastes differ, some people’s holidays are other people’s days to forget. Live and let live: for example, we celebrate Trafalgar Day and the French don’t. All par for the course.

Well, not quite. How would you feel if the Germans declared 20 April a national holiday because that was the day the Gestapo was founded in 1933? How would you feel if German tobacconists were selling cigarettes branded Auschwitz?

Surely you’d be tempted to reach some rather gloomy conclusions about the nature of the modern German state, which clearly saw an uninterrupted continuity from Hitler to Merkel. Can you imagine the reaction in our press? I can’t.

And yet no one deems it worth a comment that Moscow tobacconists sell cigarettes called Belomorkanal, the White Sea Canal, a giant NKVD construction project during which hundreds of thousands of political prisoners died of starvation, neglect, torture and bullets. The pack features an outline map of the area, without mentioning it’s one contiguous mass grave.

Similarly, Putin’s heartiest congratulations to the veterans of history’s most murderous organisation attracted no attention whatsoever. No comments were made, no inferences were drawn, no conclusions were reached.

When did we become such a sorry lot? When did we smash to smithereens our framework of moral reference? If that structure were still intact, this fact alone, that the Russian government officially celebrates Chekist Day, would tell us all we needed to know about Putin’s Russia – even if we knew nothing else.

As it is, assorted ‘useful idiots’, ably represented by Peter Hitchens, Christopher Booker and, when he’s in that sort of mood, Nigel Farage, praise Putin’s strong leadership qualities.

Their panegyrics are neatly harmonised in the background with the howling winds blowing thistle through the mass, nameless graves of millions, with the wailing and weeping of those who miraculously survived.

Happy Genocide Day, Vlad. It’s your day, and no one can take it away from you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I never tire of admiring Holland’s trailblazing efforts in bringing ancient laws and practices up to date.

For example, she was the first European country to legalise homomarriage, thus expanding the concept of matrimony and, moreover, laying the groundwork for further expansion into such promising areas as polygamy, polyandry and interspecies marriage. If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is.

Consumption of soft drugs is legal too, with the Dutch adding a whole new meaning to the concept of coffee shop. Walk into one of those in Amsterdam and you can have all the hash cookies you can eat – bizarrely provided you’re a Dutch citizen. The logic behind this discrimination against foreigners must be based on sheer greed: the Dutch want to keep all the best fruits of progress for themselves.

Holland also is the first country to have legalised killing old people who don’t seem to enjoy life any longer. Of course gauging the requisite degree of unhappiness isn’t something a wrinkly can be trusted to do for himself. Such a responsible decision can only be made by an impartial source, namely a doctor or perhaps a magistrate.

As a result of this progressive legislation, old people in Holland are increasingly scared of going to hospital because they think the doctors may kill them. This reticence reduces the workload of the Dutch health service and, indirectly, the tax burden on the populace. Benefits all around, anywhere you look.

Since all EU members are umbilically linked to one another, progress achieved in one country invariably catches on. Hence one can hardly open one of our ‘quality’ broadsheets without reading lamentations about the unbearable pressure the aging population exerts on the NHS.

While a wholesale cull of crumblies isn’t mentioned as a viable solution in so many words, the underlying longing is clearly discernible. And speaking of underlying longings, Holland has introduced another progressive law that has made me consider retraining as a driving instructor.

Transport Minister Melanie Schultz van Haegen and Justice Minister Ard van der Steur have just welcomed the new law making it legal for driving instructors to offer lessons in exchange for sex.

“It’s not about offering sexual activities for remuneration, but offering a driving lesson,” explained the ministers, which is God’s own truth, though not the whole truth.

For any commercial transaction is bilateral. In this case, one side, the instructor, offers a service for which he requests payment in kind. The other side, the learner, accepts the request and offers a service in return. Still, while the logic behind it all isn’t of sterling quality, the spirit of the new law can’t possibly be faulted.

One only hopes that Dutch legislators can see the plethora of exciting commercial possibilities opening up. For why limit this kind of barter arrangement just to driving?

A nubile young girl (or, let’s be truly progressive, boy) could offer services of various ballistic complexity in exchange for groceries, rent, clothes, cab fare, medical services, restaurant bills – you name it. I’m sure that purveyors of all of those can easily accommodate one or two such enterprising young ladies into their daily grind.

As a side benefit, the government could borrow less by reducing the supply of cash in circulation. Fellatio would trump finance as a means of exchange, and the euro would have a better chance of surviving, which is the dearest wish of all progressive people.

Alas, some spoilsports wish to stick an umbrella in the wheel spokes of progress. Even in Holland, a country so progressive that it should be twinned with Sodom and Gomorra, such sticks-in-the-mud exist.

It’s to the whole nation’s credit that their objections have nothing to do with such anachronisms as morality. No, in the good Calvinist tradition some frugal Dutchmen take exception to the tax implications of this exciting development.

Prostitution is legal in Holland, as it must be in all progressive lands. Ladies of easy virtue are licensed and registered with the tax authorities. The temptation is strong to equate girls using sex to pay for driving lessons with prostitutes and hence demand that they register and pay tax.

One can’t deny that this demand has merit, but I’m sure it won’t derail the march of progress. For one thing, most 18-year-old girls (the minimum age for selecting this method of payment) are in such a low income bracket that they wouldn’t pay any tax anyway.

Then of course there exist endless possibilities for evasion. There’s nothing to prevent the instructor from offering his services free of charge, or claiming that he is. And the learner can easily say that, rather than using her body or parts thereof in lieu of payment, she suddenly felt a surge of uncontrollable affection for the chap in the car with dual controls.

Naysayers will be defeated one way or the other. And if any Dutch government officials are reading this, I want them to know that I have 45 years’ driving experience, a clean licence and the urge to march in step with progress.

 

  

 

Dave hasn’t so much declared his hand as confirmed it: he’ll campaign for staying no matter what.

If the Commission demands that the Queen abdicate, Dave will campaign for staying. If the demand is that Britain transfer her whole nuclear deterrent to the EU, he’ll campaign for staying. If we’re told to accept at least five million Muslims next year… well, you get the picture.

Without impugning Dave’s character more than I’ve already been doing for years, let’s look at the arguments put forth in support of staying – and pretend they’re offered in good faith.

Let’s start with the economy. Britain has managed to stay out of the euro for the time being, but not out of the on-going drive towards closer union. In fact, Dave’s role model Tony still thinks we should join the single currency – which ipso facto is a strong argument not to.

The theoretical case against merging vastly diverse economies into a single entity is overwhelming: a country like Germany or Holland can’t easily accommodate Romania and Greece into its own economic model.

But forget theory for a second. What about the practical results of closer integration? Can’t everyone see that EU economies are a basket case? That, for no reason other than staying out of the euro, Britain is pulling further ahead of even Germany and France, never mind the low-rent part of Europe?

Theory and practice come together to blow the economic argument out of the water. As to the trade argument, it doesn’t even get as far as the water.

We need, the argument goes, to dissolve our sovereignty in some collective contrivance in order to be able to trade with Europe. Really? Since when?

Since the time Britain practically invented the modern version of free trade centuries ago? Since she ran the greatest trading empire the world has ever known? Who invented the bizarre idea that a nation has to divest itself of its sovereignty to be able to trade with others?

On the contrary, as anyone who has ever conducted multi-partite negotiations will tell you, the fewer parties to the deal, the better it is. Wouldn’t it be better for us to have one trade deal with Holland and another with Poland? Rather than getting agreement from 27 member states?

A related argument is that, should Britain leave the EU, it would be so enraged that it would impose punitive tariffs on us.

That may be. No one can accuse the concocters of the frankly idiotic single currency of putting economics before politics, and reason before ideology.

However, punitive tariffs beget punitive counter-tariffs. Hence, for example, if the EU introduced sanctions on us, our countersanctions could conceivably add £10,000 to the price of every German car.

As a result, at least half the sales currently enjoyed by Audis and BMWs will go to Nissan and Toyota. In a country that lives or dies by exports, what do think would be the electoral prospects of the Chancellor responsible for devastating the country’s principal industry?

Considering that the EU enjoys a huge trade surplus with Britain, I’d say that sanctions would be highly unlikely. And if they did happen, we’d be in an ideal position first to retaliate and then to take up the slack by increasing our trade outside the EU, which already accounts for 60 per cent of our exports.

Another argument that’s embarrassing for serious people not only to make but even to listen to is security. It’s only thanks to the EU, say its advocates, that there have been no wars in Europe since 1945.

Of course, when the French or the Germans say this, they don’t mean no wars in Europe. They mean no wars between France and Germany, and the rest of Europe might as well not exist.

But it does exist, and since 1945 blood has been gushing with various intensity in Poland and East Germany, Hungary and Czechoslovakia, the Ukraine and Georgia, Bosnia and Croatia, Serbia and Kosovo. And in each case the response of the EU, or whatever it called itself then, varied from feeble to nonexistent to treacherous.

In any case, but for NATO and the US nuclear umbrella, the EU would now be called the EUSSR, and it would be a vassalage of a still powerful Soviet Union.

Looking at the EU now, does it look very secure to you? How long before AKs in the hands of murderous fanatics are replaced with nuclear, chemical or biological devices? How long before the EU becomes a caliphate in all but name?

The Schengen Agreement and the euro are both EU flagships. They are also arguably the greatest disasters Europe has ever experienced at peacetime – and it’s ongoing. The effect is that of a snowball getting bigger and bigger as it rolls to – and then over – the edge of the abyss.

The arguments in favour of staying in the EU range from spurious to unsound to mendacious. Still, throw a few billion of EU funny money behind them and they may well carry the day at referendum time.

For we are no longer blessed with a population capable of gathering facts, analysing them and drawing logical conclusions. So Dave’s smug mug may stay with us for years to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The news that the top 10 per cent of Britain’s population own half of the nation’s wealth is no news at all.

Neither, really, is the widespread reaction to this disparity, with most comments describing it as a failure of capitalism.

Of course reason falls silent whenever ideology speaks, so there’s no point arguing against this visceral feeling, especially since it betokens astounding ignorance of the most basic economic and social concepts.

However, if someone were to try to argue this inner conviction beyond the usual harangues, such an intrepid individual would be unsportingly easy to shoot down.

For, common superstitions apart, capitalism is the only economic system that delivers a more or less even distribution of wealth. ‘More or less’ are the operative words here, for income inequality reflects the inequality of ability, application, talent – and those things will disappear only when man does.

Conversely, a huge income gap between the elite and everyone else is a distinguishing feature of three types of modern economy: socialist, corporatist and criminal. Of the world’s major economies only Russia and China practise the last type on a serious scale, the former almost exclusively, the latter largely.

Most Western economies, on the other hand, are a mixed bag, in which socialist and corporatist elements are either prominent or even dominant, especially if we agree on the relevant terminology.

According to Marx, socialism is tantamount to public ownership of the means of production, which is to say the economy. This arrangement is in rude health throughout the West.

In Britain, for example, the government owns close to 50 per cent of the economy; in France, over 60 per cent. The corresponding figure for Stalin’s Russia was 85 per cent, still higher than in today’s France but the gap is narrowing. And in today’s communist China it is a mere 15 per cent, which means China isn’t even socialist by Marxist criteria, never mind communist.

Delving deeper, we’ll see that even much of the economy presumably residing in the West’s private sector isn’t owned by the capitalist, Marx’s bogeyman. Transferring ownership of giant global corporations to the public through stock-market flotation has created a situation where ownership and control have gone their separate ways. The public may nominally own a corporation, but it has next to no say in how it’s run, even if it’s being run into the ground.

The control rests in the hands of the directors, most of them increasingly coming from the professional managerial class. This is a distinctly modern phenomenon. ‘Management’ is now a popular academic discipline, and those who matriculate in it easily float not just from one company to the next, but also from one industry to the next – it doesn’t matter whether they manage an oil company, a bank or an NHS trust.

In an eerie sort of way this arrangement isn’t altogether different from that in the Soviet Union, where the public technically owned the economy, but where all the kudos went to the nomenklatura having none of the ownership but exercising all of the control.

The difference between today’s managers and yesterday’s capitalists is that the latter had their greed controlled by market demands, whereas the former operate with other people’s money, standing to gain massively in case of success and personally risking next to nothing in case of failure.

All those golden parachutes will help them land softly no matter what, and then go on to the next bonanza. This kind of arrangement doesn’t encourage the best human qualities to come to the fore – personal ambitions and appetites take over because, unlike capitalists, managers aren’t forced into a modicum of decent behaviour by the market.

That’s why, to cite one example, in the second half of the nineteenth century, when Marx’s dreaded capitalism was at its peak and robber barons at their most oppressive, the average ratio of income earned by US corporate directors and their employees was 28:1. Yet in 2005, when egalitarianism proudly reigned supreme, this ratio stood at 158:1 (a study jointly conduced by MIT and the Fed).

In other words, what separates today’s managers from the employees isn’t merely an earning gap but an unbridgeable chasm. This is a clear-cut Soviet arrangement, except that in the Soviet Union this division, though even wider and deeper than in today’s West, was largely expressed in subtler ways than just cash on the nail.

But let’s not despair. The top 10 per cent of the British population owning half the private wealth is still testimony to the residual capitalist elements in our economy.

The same proportion of the whole world’s wealth is in the hands of a mere one per cent of the population. So we have something to look forward to, an exciting game of catch-up.

 

 

 

 

 

The news that the top 10 per cent of Britain’s population own half of the nation’s wealth is no news at all.

Neither, really, is the widespread reaction to this disparity, with most comments describing it as a failure of capitalism.

Of course reason falls silent whenever ideology speaks, so there’s no point arguing against this visceral feeling, especially since it betokens astounding ignorance of the most basic economic and social concepts.

However, if someone were to try to argue this inner conviction beyond the usual harangues, such an intrepid individual would be unsportingly easy to shoot down.

For, common superstitions apart, capitalism is the only economic system that delivers a more or less even distribution of wealth. ‘More or less’ are the operative words here, for income inequality reflects the inequality of ability, application, talent – and those things will disappear only when man does.

Conversely, a huge income gap between the elite and everyone else is a distinguishing feature of three types of modern economy: socialist, corporatist and criminal. Of the world’s major economies only Russia and China practise the last type on a serious scale, the former almost exclusively, the latter largely.

Most Western economies, on the other hand, are a mixed bag, in which socialist and corporatist elements are either prominent or even dominant, especially if we agree on the relevant terminology.

According to Marx, socialism is tantamount to public ownership of the means of production, which is to say the economy. This arrangement is in rude health throughout the West.

In Britain, for example, the government owns close to 50 per cent of the economy; in France, over 60 per cent. The corresponding figure for Stalin’s Russia was 85 per cent, still higher than in today’s France but the gap is narrowing. And in today’s communist China it is a mere 15 per cent, which means China isn’t even socialist by Marxist criteria, never mind communist.

Delving deeper, we’ll see that even much of the economy presumably residing in the West’s private sector isn’t owned by the capitalist, Marx’s bogeyman. Transferring ownership of giant global corporations to the public through stock-market flotation has created a situation where ownership and control have gone their separate ways. The public may nominally own a corporation, but it has next to no say in how it’s run, even if it’s being run into the ground.

The control rests in the hands of the directors, most of them increasingly coming from the professional managerial class. This is a distinctly modern phenomenon. ‘Management’ is now a popular academic discipline, and those who matriculate in it easily float not just from one company to the next, but also from one industry to the next – it doesn’t matter whether they manage an oil company, a bank or an NHS trust.

In an eerie sort of way this arrangement isn’t altogether different from that in the Soviet Union, where the public technically owned the economy, but where all the kudos went to the nomenklatura having none of the ownership but exercising all of the control.

The difference between today’s managers and yesterday’s capitalists is that the latter had their greed controlled by market demands, whereas the former operate with other people’s money, standing to gain massively in case of success and personally risking next to nothing in case of failure.

All those golden parachutes will help them land softly no matter what, and then go on to the next bonanza. This kind of arrangement doesn’t encourage the best human qualities to come to the fore – personal ambitions and appetites take over because, unlike capitalists, managers aren’t forced into a modicum of decent behaviour by the market.

That’s why, to cite one example, in the second half of the nineteenth century, when Marx’s dreaded capitalism was at its peak and robber barons at their most oppressive, the average ratio of income earned by US corporate directors and their employees was 28:1. Yet in 2005, when egalitarianism proudly reigned supreme, this ratio stood at 158:1 (a study jointly conduced by MIT and the Fed).

In other words, what separates today’s managers from the employees isn’t merely an earning gap but an unbridgeable chasm. This is a clear-cut Soviet arrangement, except that in the Soviet Union this division, though even wider and deeper than in today’s West, was largely expressed in subtler ways than just cash on the nail.

But let’s not despair. The top 10 per cent of the British population owning half the private wealth is still testimony to the residual capitalist elements in our economy.

The same proportion of the whole world’s wealth is in the hands of a mere one per cent of the population. So we have something to look forward to, an exciting game of catch-up.

 

 

 

 

 

No one would probably recoil in shock at the news that our government lies to us. It’s a modern, post-Christian government, isn’t it? Of course it is. So it lies.

Thieves steal, muggers mug, burglars burgle, our governing spivs lie. Truth has no independent value for them, lies no stigma. Whatever works at the moment.

At the moment Dave is trying to ‘negotiate’ with the EU. That’s his word for begging that wicked setup for some token concessions, no matter how meaningless, that will enable him to trick the people into voting to stay in the EU.

Even before such crumbs have been swept off the EU’s table into Dave’s gaping mouth, he’s already announcing triumphantly that “a pathway to a deal” has been found. We all know what this pathway is paved with: lies.

One such lie involves the scale of immigration from the EU, something about which few Brits are happy.

Enough immigration to sustain a few restaurants serving flavoursome food, fine, we can live with that. Cheaper plumbers, scaffolders and builders – perhaps, although one sometimes wonders if there’s a single plumber left in Poland.

But so much immigration that Britain no longer looks or feels British, that our infrastructure begins to creak at the seams, that it now takes a fortnight to see a GP (which is fine, if you don’t happen to be bleeding too fast), that the crime rate is climbing? The natives may become increasingly restless.

That bothersome state just may lead to the kind of referendum results that will frustrate Dave’s ambition for having a political job for life, for rising majestically above the quotidian national concerns, for telling the next British prime minister what to do from the height of Dave’s Brussels perch.

Hence the problem of excessive immigration must be handled. Or rather the impression to that effect must be created and maintained until the day after the referendum. How does one go about it? If one is Dave, one lies.

Comparing the number of EU immigrants claimed by the government with the number of National Insurance numbers issued to that group, we discover that the latter number is 1.1 million higher than the former. The actual number is 1.9 million over the last four years. The claimed number is 751,000. The difference between the two is the size of the lie.

Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs responded to a direct Freedom of Information request by tacitly acknowledging that what we’re dealing with is indeed a deliberate lie, not an honest error:

“HMRC continues to believe that releasing information in the form requested would, at this stage, be unhelpful to the negotiation process.”

Allow me to translate: this means that, should the truth be known, Dave might have to stop impersonating a dog standing at its hind legs at its master’s dinner table, begging for some leftovers.

He just might have to act, in however a meek and transient manner, as Her Majesty’s Prime Minister, not the EU gauleiter. Lying through his teeth – or through his agencies – is much easier, especially since it comes naturally.

Truth of any kind is always ‘unhelpful’ to modern democracies, for they deal in perceptions not facts, in virtual rather than actual reality. The scale of immigration is only the most recent example of how much more helpful lying is to them.

Everywhere you look, the fog of virtual reality is being released out of various governmental orifices… sorry, I mean offices.

Our economy, teetering at the edge of a disaster created by promiscuous government spending and borrowing, is being portrayed as prosperous. Our cosmically stupid foreign policy, mainly in the capacity of America’s poodle, is portrayed as sage. Our social policy, not just destroying the family but effectively redefining it, is portrayed as healthy.

Our education, which used to be the envy of the world and now is its laughing stock, is portrayed as being effective – and for once our governing spivs aren’t lying.

The education they’ve spawned is indeed effective in churning out ignoramuses incapable of seeing through the lies, or at least drawing the right conclusions from what they see.

Having said all that, the cynicism displayed by HMRC in so nonchalantly admitting to lying is quite refreshing even by the now customary standards of HMG. Dave is proving his credentials as the true Heir to Blair.    

 

 

 

 

 

  

I wonder if The Times columnist Jenni Russell is related to Jack, same surname. Their intellectual kinship almost has to suggest a biological link somewhere down the line.

The difference is that Jack, wisely aware of his limitations, restricts his self-expression to barking monosyllabics, while Jenni writes barking mad articles like Cameron’s EU Poker Hand is Full of Trumps.

If her idea was to distance herself from Jack, in reality she only emphasised the proximity. “Mr Cameron is playing a better hand than we assume,” she insist in that dogged way of hers.

Although the EU “can’t agree to concessions that would undermine Europe’s core principles”, explains Jenni, they do want to keep Britain in the EU because it “would be weaker and poorer without us”.

About £9 billion poorer every year, to be exact, which is the amount of our net contribution, but our Jenni wouldn’t demean herself by quoting such dry numbers. She wants us to respond to the EU not rationally but instinctively, the way her relation Jack responds to life in general.

Hence the EU’s leaders “do want to help the PM cut a deal that would keep us in” because “there’s a fund of goodwill” towards us. Can’t blame them – I myself would have oodles of goodwill for nine billion quid a year. But what kind of deal wouldn’t ‘undermine Europe’s core principles’?

The answer is, only a meaningless one. For example, the French may undertake never again to call us les rosbifs, while the Germans may promise to refrain, unless severely provoked, from shouting Gott Strafe England in public places.

“This referendum mustn’t be reduced to an argument about tax credits,” says Jenni. I agree. But I’d still prefer even such an inconsequential argument to the mendacious drivel peddled by Jenni and her idol Sir John ‘Maastricht’ Major.

“We cannot have free access to the EU’s markets without following all its rules,” howls Jenni, with Sir John nodding approvingly in the background, “…nor be a powerful player as a tiny independent island, nor keep Scotland…”

In fact, should we leave the EU, it would be falling all over itself trying to tie us into a series of trade treaties, for the EU’s annual trade balance with us is over £60 billion in the black. They wouldn’t want to cut off that fiscal nose to spite their economic face, would they?

And follow all its rules? I’d like to see some documentary proof for this claim. Some rules, yes, those reserved for outsiders.

Similarly, when I shop at Sainsbury’s, I follow some supermarket rules: I don’t spit on the floor, I don’t steal anything, I don’t try to jump the checkout queue, I make sure I have enough money to pay for my purchases.

But it doesn’t follow from there that I ought to get a job stacking the store’s shelves, thereby having to obey a whole raft of rules meant for those who work inside, not those outsiders who bring income to the establishment.

As to Britain being a tiny island, this dimensional handicap didn’t prevent the country from being a rather ‘powerful player’ for a millennium or so – and during most of that time size mattered a lot more than it does now.

Mongolia, for example, is five times the size of Britain, which, according to Jenni’s cunning (canine?) calculations, should make Ulaanbaatar replace London as the financial centre of the world. As it is, not many people can spell Ulaanbaatar, or even know what it is.

And Scotland may indeed leave the UK, but the parsimonious Scots would first want the EU to guarantee that it’ll take up the slack formed by the disappearing Westminster welfare payments, £10,374 for every Scot last year. If they get such a deal, they may leave, and if they don’t they won’t – this irrespective of our referendum results.

Jenni then described the interview John Major gave on this subject as ‘electrifying’, an adjective one doubts even his wife Norma or his ex-mistress Edwina has ever applied to Sir John, who’s about as electrifying as a bowl of cold porridge.

His arguments, which so electrified Jenni she was ready to jump through hoops, are baffling even coming from a man of rather modest intelligence.

For example, Sir John firmly believes that leaving the EU would jeopardise our national security, a claim that would have been odd even before the current influx of millions of Muslims of whom hundreds of thousands are probably trained murderers – all courtesy of the EU.

And oh yes, if we left the EU, avers Sir John, our parliament wouldn’t become sovereign because there would still be international laws we’d have to obey. All I can suggest is that Sir John read up on the concept of sovereignty, starting with the dictionary definition.

If Jenni ‘Jack’ Russell really wants to be electrified, she’d do better plugging herself into the mains and throwing the switch… But enough of this wishful thinking.

 

 

 

 

In case you’re wondering, no, I haven’t retrained as a pimp. And even if I had, the supply of virgins this side of kindergarten is so scarce that the price would be considerably higher than €49.50.

Admittedly such a paltry amount wouldn’t buy you a maiden untouched by human hand. But it could buy you the next best thing: a girl who can trick you into believing she is pure as driven snow.

Well, not exactly a girl but an artificial hymen bearing the proud marque of Made in Germany, allaying the market fears about the previous generation of such devices made in China.

As a lifelong supporter of free enterprise, I applaud this instant response of Germany’s celebrated manufacturing industry to the needs of a rapidly expanding market of Muslim migrants.

Oh did I forget to mention that most buyers of this product are Muslim women who have an urgent need to appear more chaste than they are? Sorry, my oversight, but then I thought this went without saying.

You see, Muslim men demand virginity in their brides. Some, one suspects a minority, feel so strongly for religious reasons. Others, one suspects a majority, simply dread comparison and, if rumours are to be believed, with good reason.

Both groups tend to express their displeasure at their women’s sexual past in murderous ways, hence the high demand for the virginity inserts. For girls who sample the erotic delights before marriage the device, featuring two membranes with some freeze-dried blood in between, is thus a life saver.

One grateful Muslim customer provided testimony to that claim: “If the device didn’t exist, neither would I.”

The device can be purchased online, with satisfaction implicitly guaranteed by the manufacturer’s claim “Quality from Germany”. Cars, kitchen appliances or fake hymens – Germans certainly know how to make things, you’ve got to give them that.

Part of the reason for this unblemished record of excellence is the pride German producers take in quality control. The company making VirginiaCare Hymens (an excellent brand name, by the way) is no exception.

“It has been well designed and cannot slip out,” boasts their spokesman. “During sex it provides a natural-seeming result with a trace of blood mixed with body fluids.”

As do all German products, VirginiaCare comes with an extensive usage manual. Quite apart from insertion instructions, the manual reminds customers that “The woman needs to show pain. That is exactly what the man expects from a woman having sex for the first time.”

And, if his expectations are frustrated, he may kill you, though the manual doesn’t put it in quite so many words. Hence thousands of happy customers will be squealing like stuck pigs… Oops, an unfortunate turn of phrase. Make it ‘stuck camels’.

If you still have lingering doubt about the exact value of the cultural contribution being made by the millions of new Muslim arrivals, this bit of news ought to dispel them.

Before you know it the new product will catch on, and Gretchens will join Fatimas in the beeline for VirginiaCare. And what do you know, the growing supply may just collapse the prices pimps charge for virgins, stimulating demand.

Don’t know about culture, but this is definitely good news for the EU economy – at a time when good news is desperately lacking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HMG, as personified by our Heir to Blair, hardly wastes a day to reiterate its commitment to having Turkey admitted into the sanctum of the EU.

Since the country boasts 75 million inhabitants, it’s a fair bet that Dave and his jolly friends are ready to welcome as many Turks as will care to come. I can’t even venture a guess at the possible number – I can’t count as high as that.

Because it’s an article of Dave’s faith that immigrants make invaluable cultural contributions to the panoply of British life, it follows logically that the more Turks come here, the better off we’ll be culturally.

While it’s impossible, or at least ill-advised, to refute this assertion, or to doubt its evidential base, one may still wish to cast the briefest of glances at the behavioural patterns of the 500,000 Turks who are already here.

Most of them keep a low profile, but those who don’t make life interesting in the areas they grace with their presence. They certainly exemplify the benefits of multi-culti diversity, that central prong in the trident of Dave’s faith, staying in the EU and homomarriage being the other two.

The case in point is the feud between two rival import organisations, known in the more refined circles as the Tottenham Boys and the Hackney Bombers. Leaving aside for a second the enriching contributions the two groups make to British culture, let’s just say that the commodity these gentlemen import isn’t listed in the Financial Times.

To be specific, it’s heroin, which makes the two groups not so much import organisations as gangs. To be fair, Turkish or other migrants don’t hold exclusive rights to organised crime in London. The East End had its Krays, South London had its Richardsons, and I’m sure there are some worthy successors operating today.

Those chaps couldn’t be confused with choirboys either, and things like torture and murder were their stock in trade. They didn’t need any lessons in violence from Turks or anyone else but, since it’s cultural inputs we’re talking about, they went about their business in a, well, British way. It was a pragmatic fight for territory, both figuratively and literally speaking.

If their business interests clashed, bloodletting ensued. If a member of the Krays’ gang showed his face in the Richardsons’ patch, it was all his life was worth. Nor could a Richardson venturing into the Krays’ domain count on serious life expectancy. The lines were clearly drawn, and it was all quite rational, within certain limits.

The Turks, on the other hand, go about their affairs the Turkish way or rather the Muslim way, where blood feuds neither die nor fade away. They are a gift that keeps on giving, and rational considerations need not apply.

Hence a little punch-up outside a Finsbury Park snooker club back in 2009 has escalated over the next six years into a string of 30 violent incidents, including several murders.

One of the parties to the snooker fisticuffs was a member of the Tottenham Boys, otherwise known as Tottenham Turks, while the other proudly belonged to the Hackney Bombers. Whichever gentleman came off the poor second in the exchange of slaps vowed revenge, which solemn oath automatically involved his heroin-importing colleagues.

Their friend’s honour was offended and blood alone could rinse the affront away. Sure enough, blood was spilled, which put the boot on the other foot. The avengers became the target of vengeance, and so forth, with the pendulum swinging ad infinitum.

The last or, more precisely, latest incident occurred the other day, when two of the Tottenham Boys were being taken to Wood Green Crown Court to be sentenced for attempted hits on various Hackney Bombers (one wonders how they got their name).

The police van was attacked, and in the ensuing shootout the Turkish population of London was reduced by one gun slinger. His death diminishes us all, to paraphrase John Donne, for the cultural contribution of the Turkish community becomes less.

Anticipating the de rigueur objection that only a small proportion of the London Turks indulge in murder and heroin pushing, that’s doubtless true. Yet what interests me now isn’t so much percentages as absolute numbers.

Without leaving the realm of mathematical probability, one could venture a guess that, when the Turkish population of Britain grows, say, four-fold, so will the number of people flouting British laws and indeed the British ways of going through life.

Actually, the growth in crime rate will probably outpace the numerical increase, for at present most Turkish people in Britain come not from Turkey but from Cyprus, which is considerably more civilised than, for example, Anatolia.

Hence, if Dave and his EU friends get their wish and Turkey joins this wicked contrivance, we have a veritable carnage to look forward to. That, however, will be offset by the massive enrichment of our cultural life.

Specifically, one could mention… well, all sorts of things. None springs to mind offhand, but I’ll catch you later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not many, is the answer to this one. Actually Dave can do the job all by himself.

Britain used to be loved by her friends, hated by her enemies and respected by both. Now the extreme emotions have given way to indifference at best, and contempt at worst and more commonly.

Our Heir to Blair isn’t solely responsible for this shift, but he can take credit for rapidly making it irreversible. His present campaign to stay in the EU at any cost while pretending to be ready to leave is a case in point.

Dave’s opening shot in what he risibly calls negotiations with the EU was to make it known in no uncertain terms that he’d campaign for staying no matter what the result. Hardly a strong negotiating position, one would think, and it went downhill from there.

For Dave didn’t demand a meal; he asked for a few bones off the EU table. Specifically, he begged for permission to withhold benefits from immigrants for the first four years of their presence at these shores.

If he, and by association what once was Great Britain, were held in anything other than contempt, the federasts would have tossed him his bone and sent him off to the corner to gnaw on it.

Dave would have stopped pretending to be a negotiator and reverted to what he does best: being a spiv. He would have portrayed that largely meaningless concession as a huge triumph of his diplomacy, removing the last doubts about membership in this evil contrivance.

As it was, the federasts didn’t even feel they had to let Dave gorge himself on the fatty gristle. They simply said no, leaving our governing spiv at a loose end and his poor, once great country in her historically unprecedented role of a laughing stock.

Dave’s bluff was called and he was found out not even to be holding a low pair. And how the bastards gloat!

They are talking about Dave’s ‘half-hearted attempts’ to beg for concessions, his ‘empty threats’ to leave the EU, his showing ‘no respect’, his having ‘no clear strategy’, ‘playing to the galleries’ and so forth, ad nauseam.

To add injury to insult, the IMF head Christine Lagarde said that uncertainty over the referendum “is not terribly helpful” and could destroy Britain’s economy – presumably as comprehensively as Miss Lagarde herself devastated France’s economy in her previous capacity of finance minister.

It takes utter contempt for the two millennia of our history even to contemplate in a delirious sleep the possibility of surrendering Britain’s sovereignty to this extension of the Third Reich by other means.

And it takes craven, self-serving idiocy to do so now, when this wicked setup has shown its impotence in handling any serious problem worthy of the name – when its moribund economy is only held together by a briskly operating printing press, when it lies defenceless against any fanatic with a gun, when it’s inundated with millions of Muslims openly proclaiming their aim of turning Europe into an Islamic caliphate by the sheer strength of numbers backed up with the odd massacre.

Against the background of Britain rapidly becoming the butt of derisive jokes, the Mail made some of the points above but then undid the good work by expressing the hope that the Heir to Blair will now lead a campaign for Brexit:  

“That would need leadership and courage – qualities that, in the past, Mr Cameron has shown he possesses in abundance.”

The leadership and courage Dave possesses can fit into the ink cartridge of the fountain pen with which he’ll sign a multi-million contract for speaking engagements at the end of his tenure.

Our press, even its worthier, conservative end, seems to live not just in virtual reality but on a faraway planet, where the news of Dave’s pathetic spivery will only reach in  a few light years.

The rest of cringe in disgust and recoil in horror.