Category: Blog

That today’s Conservative party, as led and personified by Dave, has nothing to do with conservatism hardly needs any further proof. Yet Dave has kindly provided it.

Just look at the post-election developments that have already happened, and consider some that are bound to happen.

First, the cabinet reshuffle. Dave and his house-trained media are proudly bellowing all over the country that a third of the cabinet are now women. Yet to any conservative this is neither good nor bad – it ought to be irrelevant.

We ought to be governed by those best qualified to do so, regardless of any other characteristics. The brouhaha about the sex of our cabinet ministers shows that Dave et al have fully bought into the destructive agenda of the New Age.

For one thing, this sort of thing is demeaning to such cabinet members as Theresa May, who would be sufficiently qualified even if born with a different chromosome mix. And should Sajid Javid, an eminently accomplished young man, think he got promoted as a sop to a different branch of New Age philosophy? What about Robert Halfon who, as a crippled Jew, ticks two boxes?

The most important thing, however, is that those triumphant dispatches spell yet another obituary to parliamentary conservatism. As does Dave’s restated commitment to replacing the EU Human Rights Act with our own Bill of Rights.

Ditching the former is an idea long overdue – Britain has nothing to learn about human rights from Strasbourg or Brussels. But it’s important not only to do the right thing, but also to do it for the right reasons. For example, respect for our history, sovereignty and constitutional tradition is a good reason for wishing to leave the EU. Hating foreigners is not.

A new Bill of Rights would be only marginally less subversive than the Human Rights Act. It’s a way of saying to the EU not to bother about destroying our constitutional tradition. We can do the job ourselves.

We certainly don’t need another Bill of Rights, considering we already had one in 1689. Actually, we didn’t need that Lockean concoction either, but that’s a different story. What matters is that Dave’s legal thought seems to be anchored to a system of positive law prevalent on the continent.

Our common, precedent-based law doesn’t need to be codified in a single document: it comes not from a state diktat but from experience lovingly gathered and extensively tested over generations.

If Dave is unaware of this, it’s most unfortunate. But if he knows what’s what but talks about bills of rights regardless, it’s much worse. He has accepted the language, and therefore the thought, of those whose legal tradition isn’t only different from ours but is diametrically opposite to it.

The French, for example, even those supposedly on the right of the political spectrum, have unconditional étatism (of which positive law is part and parcel) as part of their DNA. Even those who have nothing but contempt for fascism, would find little wrong with Mussolini’s slogan “all within the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state”.

This adulation of the central state is remarkably different from the politics based on devolving power to the lowest sensible level, and ultimately to the individual. The French and other continentals mistakenly ascribe this, to them, quaint practice to les Anglo-Saxons, whereas in fact it springs from the political, originally theological, tradition of Chirstendom.

Even cursory familiarity with European history will show that a culture emanating from the central state isn’t conducive to political stability. We’ve had roughly the same system of government since 1688 (fundamentally, much longer), and I won’t bother you with enumerating the different political systems the French and the Germans have had in the same period. If I tried to do so, I’d quickly run out of fingers on both hands and toes on both feet.

Even though I doubt that Dave understands such things fully, he is clearly a European federalist at heart, which is why he’s desperate to codify – and thereby contradict – millennia-old English laws in a written document.

His approach to the EU referendum comes from the same source. The very promise to hold this plebiscite was wrought out of Dave by the rise of Ukip, which he saw as a threat to his political survival.

Dave never made any secret of his intent to campaign for the IN vote, provided he could extract some mythical concessions from Brussels. He and his ilk pretend not to realise that the EU is a totalitarian setup and, as such, will only ever offer temporary and meaningless concessions if Brexit looks likely otherwise.

Once those crumbs off the Brussels table have been thrown in our direction, Dave feels that the combined weight of our own and EU propaganda will swing the vote his way, burying British sovereignty for any foreseeable future.

Now he has let it be known that he plans to hold the referendum even earlier than the promised date of late 2017. Why such sudden haste?

The educated guess is that Dave wants to exploit the euphoria that supposedly followed his electoral victory. As one of our dailies put it, he can now take the Tory party anywhere he wants. And since he wants to take it to the IN vote in the referendum, his erstwhile adversaries on the left will joyously march in step.

This election has shown that a broad constituency for real conservatism doesn’t exist in Britain, and now Dave is demonstrating that neither does a major party with a taste for it. Let’s just hope that Ukip will come back with a vengeance and – this time – a coherent conservative programme. And enough firepower to affect the consensus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The other day I received a call from my friend Vlad, who, as a Christian of recent vintage, generously doesn’t hold my loving criticism of him against me.

Alex, he said, how are you, me old China, yob tvoyu mat? [China is very much on Vlad’s mind these days, and the Russian words roughly mean ‘as I live and breathe’.] He was going, he continued, to copy me on a letter he was about to send to our mutual friend Dave, but only if I promised to keep it strictly off the record.

I had to explain to Vlad that no such promise was necessary because publishing the letter without his explicit permission would violate every tenet of journalistic ethics I hold dear. So here’s the letter:

Dear Dave,

Sorry I missed you at our victory celebration, but then I understand you have your own victory to celebrate. Congratulations on that, from the bottom of my heart and from Medvedev’s bottom as well.

Now I hope you won’t mind a piece of avuncular advice, but your first order of the day must be to prevent the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the 21^st century, the breakup of the English Union. (The breakup of the Soviet Union was such a catastrophe in the 20^th century.)

When all those marginal folk in the outer reaches of the metropolis begin to get ideas above their station, a strong leader must step in and sort them out. I am such a strong leader, as Comrade Hitchens can confirm, and you can learn from my experience.

Your solution to the problem of Scotland has to be the same as mine to the problem of the Ukraine because both problems are strikingly similar, and I use the word ‘strikingly’ advisedly.

Both provinces (don’t ever call them ‘countries’ – that’ll make the bastards even more uppity) joined the respective metropolises voluntarily, centuries ago, and they’ve both been treated better than they deserve – something they’ve repaid with rank ingratitude.

In both provinces, the minorities speaking the metropolitan language are savagely oppressed by the aboriginal barbarians. In your case the situation is even worse: as I understand, the English-speaking minority in Scotland makes up 99 per cent of the population, even if the English they speak sounds like they’re deaf-mutes learning how to talk.

Both provinces have been taken over by fascist-nationalist gangs. Both now want to leave the fraternal union with the metropolis to become lackeys to EU, and therefore US, fascism.

Both profess hatred for the core population of the Union and threaten to break it up. This in spite of the word ‘Ukraine’ meaning ‘outskirts of Russia’, and the areas where most Scottish fascists live aren’t called ‘low’ lands for nothing.

Seems like your Scots are demanding more money as a condition for staying in the Sov… I mean English Union. If you give it to them, you’ll only be repeating the same mistake we made. After all, we’ve been feeding the Ukies for centuries, apart from the minor hiatus in 1932-1933 which they themselves engineered (for details, read our history textbooks). And the more we feed them, the more they want to be fed by someone else.

Similar problems call for similar solutions, and I hope you take a leaf out of my book, written by history’s ablest administrator and greatest military leader Comrade Stalin.

First thing to do, Dave, me old China, is to nationalise your clothing factories and switch their whole production to cranking out checked men’s skirts, which I believe those Scots fascists call kilts. (Incidentally, their preference for that garment proves they’re all ‘blue’, that’s the Russian for poofters. Once you’re in charge, I’ll teach you how to sort them out.)

When you’ve got a few thousand skirts, you can denationalise the factories, meaning give them as loyalty rewards to your close mates. Then put the skirts on your best troops and teach them how to talk funny.

The rest is a matter of speed, decisiveness and leadership. You put your shirted and skirted troops on personnel carriers and tanks, both of them. (Only kidding, Dave, I know you have more than two. Just.) Make sure the vehicles have no British decals, that goes without saying.

Then deploy your artillery and missiles close to the border and pound the living govno (that’s the Russian for you know what) out of everything within range. That done, send in the skirts.

Make sure they scream a few local phrases, those that apply to the situation, such as Heid doon arse up! (‘ere we go in proper English), A clean shirt’ll do ye! (you’re toast, mate) and Haud yer wheesht! (shut up or I’ll blow your head off).

Once the skirts have taken over most of the province, turn to your papers, which by now you should have given as loyalty rewards to your best mates. Tell them to fill every page with simple messages, such as:

England has nothing to do with it. This is a spontaneous uprising by Scottish patriots out to liberate their province from Judaeo-Americano-European fascists. The patriots want to restore the province to the legitimate government illegally overthrown at the instigation of US-EU fascist-capitalist cliques.

Job done, problem solved – and you’ve risked next to nothing. Those EU fascists may hit you with sanctions, but they won’t really mean it. They sell more to you than you to them, so give them a few months and Boris is your uncle.

It’s a win-win situation, Dave, me old China. The important thing is not to own up to anything, even if the fascists find British army dog tags on the soldiers they kill or capture (there won’t be many). Just say they’ve planted them, which is exactly the kind of perfidy one expects from skirt-wearing transvestites.

Let me know how you get on – and keep in touch through our mutual friend Alex. He’s a trusted old boot.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How could the polls get it so wrong? Every newspaper is asking this question, in so many words or otherwise. The answer is simple: they didn’t.

Allow me to explain what I mean.

When it comes to polling, gathering information is a purely technical task. The art and science come in when the information is being digested and interpreted.

To begin with, we must realise the natural limitation of electoral polls: they apply mathematics to what can be properly understood only through less numerical disciplines, such as history, psychology (individual and collective), philosophy and even – as God is my witness – theology.

Only these can elucidate human behaviour, and even then not with absolute certainty. Counting heads is very different from counting beans: beans don’t think, change views, dissemble, emote. Heads do.

Statistics can help, but it’s unrealistic to expect that a survey of a few thousand people will yield an unfailing clue to how millions will behave on election day.

This isn’t to say that polls are useless – only that we shouldn’t get our expectations up too high. However, there’s always a pearl underneath the manure heap of statistical data. The trick is to find it.

With that lengthy preamble in mind, let’s look at the polls that allegedly got everything so wrong.

In the run-up to the election, many observers were asking why-oh-why questions. Why is a party with ostensibly such a strong economic record in government locked in a dead heat with a party whose stated intent is to introduce more of the same policies that proved so catastrophic the last time Labour was in power?

My answer to that question was that the British electorate had been thoroughly corrupted by several generations of socialism. To accelerate that process, the state – regardless of which party runs it – has made growing numbers of voters dependent on it for their livelihood.

It doesn’t matter whether this dependence comes as social handouts or government jobs. The greater the number of people with a vested interest in public spending, the more likely the electoral success of a party that promises more public spending.

The election results would hinge, I suggested, not on what people say to those pests who ask them personal questions, but on whether or not the number of such dependents has reached a certain critical mass.

It’s not just those who sponge off the state or work for it. It’s also large groups of people who have been corrupted by more subtle and gradual methods than transfers of cash.

Hence the critical mass may also include inveterate class warriors, those who hate the toffs or anyone with money (this often despite themselves being wealthy).

Then there are those moral individuals who simply want to do the right thing, thereby looking good to others and, more important, to themselves. Alas, it takes intelligent people, their numbers reduced by our oxymoronic comprehensive education, to know what the right thing is.

I said a few days ago that I didn’t know whether the catastrophic critical mass had been reached, and the election results show it hasn’t. Not yet. But it soon will be, which the polls showed beyond reasonable doubt.

Juxtaposing poll findings with election results, one can see that masses of people had said they’d vote Labour but in fact voted Tory.

Why they voted Tory is easy enough to understand once we’ve realised that the critical mass of corruption hasn’t yet been reached. People who still have one foot in real life would rather defer the economic, social and geopolitical catastrophe that Labour would predictably have ushered in.

That much is boringly obvious. The interesting question is, why did so many of such residually sane persons lie they’d vote Labour when they were buttonholed by those inquisitive pollsters?

Simple. It’s no longer socially acceptable to admit one’s conservative convictions. For millions of people, doing so is now tantamount to delivering this mantra:

“I am a soulless materialist who doesn’t give a flying, well, whatever flies, for anything other than my narrow, selfish interests. The poor should eat one another, the environment has done nothing for me, I hate Johnny Foreigner, I hope every endangered species will be caught in a wind turbine and die, breaking the bloody contraption in the process. And oh yes, I think a woman should stay in the kitchen with a mattress tied to her back. Did I mention I’m also a racist, homophobe and global-warming denier? Well, I am.”

In other words, socialism has successfully claimed high moral ground by setting the terms of debate. Hence for many people admitting to a preference for the slightly less socialist party, the Tories, spells an admission to moral failure.

They may be prepared to buck the Zeitgeist in deed, but not yet in word. But the word wasn’t just at the beginning of the world; it’s also at the beginning of politics.

Whoever controls language controls thought – and deed won’t lag far behind. Modern totalitarians know this, and all modern governments are totalitarian in their aspirations, if not yet their methods.

Now, let me stick my neck out: I refused to make predictions before this election, but I’m willing to make one for the future.

Labour will regroup, recut their camouflage in the Blair style, allay some of the shameful, selfish fears people have for the future of their families and their country, and ride the high horse of their phoney morality to a landslide.

This may happen in five years or sooner, depending on how big a mess the Tories will make, and how quickly. Meanwhile let’s thank God it hasn’t happened already. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos of Dave grinning pretty for the camera, his arm around Sam, are emetic. But not, one has to admit, as much as photos of Ed indulging in public foreplay with Nicola Sturgeon would be. (They’re probably not involved, but you can forgive me for getting the wrong impression.)

The day is also brightened up by the demise of the LibDems, who have lost most of their parliamentary party to the Tories, the popular vote to Ukip and some of their big hitters to oblivion.

Vince Cable, Danny Alexander, Simon Hughes are all gone on to new careers, and Charles Kennedy can now devote all his time, as opposed to most of it, to falling down the stairs at Westminster pubs (a delightful sight to which I have personally been treated once or twice).

This raises the question of how Paddy Ashdown likes his hat cooked. He did after all promise to eat it if the exit polls painted a true picture of the LibDem downfall.

I trust Paddy’s taste in culinary matters though: he has a house in Burgundy not far from mine, and most Brits living in France are foodies. Perhaps stewing a hat in a local Irancy wine would make it palatable, but I’d rather not offer unsolicited advice. Bon appétit, Paddy!

My vote for Ukip didn’t dent the Tory majority in our constituency, as I knew it wouldn’t. With a landslide of 62.9 per cent of the vote, the incumbent Tory candidate fell just short of Putin’s support, but at least no ballot boxes were stuffed, nor any observers crippled.

There’s doom and gloom at Ukip this morning, but the party should look on the bright side. It has scored a triumphant result in popular vote, coming in third, though a disappointing one in parliamentary seats, being on course to a mere two as I write this. Moreover, Ukip finished second in 100 constituencies, increasing its 2010 score by, well, 100.

This has led to a predictable outcry to ditch the first-past-the-post system (FPTP), a cause so far dear mostly to the LibDems. This makes Ukippers sound too much like sore losers, a group never held in high esteem anywhere, and especially in Britain.

We can’t abandon an institution that has served well for centuries just because we don’t like what it’s doing today. This is too myopic and selfish for words.

Ukip’s chief appeal (to me, at any rate) is that it has the potential to become a real conservative party, as opposed to the bogus one presently usurping the name. They could thus fill a slot that may not be very wide but is still sizeable.

However, playing fast and loose with the constitution isn’t a good way of establishing conservative credentials. FPTP has persevered for centuries because it has been successful in ensuring political stability, a quality appealing not only to the English national character but also to foreign investors.

The system also reflects the underlying conviction, now terrifyingly on its way out, that there is such a thing as society, and people are its members, as distinct from atomised individuals.

Communities are the building blocks of society, just as families are the building blocks of communities. It has been assumed for centuries that those within a community have interests similar enough to be represented effectively and justly as a collective, rather than individual, entity.

This assumption has at times produced a disparity between popular vote and parliamentary representation. Hence FPTP merits another look, especially because Blairite gerrymandering created a situation where a Labour seat can be secured with fewer votes than any other party’s. But a reform shouldn’t mean destruction – or, in this case, introducing a system in which marginal parties hold government to ransom.

It’s true that, for a party supported by 3,000,000 voters, having only two MPs (the number currently projected) is unfair. Those of us who voted Ukip have every reason to feel hard done by.

But we ought to console ourselves by the thought that such concerns are transient, while the constitution is transcendent (for validation, refer to Romans 13:1 or, in a more secular mood, Reflections on the Revolution in France).

Rather than bemoaning what might – or should – have been, the party ought to congratulate itself on its huge achievements and stock up its reservoirs of patience. The Treaty of Rome wasn’t built in a day, as the saying doesn’t really go, and neither is a party hoping to repeal it.

FPTP makes it hard for third parties to become kings, but they can still act as king makers.

By the time by-elections roll along, the Tories will have made a sufficient hash of things for Ukip to beef up its parliamentary presence to a point where it could exert an even more telling effect on British politics. If nothing else, the party could push the Tories, kicking and screaming, further in the right direction.

None of us should pretend that good has triumphed. Most people weren’t so much enamoured of the Tories as horrified by the thought of a government in which Miliband’s wires would be pulled by the SNP, whose principal sentiment is hatred of the English.

That, alas, is what British politics has become: faced with the evil of two lessers, voters opt for the lesser of two evils. All we can do now is sit tight and wait to see which of his promises Dave will break first this time.

My vote goes to his promise not to contest another election.

Voting Ukip, said Iain Duncan Smith, Tory Secretary for Work and Pensions, is like writing a suicide note.

Much to my detractors’ chagrin, it’s only in the sense of that simile that I’m going to kill myself on election day.

This desperate act will be done in the serene knowledge that I won’t be taking anyone with me: in my constituency, the Tories enjoy a majority even Putin would envy – and they don’t have to stuff the ballot boxes or cripple anyone trying to stop them doing so.

Would I still vote Ukip if it mattered? If this could mean letting Labour in? My emphatic, unequivocal and resolute answer is that I don’t know. Perhaps. Probably. Unless my right wrist went on strike at the last moment.

I wouldn’t respect myself Friday morning, gagging at the sight of Ed grinning smugly from TV screens. But then I’d learn to live with it, confident as I am that the difference between the two sets of subversive nonentities, though not nonexistent, isn’t as great as they claim.

Writers more secure in their understanding of the intricacies of strategic, tactical or tactico-strategic voting, will tell you which way you should go. I don’t presume to be qualified to do so.

All I can suggest is that you vote your conscience, leaving the subversive nonentities and their groupies in the press to figure out the strategy and tactics. They have to earn their keep somehow.

Just decide which party you hate the least (I doubt many people love any of them, unless paid to) and vote accordingly.

And, if you know how to pray, do so. Whichever way you vote, Britain will go to the dogs without God’s help. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A new book, Le Corbusier: A French Fascism by Xavier de Jarcy, cites evidence showing that the Franco-Swiss architect not only held fascist and anti-Semitic views, but was in fact a member of a militant fascist group.

“Personally, I was very shocked,” says the author. “I found it hard to accept. You need time to absorb that kind of information.”

Personally, I’m not shocked at all. And I don’t need any time to absorb that information. For Le Corbusier’s totalitarian outlook can be easily inferred not only from his writings but, more tellingly, from his day job.

Le Corbusier’s architectural ideas, realised or otherwise, scream fascism as loudly as anything produced by Albert Speer or other exponents of totalitarianism by artistic means.

Unlike Speer, however, Le Corbusier left a legacy of lasting damage, as so appropriately demonstrated by Centre Pompidou in Paris, the venue of the current exhibition of the architect’s work.

Le Corbusier is one of France’s cultural heroes, which makes him a demigod there. Criticism therefore equates blasphemy, to which the French respond with vigour only outdone by the Muslims.

So far Mr Jarcy hasn’t been eviscerated, beheaded or even shot, but the verbal violence to which he has been exposed is quite virulent.

Jarcy, says Frederic Migayrou, one of the exhibition’s curators, is a headline-grabber out “to create a media event”, tabloid-style.

Most of the evidence the wretch quotes, says the curator, is dated. Actually that’s hardly surprising, considering that Le Corbusier died in 1965 and hence has been unable to provide any fresh evidence in the intervening 50 years.

And “all the quotations on racism or fascism came from… private correspondence.” Presumably that makes the evidence inadmissable.

Then came the clincher, giving the lie to Jarcy’s insinuations: “Le Corbusier was also in contact with many architects close to communism [and] people thought he was a communist in exactly the same way.”

Mr Migayrou obviously thinks that fascism and communism are so incompatible that championing one precludes any association with the other.

This is nonsense, which can be confirmed in a couple of minutes by anyone glancing at reproductions of works by Nazi, Fascist and Soviet painters or sculptors, depicting the same muscular men and sinewy-breasted women holding up the institutional symbols of their ideology.

The swastika, fasces or hammer and sickle are incidental there. What matters is the spirit, or rather absence thereof. We aren’t looking at works of art – we’re looking at totalitarianism executed in pigment, stone or bronze.

The same goes for totalitarian architecture, except that it doesn’t just make an artistic statement. It also tells people how they must live, and even though at times various fascist ideologies differ aesthetically, they’re all united in their shared commitment to dehumanising humans.

Le Corbusier’s work screams totalitarianism in concrete, his preferred material. He didn’t care which totalitarian was in power, as long as Le Corbusier was his architect. Stalin, Laval, Mussolini, Hitler could all look at his designs and smile in that kindly, avuncular way of theirs.

That Le Corbusier was talented is as indisputable as it’s irrelevant. Albert Speer also had talent, and so did Miron Merzhanov, Stalin’s personal architect. This only goes to show that, when driven by evil motives, a talented man can do more harm than a hack.

When you see today’s ugly, impersonal concrete structures giving parts of great European cities that unmistakeably Soviet je ne sais quoi, think of Le Corbusier. Think of him specifically in London, when looking at the Southbank, the Barbican or whole areas of tower blocks. It’s his vision, albeit executed by less talented men.

But never mind areas. Le Corbusier thought on the scale of whole cities, which he wanted to build or rebuild to the stencil he had in his fecund mind.

Of course rebuilding cities that already exist, such as Paris or Moscow, first means wiping the slate clean. That was exactly what Le Corbusier proposed to whomever was willing to listen, from Vichy to Stalin.

He wasn’t the only one, it has to be said. For example, at roughly the same time Kazimir Malevich proposed that the Kremlin, St Basil’s and the Bolshoi all be replaced with structures more in keeping with the technological Zeitgeist.

Le Corbusier’s Plan Voisin proposed to perpetrate similar vandalism in Paris, and then on all continents. “Oslo, Moscow, Berlin, Paris, Algiers, Port Said, Rio or Buenos Aires,” Le Corbusier wrote, “the solution is the same since it answers the same needs.”

He was particularly inspired by Gamla Stan, Stockholm’s charming Old Town. Le Corbusier could never see such a place without wishing to replace it with his mass-produced monstrosities, and he proposed to do just that.

No surprises there: totalitarians worship at the altar of uniformity. There was only one right way, and only Le Corbusier knew what it was.

The right way à la Le Corbusier was not only to drive people into soulless, inhuman slabs of concrete, but also to take their streets away. Not for him were places where people could walk, shop, chat with their neighbours.

He strove to replace streets with roads, zipping by his concrete boxes or, better still, underneath them, with the whole city raised on to stilts for that purpose. The stilts idea didn’t really catch on, but one can see cities of roads rather than streets all over America.

Antoni Gaudi, an architect at least equal to Le Corbusier in talent, sought to incorporate his own ideas into the existing townscape, enriching rather than destroying it. For Le Corbusier that sort of thing was too namby-pamby for words.

Masonry walls, according to him, had no right to exist, Gothic architecture was incoherent because it ignored primary forms – concrete and glass were God, and Le Corbusier was his prophet.

There’s no point arguing whether Le Corbusier was a fascist, communist or neither. He resided in that dark area where all totalitarians converge in their desire to override human nature and bend people to their will by every available means, violent, political, social – or architectural.

 

 

For someone who has self-admittedly been writing about British politics for 25 years, Miss Daley doesn’t seem to have a firm grasp of this subject.

“I have never ceased to be in awe of the pre-eminent common sense of British voters,” she writes, and on this superstition she bases her hope, nay, near-certainty that the “unelectable joke” Ed will be kept away from Downing Street.

I’ve used the word ‘superstition’ advisedly, for this is the proper term for a certainty that has no rational or evidential basis. In that, a superstition differs from both scientific fact and true religious faith.

Miss Daley does try to produce evidence for the Brits’ “unimpeachably sagacious electoral judgement”, but in doing so she pathetically emphasises the weakness of her belief.

She cites the 2011 referendum on the change to the single-transferrable-vote system as an example of the electorate’s awesome wisdom displayed by its putting “two fingers up to the great Progressive Alliance”.

Credulous Miss Daley seems to believe that most Brits are capable of weighing the pros and cons of that system against first-past-the-post or proportional representation to arrive at the conclusion that, when all is said and done, the existing system is more in keeping with the country’s constitutional tradition.

I’d like to know the address of the planet she is living on. Assuming that the property prices there are reasonable, that’s clearly the place to be.

Here on earth, where we are stuck for the moment, a fair assessment would be that 90 per cent of the electorate don’t know their electoral systems from a hole in the ground. If they happened to vote right that once, it’s not because of their intimate familiarity with the ins and outs of constitutional conundrums, but because they don’t give a whit one way or the other. Hence it’s easier to keep things as they are.

While praising the unimpeachable sagacity of British voters, it’s useful to remember that we’re talking about the same people who three times in a row (in 1997, 2001 and 2005) voted in the worst and most destructive government in British history.

Only the 2008 economic crisis, largely the work of the Labour government, put an end to that orgy of stupid irresponsibility, and then only partially.

Hence Miss Daley’s consternation: if the Brits self-evidently boast unimpeachable electoral sagacity, then how is it that the Tories, who aren’t “that bad”, are locked neck-in-neck with the same party that produced the economic debacle – and is still led by the same people who were directly responsible for it.

This creates a very real possibility that next week we’ll be governed by a coalition of the “unelectable joke” and the SNP, a party that has all the disgusting qualities of Labour and then some, which addendum includes all-abiding hatred for the dominant population of these Isles.

Miss Daley rebukes the Tories for reducing the argument to the purely actuarial data of pounds and pence. However, it’s the only argument that can possibly keep Dave in truncated power: appeals, say, to tradition, social cohesion or, God forbid, the constitutional integrity of the United Kingdom would just confuse our sagacious voters – not to mention the fact that they’d sound hollow coming from Dave.

The problem with modern democracy, however, isn’t that voters can at times be persuaded to vote the wrong way, but that they can be first corrupted and then bribed into doing so.

Socialists get into power not because they persuade people of the benefits of socialism but because they gradually make people dependent on it.

This election won’t be decided on the Tories’ economic or any other performance as compared to Labour’s. The decisive factor will be the number of voters who depend on government spending wholly or partly.

If that number has reached the critical mass, Labour or some Labour-led coalition will carry the day. If it hasn’t, the Tories may have a chance (not that they deserve it, but this is another matter).

Considering that about 50 per cent of the UK economy is public, which is to say more or less socialist, one suspects that the critical mass either has already been reached, or is about to be.

The very premise of our modern democracy run riot is that first every person will vote on his narrow selfish interest, and then the sum of millions exercising petty selfishness will add up to public virtue.

This is another superstition, based as it is on two false premises: first, that, given modern ‘progressive’ education, voters know where their real interests lie; and second, that they are incorruptible.

It takes an exaggerated faith in human goodness, of the kind Miss Daley evinces, to believe that someone on welfare and in some cushy government sinecure, will realise that his long-term interests will be served better not by a suicidal growth in government spending, but by sound economic policy.

And it takes rank idiocy to assume that such voters will be altruistically prepared to forgo further handouts for the sake of public good and vote for a party that seems to be marginally less destructive in that respect.

This isn’t to make a firm prediction that we’ll be regaled with the sorry spectacle of Ed at 10 Downing Street. However, the matter of which nonentity will occupy the quarters at that address won’t be decided by the awesome sagacity of the electorate.

It hinges solely on whether or not the critical mass of corruption has been reached. If it has, then the purely rational arguments on the comparative merits of the Tories and Labour will have nothing but onanistic value.

One way or the other, one hopes that those voters who still read the papers will eventually be able to rely on more “unimpeachably sagacious” opinion-formers than Miss Daley. Opinions formed by her, kindly speaking, superficial musings will have nothing but destructive value.

In its support of three-way marriages, the Green Party is ahead of its time, though not by much.

The party leader Natalie Bennett says she’s open to the idea, as she’s no doubt open to many other ideas that she hasn’t yet vouchsafed to public knowledge.

In other words, she is open to the idea of breaking the law, which still proscribes bigamy.

But I have to be thankful to Natalie for expanding my vocabulary. Turns out there’s an official term for such marriages: they are called ‘polyamorous’ and not, for example, triamorous, polygenous or polyandral.

The preference of ‘poly-’ over ‘tri-’ suggests many exciting future possibilities which so far have only been explored by Mormons and Muslims. But why should those ‘M’ persons have all the fun?

More important, why should people with such reserves of love be treated without the respect they so richly deserve?

As my new friend Natalie puts it, “The Green Party supports campaigns to advance LGBTIQ rights and aims to build a society where everyone is valued, respected and empowered, regardless of their sexuality or gender identity.”

Thanks are again in order, for my vocabulary has again been enlarged: I had to look up LGBTIQ. I already knew that the first four letters of the acronym stand for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what IQ had to do with it.

Are those cursed with high IQ being abused? I can believe that: intelligent people have to follow the current election campaign willy-nilly and, if that doesn’t constitute abuse, I don’t know what would. But it turns out that in this context the initials stand for ‘Intergender and Queer’, which is rather the opposite of high IQ.

The word ‘intergender’ means ‘between sexes’, which seems to describe any normal relationship, including the kind sanctified by the church. And the colloquial term ‘queer’ is in this case redundant because the underlying notions are already covered by the first four initials of the acronym.

There’s some intellectual muddle there somewhere, and I am open to the idea, as the saying goes, of replacing those two letters with ETC, leaving the door open for unlimited future expansion in the Green Party platform.

Two words in Natalie’s statement that made me slightly worried are ‘everyone’ and ‘empowered’. Of course nowadays ‘valued’ and ‘respected’ have to be accepted without demur on pain of social rebuke, ostracism and possibly legal prosecution.

It has been communicated to us all in no uncertain terms that a person who copulates with a member of the same sex, and/or has some sex organs detached or else sewn on, must be ‘valued’ and ‘respected’ not in spite of such acts but specifically because of them.

But ‘everyone’ and ‘empowered’? To do what exactly? The mind boggles, if we are now communicating in new-fangled colloquialisms, but I’ll spare you the description of numerous possibilities. Let’s just say that, if I were a ewe or a ram, I’d be nervous.

The Greens, so ably led by my new friend Natalie, also propose “mandatory HIV, sex and relationship education – age appropriate and LGBTIQ inclusive – in all schools from primary level onwards.”

Whereas empowering everyone to do anything may strike one as a smidgen too inclusive, the educational statement is almost shamefully restricting. What about tots attending crèches and kindergartens? We don’t want them to feel insufficiently ‘valued, respected and empowered’, now do we?

Under no circumstances must we waste those first, formative years of children’s lives. We don’t want their education to be as incomplete as mine had been until I found out what ‘LGBTIQ’ and ‘polyamorous’ mean.

Ignore the little ones at your peril, I say. They may grow up unwilling to vote for the Green Party, and where will the country be then? In the doldrums, that’s where.

It’s good to see that those wishing to destroy the last vestiges of traditional civility and morality have such a broad choice of parties to vote for. Yet of all the available options, and there are several, I’d recommend the Greens – they seem to be leading the pack, albeit with others in hot pursuit.

 

 

What do the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany have in common with today’s France, Italy, Finland and most other members of the EU?

Quite a few things, actually. But the one springing to mind today is that they all celebrate 1 May as a national holiday.

Red flags are flying everywhere, just as they flew in the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany, if with different superimposed symbols.

The livery of national socialism has fallen into disrepute, and most political parties in Europe feel rather squeamish about it. Not so with the pictorial and vocal symbols of international socialism.

The conferences of our own dear Labour party, for example, are adorned with red flags and accompanied by rousing renditions of The Internationale, whose original lyrics were produced by Eugène Pottier in 1871, during the heady days of the Paris Commune.

It’s only fitting that on this glorious day you should be regaled with the full English translation. After all, in a week’s time we may well be governed by chaps who belt out these lyrics with gusto:

 

Stand up, damned of the Earth

Stand up, prisoners of starvation

Reason thunders in its volcano

This is the eruption to the end.

Of the past let us make a clean state

Enslaved masses, stand up, stand up.

The world is about to change its foundation

We are nothing, let us be all.

 

(Refrain):

This is the final struggle

Let us group together, and tomorrow

The Internationale

Will be the human race.

 

There are no supreme saviours

Neither God, nor Caesar, nor tribune.

Producers, let us save ourselves,

Decree the common salvation.

So that the thief expires,

So that the spirit be pulled from its prison,

Let us fan our forge ourselves

Strike the iron while it is hot

 

(Refrain)

The state oppresses and the law cheats.

Tax bleeds the unfortunate.

No duty is imposed on the rich;

The rights of the poor is an empty phrase.

Enough languishing in custody!

Equality wants other laws:

No rights without duties, she says,

Equally, no duties without rights.

 

(Refrain)

Hideous in their apotheosis

The kings of the mine and of the rail.

Have they ever done anything other

Than steal work?

Inside the safeboxes of the gang,

What work had created melted.

By ordering that they give it back,

The people want only their due.

 

(Refrain)

The kings made us drunk with fumes,

Peace among us, war to the tyrants!

Let the armies go on strike,

Stocks in the air, and break ranks.

If they insist, these cannibals

On making heroes of us,

They will know soon that our bullets

Are for our own generals.

 

(Refrain)

Workers, peasants, we are

The great party of labourers.

The earth belongs only to men;

The idle will go to reside elsewhere.

How many of our flesh have they consumed?

But if these ravens, these vultures

Disappear one of these days,

The sun will shine for ever.

(Refrain)

 

On general principle, the song adopted by a political party as its own expresses its philosophy. Hence a Labour member, or for that matter voter, must in all conscience endorse every word of The Internationale, or at least its overall sentiment.

Those who do must be commended for having the power of their convictions. The rest of us should get into the holiday spirit and scream:

“Mayday! Mayday!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was 70 years today that Adolf Hitler killed his beloved dog Blondie, then, as an afterthought, Eva Braun and himself.

Blondie was definitely a victim there, and had the RSPCA had jurisdiction over the bunker, it would have had strong words to say about that act of cruelty towards animals. But what about the other two?

This raises the important issue of victimhood, both in the narrow context of that event and also more broadly.

Eva Hitler, née Braun, was a victim only to a very small extent. She accepted her death as willingly as she had plunged herself into a protracted liaison with a rather objectionable swain. One could justifiably say that she brought her misfortune on to herself.

Similarly, it takes an unlikely feat of verbal gymnastics to regard the Führer himself as his own victim, and so far not even David Irving has displayed the requisite dexterity.

If David Irving has slipped your mind, he is an historian who has earned quite a reputation, and a stint in prison, by insisting that the Holocaust never happened and just managing to desist from expressing the hope that some day it will.

The rest of us know the truth: those millions of Jews were victims of Nazism. Or, to be more ethnographically specific, of Germans, ably assisted by the like-minded populations of most countries the Germans had occupied until they lost the war.

The previous paragraph says something so obvious that I feel ashamed for having written it. My only excuse is that 91 per cent of today’s Germans don’t regard the Allied victory as Germany’s defeat.

Those same Germans who in their millions screamed Sieg Heil!!! and then gleefully did everything they could to make that Sieg a reality, who built and manned concentration camps, operated gas chambers, murdered millions in addition to the Jews, welcomed every cannibalistic policy of the Nazi regime, deified Hitler until things went sour, fought to the last man as the Allies were advancing into Germany – those same Germans weren’t losers.

They were victims of Nazism, and hence the Allies’ victory wasn’t their defeat. It was their liberation, their victory as well. Such is the received wisdom in Germany today.

This has to be the only example in history of victims fighting their deliverers tooth and nail until the very last moment.

Then again, victimhood junkies may claim that all those Volkssturm children and old men were setting Allied tanks alight because they were victims (that dread word again) of brainwashing. They were unaware of the beastly nature of the regime they were defending because they were victims (!) of Nazi propaganda.

THEY DID NOT KNOW!, is the battle cry of today’s revisionism. That is, not to cut too fine a point, a lie. Of course they knew – they couldn’t help knowing.

In his book Hitler’s Willing Executioners, Daniel Goldhagen proves, calculator in hand, that hundreds of thousands of Germans were directly involved in the slaughter (as in executing millions by gas, bullet or neglect, running concentration camps, transporting barely living skeletons there, etc.), with millions more involved in an ancillary capacity – and just about everyone else nodding their approval.

There were some German victims too, people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Friedrich Reck-Malleczewen (whose The Diary of a Man in Despair is a moving and brilliantly written account of the war), men who died in front of firing squads or with piano wire round their necks because they hated Hitler.

But their voices were muffled by the din of Nuremberg rallies and millions of throats roaring Heil!!! all over Germany with the kind of worshipping enthusiasm that couldn’t be faked.

And of course the Germans suffered horrendously as the Russians were moving in from the east and the Allies from the west.

Millions of German women were raped, and while the Russians displayed by far the greatest virility, the Western allies weren’t as blameless as they now like to believe. And yes, 14 million Germans were displaced, many starved to death and tens of thousands committed suicide.

Such facts should be known, and the German historian Florian Huber must be complimented for divulging them in his book Child, Promise Me You Will Shoot Yourself.

But were those Germans typologically closer to Blondie, who was an innocent, unaware victim, or to Eva Braun, who brought her victimhood on to herself? Were they more like the Goebbelses’ six children poisoned by their parents than the parents who did the poisoning, before killing themselves?

Herr Huber laments that “We have to think of ourselves as the bad guys, and it is still a controversial thing to suggest otherwise.”

I’d say this ‘thing’ isn’t so much controversial as historically mendacious and morally corrupt. The Germans were ‘the bad guys’ then, and by denying it they’ll only succeed in reinforcing this retrospective judgement.

In general, the Germans, in addition to their well-documented talents in just about every field of endeavour, seem to have one for succumbing to collective psychosis.

They did so when going rabid under Hitler, then revelling in morbid collective guilt for decades thereafter, and now disclaiming any collective guilt and claiming collective victimhood instead.

A note to Germans: don’t try to massage and pervert history, chaps. Try to come to terms with it and atone for it properly, with none of the Teutonic propensity for Wagnerian drama.

It would also help if you began to think for yourselves, rather than swallowing the party line, along with hook and sinker. Another piece of avuncular advice: the party line is always wrong – whatever the line and whatever the party.