Jeremy is slandered, again

As a fellow socialist, nay Marxist, nay Trotskyist, I deplore the vituperative attacks on my friend Jeremy in every conceivable medium.

Accusing Jeremy of anti-Semitism is like accusing his girlfriend Diane Abbott of being fat… or is it a wrong simile?

Must be, for she’s indeed fat, while Jeremy doesn’t have an anti-Semitic bone in his body. My writing is getting sloppy in my dotage.

Anyway, you know what I mean. Not an anti-Semitic bone in his body – that’s exactly what Jeremy said in reply to my question when I rang him last night.

“Listen, Comrade, those hyenas of journalism, those hirelings of world capital and specifically of the City and Wall Street don’t even understand the words they use,” complained Jeremy.

“First they run all those ridiculous, if true, stories about my support for the Palestinians’ just cause.

“Then they publish photographs of my kissing and hugging dozens of freedom fighters from the PLO, Hamas or what have you – and then they have the stupidity and gall to say I’m an anti-Semite.

“I looked it up: Arabs are Semites. Right, Comrade? I love Arabs, so how does that make me an anti-Semite? I’m a philo-Semite if anything.”

“Well, that’s not quite what those hangers-on, renegades and lackeys mean,” I interjected gently. “They mean you hate Jews.”

“Hate Jews?” Jeremy sounded genuinely surprised. “Nothing can be further from the truth. Why, some of my best friends are ki… I mean Christ-killers.”

“Of course, Jeremy, of course. I know that, you know that, but those pawns in the hands of world capital don’t know it.

“They keep banging on about Tunis,” I explained, “that wreath you laid in 2014 at the tomb of those terrorists who tortured and slaughtered 11 Israeli athletes in Munich…”

“Terrorists? Et tu, Boot? Freedom bloody fighters, not terrorists, Comrade. And anyway, I just dropped a wreath at that tomb on my way to another tomb, of those PLO hero-martyrs killed by Israeli imperialist colonialists in an air strike.”

“Yes, Jeremy, but those media stooges to the Jewish conspiracy will say that the PLO was terrorist too…”

“Are you kidding me, Comrade? That’s like describing as terrorists those fighters for the liberation of Ireland from British imperialism and colonialism.”

“Yes, Jeremy, but the Jews…”

“Don’t talk to me about the Yids, Comrade,” objected Jeremy rather forcefully. “I love them and all, but sometimes they get too uppity for words. First, they genocide millions of Palestinians…”

“Are you sure about that number, Jeremy?” Sometimes my pedantic side is hard to contain.

“Millions, Comrade! They’re worse than the Nazis! And then they moan about those 11 athletes. In the general scheme of things, what’s 11 athletes more or less?

“Those Israeli Jewboys whinge they’ve been at war non-stop for 70 years, and then they bitch about 11 casualties. They’re just sore losers, if you ask me. When you chop wood, chips will fly, as Trotsky said.”

“Do me a favour, Jeremy,” I pleaded. “Quote someone else from now on, until after the next general election at least. Those jackals of Fleet Street will eat you alive…”

“Jews’ flunkeys, every one of them,” interrupted Jeremy. “Not that I have anything against Jews.”

“Of course not,” I agreed hastily. “But listen, Jeremy, I’ll be in London around the second week in September. Perhaps we could grab a beer and talk about your PR?”

“Can’t do that week, Comrade. I’ll be in Saudi then, laying a wreath at the memorial to those 19 heroes of 9/11. Maybe later in the month.”

“Fine, Jeremy, later in the month it is,” I said. “But until then, take it easy, will you, for Marx’s sake? Keep shtum about the Jews, Hamas, the Holocaust…”

“The what?”

“Well, you know, the Holocaust. It did happen, didn’t it?”

“No, it didn’t,” said my friend Jeremy firmly. “But it will.”