Curse of Enoch Powell destroys David Cameron

enoch powellEnoch Powell’s ghost has killed David Cameron’s career and how symmetrical the tragedy is.

Powell, who once wished damnation on Chamberlain for appeasing Hitler, has reached from beyond the grave to ruin an even worse failure as Prime Minister. Powell, the voice of British xenophobia for so many years, perhaps didn’t realise what a seed he had planted or what a thorny briar it would grow into. Despite his personal hubris, the man who expected from his teens to become Viceroy of India might well have failed to understand the motivations of hoi polloi. Perhaps in his magnificent mind, the classics professor thought that his utterances were all Greek to the lower orders, but if so, how wrong Enoch Powell was.

[dropshadowbox align=”none” effect=”lifted-both” width=”auto” height=”” background_color=”#ffffff” border_width=”1″ border_color=”#dddddd” ]All political lives, unless they are cut off in midstream at a happy juncture, end in failure, because that is the nature of politics and of human affairs.[/dropshadowbox]

Thus spoke Powell. But even he could hardly have suspected that a Prime Minister would behave as crassly as Cameron. Powell the intellectual could hardly have supposed that any PM would be so stupid as to gamble on the stupidity of the Great British Unwashed, especially an unwashed that had for years festered in the propaganda of those who sought to profit from hatred, from xenophobia and from ignorance.

Enoch Powell might well appreciate the symmetry of David Cameron’s capitulation, a political life ending in failure but also cut off in midstream, though hardly at a happy juncture.

If he took a moment to ponder, Powell might well conclude that he himself had sown the seeds of the anti-immigrant hatred that led to a narrow Brexit margin, though he might not be so happy to reflect that he was the only major figure in modern history who evoked rivers of blood, apart from Saddam Hussein.

It was in the seed-bed prepared by Powell that the shoots of anti-immigrant ignorance took root and eventually undermined David Cameron’s foundations, but at the same time, his demise was predictable once he dabbled with things he didn’t understand. The toffs of the Bullingdon Club — David Cameron and Boris Johnson — might as well be looking into a bush as trying to understand the lower orders in their class-ridden society and their joint gamble failed, though with different outcomes.

Powell understood the proletariat well enough, as a man who rose through the ranks from Private to Brigadier in five short years, thanks to his prodigious intellect. He knew that the British Tommy was deliberately bred to be a savage fighting unit by his aristocratic betters. He grasped the fact that the Empire desired to cull these fighting units in a hail of lead war upon war for fear their vote might make a difference in the homeland.

Powell was untroubled by such ugly notions, and it’s reasonable to assume that neither Cameron nor Johnson lost much sleep about it either, just as Thatcher didn’t when sending an expeditionary force to the South Atlantic in defence of New Zealand’s mineral rights over a rocky outpost governed by a man with a feathered helmet and a ceremonial sword.

But the difference is that Cameron and Johnson took a chance and gambled on the Great British Unwashed not bothering to turn out for the vote. What’s doubly ironic is that Cameron and Johnson hoped for the same thing — a Brexit defeat — and now Cameron is gone while Johnson simply ran away. But here comes Theresa May to replace Cameron and suddenly Johnson is appointed Foreign Secretary.

I don’t know if there’s an old Chinese curse to cover these situations, but if not, there should be.

May you get what you wished for.

Enoch would surely be chuckling in ancient Greek.



Boris Johnson backs Brexit

You don’t have to Google Boris Johnson today. Just search for Boris and the results will pop up like Whack-A-Moles at a funfair.

Boris Johnson says UK is better off outside …

Boris Johnson to campaign for Brexit in EU referendum …

Boris Johnson backs EU exit: London mayor confirms …

And so on and so forth. You only need to Google his first name because Boris has something Call-Me-Dave never did: charisma. Boris is not only clever and erudite, but also witty, engaging, often self-deprecating and very, very funny. He’s the sort of chap you’d want to be with on a night out, no matter what your political complexion, because he is hilarious, and that’s a very dangerous thing in a politician if he happens to be on the opposite side from you.

He might be wrong, but he’ll make them laugh and as everyone knows, successful seduction is 99% laughter.

Oddly, not only are Boris and Call-Me-Dave both posh public schoolboys, but also contemporaries and members of Oxford’s ludicrous Bullingdon Club. And yet, looking at this picture from 1987, you notice two things about them. While Call-Me-Dave isn’t reacting well to his rejection letter from Wham! Boris is already mentally perfecting his Roy Batty for Blade Runner 2.  Dave might have seen a pig’s head from an angle not normally associated with shoulder of pork, but Boris has seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.

david cameron boris johnson bullingdon club

Call-Me-Dave must be wishing today that he’d given Boris the cold shoulder all those years ago as his friend stepped forward, following a wrenching struggle with his own heartache and put the good of the country before his own personal ambition. Boris, in his inimitable, hand-on-breast bumbling way explained to the assembled journos that of course he never wanted to go against Dave, that Dave had done such a wonderful job in the short time available to him, but that really, Dave’s negotiations with the EU didn’t amount to a bottle of smoke.

Boris is an honourable man, though naturally he glided gently over the fact that British objections to membership of the EU amounted to nothing more than a bottle of smoke in the first place, so it was hardly a surprise that Call-Me-Dave returned with a receptacle containing some products of combustion and little else.

However, Boris is an honourable man and never mind the fact that if he defeats Call-Me-Dave in this, he’ll be well positioned to go for the leadership of the Tory party and therefore well-positioned to become Prime Minister.

Perish the thought, for Boris is an honourable man. It never for a single second crossed Boris’s mind and shame on me for even hinting at it, however obliquely. Just like Jim Hacker before him, all Boris wants to do is serve the common people, the fervent wish of all ex-Etonians since time began.

Is there any substance to the Outers’ case, apart from some Little England xenophobia? On the face of it, the answer has to be No. Challenged recently to produce figures on the relative costs of immigrants, the UK government had to concede that they had no statistics, which seemed rather odd, considering that their Prime Minister was in Brussels ostensibly negotiating on that very issue. Interestingly, though, there was no mention of the two million British living in other EU countries and no thought given to the consequences for them in the event of a British exit. And that would include the million British emigrants in Spain, as well as the 330 thousand each in France and Ireland. As to the nett cost to the UK of membership, the outlay up front is one pound in every 200 expended by the exchequer, in return for unlimited access to the biggest trading bloc in the world.


Child benefit annoyed everyone when it came in. We all agreed that it made no sense to be paying full benefit to children living in low-wage economies, and on that issue, David Cameron was pushing an unlocked gate, but at the same time he came back with pretty much everything he wanted, even if his demands were always going to be insubstantial, since the opposition to membership has nothing going for it apart from suspicion of foreigners.

Call-Me-Dave has backed himself into a corner on Brexit simply by pandering to the UKIP tendency in the first place. He isn’t a fool and he must have realised that when he lay down with these dogs, he’d get up with their fleas. What’s more, he probably didn’t need them to get elected but now here he is, having returned from Brussels with a deal that everyone agrees has no substance and he doesn’t know what to do. Supporters of EU membership always thought it had no substance because the original objections were vague, nebulous and based on xenophobia, while opponents think he didn’t come back with enough.

Dave can’t win. Call-Me-Dave has been found out in the public forum and now here comes Boris the scholar of ancient Greek and Latin, pulling a knife from beneath his toga and plunging it into the breast of his fellow Bullingdonian.

But Boris is an honourable man.



Boris Johnson says UK is better off outside the EU

Boris Johnson to campaign for Brexit in EU referendum

Boris backs Brexit: London mayor defies Cameron warning over EU vote

Everything about you is phoney





Why we misunderstand David Cameron and the unfortunate incident of the pig’s head

David Cameron must be bristling with irritation following recent reports of his juvenile porcine encounter.

After all, he was just a young lad in university and it could have been worse. He could have been drinking and taking drugs instead of just porking a pig’s head held in the lap of a fellow club member, which is really quite a normal thing for young lads to do in college, when they’re not dressing in Little Lord Fauntleroy outfits and smashing up restaurants, as he and his fellow members of the Bullingdon Club used to do.

Thankfully, the club involving the embarrassing fellatio incident wasn’t called the Piggington Club, but the Piers Gaveston Society, named after an interesting fellow.  Gaveston was the first Earl of Cornwall and lover of Edward II King of England. His access to the king annoyed the Norman nobility so much that he was exiled as an outlaw and when he returned to England in 1312, they hunted him down and killed him like a dog, not so much because of his relationship with Edward, it seems, but because he was one annoying little toerag. Think Joffrey.

But of course, they were all French, so the matter was handled with much shrugging.

Why Cameron’s pig-shagging society is named after Gaveston is a matter for conjecture, but it follows a form typical enough of the privileged British classes, and it isn’t entirely despicable. It was from groups like this that the madness of Monty Python emerged. Both Hugh Grant and Ian Hislop were members and truthfully, while it might be embarrassing for Cameron today, it is a genuinely absurd undergraduate excess. The world needs as much absurdity as it can get its hands on.

How interesting though, that Cameron’s fellow Gaveston Society member, Boris Johnson, should also have been a member of the thoroughly obnoxious Bullingdon Club along with young Dave.

bullingdon club david cameron boris johnson

London’s mayor, Boris, is a funny guy, witty and erudite, a fine TV performer with a well-developed sense of his own absurdity and a fine tang of sulfur. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had such fluent speakers in public office? In many ways, he reminds me of Peter Ustinov with his lugubrious delivery and mordant sense of humour,  but he’s also a potential rival to Dave for leadership of the Tory Party. And both of these men, along with Chancellor George Osborne, were members of the quintessential upper-class Oxford clique, the Bulllingdon Club, an excuse for wealthy boys to dress up in ridiculous outfits, destroy  restaurants, buy their way out of police charges and treat the lower classes like dirt.

Is it any wonder that most Oxford establishments will no longer take bookings from these people?

Never mind the pig-knobbing society. Bullingdon and its like is the means by which the British ruling class maintains the links that make it so strong and so pervasive. When you share membership of a disgraceful drinking club with the British Prime Minister and its Chancellor, with the mayor of London, the Polish foreign minister, the Duke of Wellington, Charles Spencer, uncle to the future monarch and journalist David Dimbleby, you know you only need to pick up the phone if you find yourself in need because you are bound together in a pact of shame.

The pig is politically irrelevant. Survivors of English public schools aren’t embarrassed by that sort of thing, so while we might chuckle and snort, dream up hilarious hashtags like Parmageddon and Snoutrage, this will all pass over.

Cameron might have made a fool of himself but he didn’t hurt anyone by sexually assaulting a pig’s head. On the other hand, if Boris Johnson or the Polish foreign minister had real dirt on him, they’re not talking, and that isn’t because Cameron has just as much dirt on them, convenient though that assumption might appear.  It’s because they are all bred to a common belief in their mutual survival, via the public school system, via Oxbridge and via the common bond created by old money.

As we say in Irish, Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile.

And if we think things are any different in our supposedly classless society, we really are fooling ourselves.



Cardinal Keith O’Brien Compares Gay Marriage to Slavery

Did you ever hear of cardinal Keith O’Brien, a Scottish cardinal and Archbishop of Edinburgh?  No.  Neither did I until the silly old bugger started ranting against legalising gay marriage in Britain.

Keith’s a lad from Ballycastle in Antrim who moved to Scotland when he was a kid, and eventually ended up as a Catholic Archbishop.  Keith has been an Archbishop for years and years and years and years and years, which means that for for years and years and years and years and years people have been kissing his arse.  This is not a healthy thing for a celibate man with no experience of relationships, marriage, family responsibility or sexuality.

It just cannot be good to have people kissing your arse when deep inside you happen to be repressed, sexually-dysfunctional and enraged with a world that stopped you getting laid, even the once, but I suppose it’s one step better than people slapping his arse.  Imagine what he’d be saying then.

Is it any wonder then that Keith, Cardinal O’Brien, would be fulminating against gay marriage?  After all, this guy comes from a tradition that saw pregnant young women locked up in convents as slaves but could find nothing wrong with raping little boys.  He comes from a tradition, to put it bluntly, of utter nutcases and because he bears the title Cardinal, Keith has swallowed his own propaganda, but what would you expect from someone whose boss is infallible?

Keith, I’m sorry to report, is also either deeply stupid or deeply dishonest, if this quote is to be believed:

Imagine for a moment that the Government had decided to legalise slavery but assured us that “no one will be forced to keep a slave.

The comparison is so dishonest, I found myself temporarily stuck for words.  It reminded me of the patronising nonsense Irish bishops used to tell our people until we realised what a bunch of bullshitters they were, but then it occurred to me that Keith might perhaps have been voicing a private subliminal anxiety.  Maybe Keith is speculating that the relationship between two equal consenting adults is equivalent to that between a master and a slave.   Not that he’d know, having never taken part in a mature, adult relationship.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him lobbying the British government, just as successive bishops in this country applied political pressure against contraception, divorce and even the rights of gay people to exist.

David Cameron seems to be determined to change the law in Britain so that gay marriage would become legal, going one step further than out civil partnership laws, and I think he deserves respect for that  if people are allowed to conduct their lives in way that ffords them peace and dignity, but Keith somehow feels that such a move would conflict with his own rights.

If anything conflicted with his rights, it would be a law forbidding old men from remaining celibate all their lives while at the same time pronouncing on the rights of people who wish to live together in a stable relationship.

If he had been entirely honest, instead of dragging irrelevant slavery references into the debate, he would simply have said Imagine for a moment that the Government had decided to legalise marriage for everyone but assured us that “no one will be forced to marry.

That would have been a proper comparison instead of the slippery, dishonest word-play that Keith O’Brien decided to engage in.

The old bishops make much of the heterosexual nature of marriage — in particular the possibility that it should be open to reproduction (a subject close to the hearts of all clerics, whether Catholic, Jewish or Muslim, for some reason).  But of course, if marriage had to be open to reproduction, then in order to be consistent, the bishops would have to oppose marriage between people who, for one reason or another, are unable to have children.  They might be too old, or they might have some physical condition preventing conception.  Or they might simply not want any kids.

These bishops have too much time on their hands worrying about gay marriage and the like when they might more usefully apply themselves to the problems of their own church, of clerics buggering little boys and bishops covering it up.  But I suppose it’s all a bottle of smoke anyway, since the RC hierarchy have discredited themselves so much that nobody gives a rat’s arse what they think.



Conservative Government for Britain

It seems the Tories are going to defeat Labour, but it isn’t exactly  a resounding victory for Cameron, is it?  In a time of economic slump, with a historically unpopular and uncharismatic prime minister, Cameron will still be depending on the support of minority parties to form a government.  Meanwhile, Labour hold on to about 250 seats, which isn’t bad for a government party in a time of great public anger.  It puts them in a good position to regroup and launch an assault on the Tories at the opportune time.

Gordon Brown will blunder off into the outer darkness, leaving the way clear for bright young sparks like David Miliband to restructure the party leadership. Once New New Labour has been defined, and the Tories have done the economic dirty work, the revitalised Labour Party will try to fight their way back into power, and it wouldn’t surprise me if we saw another British general election before the end of the year.

In most countries, Labour would now be looking to the Lib-Dems to see if they could form a coalition government, but the UK has always been averse to such notions.

They look set to be run by a Conservative Party that depends for support on a combination of Lib-Dems and unionists.

Sweet and Sour.


British General Election

Since they’re having a general election in Britain, I thought it might be a good idea to summarise the main points for Irish readers unfamiliar with the nuances of British politics.

All three main parties agree on one thing.  They’re not going to mention the savage cuts coming in the next budget after the election, or the fact that these cuts will have to be made by whatever party is in government.

Nobody has any policies, though at one time, it was only the Liberal Democrats who took this approach, and it worked very well for them.   By having no policies whatsoever, they secured a safe future for kaftan weavers, holistic healers and sustainable greenfly-repellent producers.  Lib-Dems, as they’re called, are very, very sincere and well-meaning people, who believe in general niceness and all-round good-eggery.  Most of them are the children of famous novelists and all Liberal Democrats live in the London borough of Camden where they sell high-quality second-hand clothes from eco-boutiques.

Their current leader, Nick Clegg, speaks 138 languages and has nineteen grandmothers, all of whom are White Russian countesses.  He’s eleven feet tall and has been voted the World’s Most Impossibly Handsome Politician.  Clegg believes passionately in a fair and just society, guided by principles of general niceness and fair play, with sustainable dinner parties and organic charades.  He has great respect for idiots.

Former prominent  Lib-Dem leaders include

The Tories have had many policies over the years, all of which involve shooting foreigners.  Tory leaders are raging alcoholics, and all have attended expensive boarding schools where they were repeatedly buggered throughout their formative years. All Tories live in homes which either have the word Hall in their names or else Acacia Avenue.   Tories are also known as Conservatives and the full name of their party is the Conservative and Unionist Party of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, but it is considered bad form to mention the lunatic fringe hicks on whose support they depend.  The main Conservative policies today include keeping out Johnny Foreigner, keeping the yobs in their place and invading places with oil.   They are somewhat to the left of the two main Irish parties.

Their current leader, David Cameron, is a descendant of an ancient Scottish clan, whose main policies involve riding a bicycle while drunk.   He believes that only old Etonians are fit to run Britain, and that Asians are really rather decent chaps when you get to know them.  He was formed in 2003 when a  laboratory transporter experiment accidentally beamed Tony Blair’s mind into a passing Rolls-Royce.

Former prominent Tory leaders include a man who conducted an orchestra, a circus tightrope walker, a demented alcoholic warmonger and Margaret Thatcher, who believed money-supply controlled rainfall.

The Labour Party used to represent the labouring classes until workers and Argentineans were finally eradicated by Margaret Thatcher in the early eighties.  In 1994, Labour’s new leader, Tony Blair, realised that nobody in Britain was working, and therefore rebranded the party as New Labour, which is another name for Conservative.  The main New Labour policies today are identical to the policies of the Tory party, but with added kaftan-weaving and aduki beans.

Their current leader, Gordon Brown, is the miserable son of a Scottish clergyman.   He served as Chancellor in Tony Blair’s conservative government, and has no policies of his own, but believes that all old women are demented bigots.  He has a PhD in history, but no discernible personality.  Gordon Brown is thoroughly sick of the whole thing and will probably step down as Labour leader after the election.

The British electoral system is a straight first-past-the-post race.

This means that most people are never represented by an MP who shares their political views.

In 2010, however, due to brown-rice shortages and a fall in the world demand for kaftans, the Lib-Dem supporters have become more militant, with the result that Nick Clegg is being listened to.  This is the first time in history that anyone has ever listened to the Lib-Dems and it could bring about the unthinkable: a British coalition government.

But the big question is this: who will Nick play footsie with?

If he decides to throw in his lot with the Tories, the new government will look pretty much like this one, with about equal amounts of kaftan-weaving and brown rice.  But if the Lib-Dems and Labour get it on, we could see a huge spike in alternative therapies, reiki, homeopathy and general, all-round, right-on niceness.

So, when did you first start feeling this way?



Michael Martin Resigns

It’s not my place to comment on the politics of our neighbouring country, except to say this: I admire them.  I admire the British politicians.

I admire the fact that they’re prepared to resign, in contrast to the gobshites who populate our body politic.

I admire the fact that, for the most part, they don’t expect to hand down their seats to their sons and daughters.

I admire the fact that their politicians can actually speak instead of mumbling prepared platitudes from a a crib-sheet.

What I don’t admire is their horrible class distinction.

I don’t admire the fact that they looked down on Michael Martin because of his accent, or his social origins, or his religion.

I don’t admire their insufferable self-righteousness, but I do admire their integrity, which is greater than ours.

On the other hand, unlike Douglas Hogg, I can’t imagine an Irish politician claiming expenses for cleaning his moat, but that’s because we’re not posh enough to have moats.

If  Irish politicians actually lived in castles, I can assure you they’d be far worse than any of their British counterparts.

I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but it’s true: we need to become a lot more like the British.

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