Un Fait Accompli
A harpoon in the flank of free speech.
Recently introduced laws governing racial discrimination, incitement to religious hatred and religious discrimination are sufficiently vague that the potential exists whereby criminal charges may be brought on the flimsiest of evidence, and are entirely open to interpretation on the ground by our latest batch of “P.C.” PCs.
The upshot of this is that, were the average man in the street to find himself in the dock facing such accusations, the onus would be upon the accused to engage costly legal representation in order to argue his case, with no guarantee of a favourable result. This effectively means that recourse to such charges, and a positive outcome in law, remain wholly in the domain of the rich and privileged.
This all-pervading racial witch-hunt exists solely to stifle free speech, and by association, free thought. It is the only language by which legitimate debate can proceed: dare to step outside of it by questioning the established multiculturalist dogma, and the certain result will be instant and sweeping castigation. Thus, at a stroke, the ability to question the government of the day has been massively curtailed, and anyone who dares to do so becomes effectively criminalised. Look no further than the two latest Big Brother “racial” incidents: two women, albeit self-absorbed, talentless cuntwafts, have swiftly become social pariahs for daring to speak their minds in jest.
Welcome to Nu(Lab)Speak. It is the language which informs every debate, where “inclusion” in all its guises rules the day, and whereby dissent is so effectively stifled. The adherents of Political Correctness are legion, and their ranks are swelling daily.
The Health and Safety paradigm.
We have, over time, become accustomed to the edicts of the Health and Safety stazi, and the resultant effect upon the minutiae of our everyday lives. A jolly good wheeze originally introduced by a risk-averse government with the ultimate objective of absolving the concept of ministerial responsibility, it has proliferated and pervaded every aspect of our existence to the point that we no longer question facile, superfluous diktats issued forth in the name of “Elf ‘n Safety, mate.”
Perhaps all the more worrying is the zeal with which big business, and in particular, insurance companies have taken up the mantle of this new religion; no longer is it the local Environmental Health Officer or HSE Inspector who strikes fear in the heart of business, but rather the annual insurance surveyor, who diligently adheres to this latest creed. They are the freshly-converted apparatchiks who insist on ridiculously outlandish initiatives in order to combat non-existent and statistically negligible hazards, thereby propagating this fanciful ideal of a world without risks, and rules for the fuck of it, to their customers, and their customers, to their staff.
We’ve lived under the rule of this zealotry for long enough that it really shouldn’t come as any surprise that the mantra of Health and Safety would, sooner or later, be rolled out to encompass other, less tangible areas of our miserable existence. And so it has. Sunday sees the start of “England goes Smokefree”, or so the screaming tagline penned by some Meedyah harpy, no doubt with tongue firmly and permanently implanted deep within Governments’ collective colon, loudly exhorts. And so, with barely a whimper, the very fabric of English society is radically and irreversibly altered. This is not, and never has been, about a polarisation of opinion between smokers and non-smokers: it is simply the blunt, unnecessary and spiteful removal of the freedom to choose. Overnight, the hordes of smug, malicious adherents to this brave new fanaticism will swell, waiting patiently for their chance to “Self-Police” this divisive law by secretly and anonymously dialling a freephone number.
How long will it be before the next phase begins? How long before our alcohol purchases are strictly monitored, and those approaching the rapidly diminishing safe weekly allowance are turned away from the bar, supermarket or off-licence, and automatically flagged up on some all-embracing database for follow-up alcohol dependency treatment? After that, you can bet your arse that the fat cunts will be next; the zealots will undoubtedly curtail the availability and safe maximum limits of a whole range of foodstuffs and “harmful” ingredients. The “Nanny state” is a misnomer: it implies a benign, caring nation which seeks merely to protect us from harm, when in fact the reality is that a far more sinister agenda is at work.
The Green Movement.
We are poised upon the edge of a precipice over which we are bound to topple to certain oblivion. That’s at least if the government and their compliant, well-funded scientific advisors, slavishly bent on producing complimentary outcomes in order to secure further financial support are to be believed. Global warming is the new realism: to even question its validity, or the science behind it, is akin to heresy.
Legions of converts dutifully embrace this urgent cause, united in their desire to save our ailing planet, despite the fact that the science behind the myth is questionable in the extreme. Many notable and previously well-respected scientists have cast grave doubts upon the validity of this doctrine, and indeed the methodology used to lend credence to the argument is seriously flawed: the computer-modellers at the cutting edge of the global warming “industry” rely upon similar infrastructure to the meteorologists who can’t even get a five day local forecast right with any degree of consistency.
A recurring theme emerges of one-sided debate, in which the language and values are strictly controlled. Dissenters are censured and denied a platform regardless of their scientific credentials, and the movement is allowed to surge forward unhindered by alternative views.
These are the tenets, the very pillars supporting this new ideology. Add in a healthy dose of the sustained threat of extremist terrorism, and we are presented with a fait accompli.
Welcome to Airstrip One in all but name. Tipping-point has been reached.
And we are well and truly cunted.
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