‘I Stopped Going to the Gym Because of Trump. Now I Can’t Open Jars’.
This is an actual headline to an actual story written by an actual journalist in the Guardian newspaper.
It was November 2016 and the only person I knew who believed Trump would win the US election was the owner of my gym. This was clearly a ridiculous prediction so, seeing the chance for some easy money, I offered to bet him $100 that Hillary would win.
But the gym owner, clearly not wanting to do his dough, pointed at this horrible thing in the corner with the name “sled” and said: “If Trump wins you have to pull 70kg on it.”
It was double what I could usually pull. And, if I won the bet, the gym owner would pull double his personal best.
I didn’t want Trump to win – he’d grabbed women by the pussy and mocked a reporter’s disability. He’d promised to build a wall and called Mexicans “rapists”. The thought of his presidency was frightening but so was pulling the sled. What if I herniated a disc?
Etc. You can guess the rest. Sometimes, you almost wonder whether the Guardian isn’t secretly a sinister right-wing plot to make left-wing people look utterly ridiculous.
Plus: what the hilarious documentary about the New York Times really shows is progressives in crisis.
Even though I don’t watch much football I love the World Cup because it’s my passport to total freedom. I can nip off to the pub, slob indoors on a sunny Sunday afternoon, leave supper before we’ve finished eating, let alone before the dishes are done. And where normally that kind of behaviour would at the very least get me a dirty look, during World Cup season it actually gets me brownie points.
Why? Because it’s a sign that I’m being a Good Dad. It worked in the old days with the Rat. And now it works with Boy. Mothers are absolutely potty for their sons and will look fondly on any activity that makes them content. So whenever I slink off to the TV, wearing an expression that says, ‘You know I’d really much rather be strimming the nettles/scouring the roasting tray/clearing up cat poo but the boy wants me to watch with him’, I don’t merely get away with it. I’m viewed almost as a saint.
It is late June, but the winter has not abandoned the Gulf of Ob. The shallow bay, which houses two of Russia’s biggest Arctic out-shipment terminals for oil and gas, remains packed with fast ice.
It has created a complicated situation, Rosatomflot says. The state company which manages the Russian nuclear-powered icebreakers, confirms that independent shipping in the area is «paralysed» and that LNG carriers and tankers are stuck.
Green campaigners are fighting to block a £400 million plan to build a solar energy farm the size of 600 football pitches on marshland that provides a habitat for rare birds such as the marsh harrier.
The proposed 890-acre farm, five times as big as Britain’s largest existing one in Wiltshire, lies outside Graveney, near Faversham in Kent, along the edge of the Swale estuary, an officially designated Biodiversity Operational Area.
This is home to rare nesting birds and surrounded by protected zones for wildlife.
Because it is also a flood plain, the project’s 989,000 solar panels will be mounted on frames 12ft tall – the height of a double-decker bus.
Unlike most solar farms, Cleve Hill Solar Park’s panels will not all face south, but east and west in a continuous zig-zag.
The effect, say the scheme’s opponents, will be to turn green meadows into something resembling a colossal factory roof.
Economically and environmentally the scheme makes no sense whatsoever. Apart from ruining a huge swathe of countryside and killing or displacing all the local wildlife, it will do little for Britain’s energy needs.
Sinister foreign powers have been caught meddling in the elections of a Western sovereign nation, using nefarious threats to undermine the democratic will of the people. And the corruption goes right to the very top.
So why aren’t the Guardian and the New York Times over all this scandalous abuse of power?
Maybe because the culprit, on this occasion, is not Vladimir Putin but one Barack Obama.
This morning, on BBC Radio 4, former White House staffer Ben Rhodes confirmed what had long been suspected: that in 2016 Remainer Prime Minister David Cameron had persuaded his friend Obama to participate in his Project Fear propaganda campaign designed to scare the British people out of voting for Brexit.
The giveaway was when Obama warned that Britain would be “back of the queue” in any post-Brexit trade details. As an American, he would have said “line” not “queue” – so the phrase had clearly been fed to him by an Englishman, probably one called Dave.
Green recycling policy is killing the oceans with plastic pollution, says a shock report by a Finnish public health expert.
The report, written for the Global Warming Policy Foundation by Mikko Paunio, adjunct professor in general epidemiology at the University of Helsinki, is titled Save the Oceans – Stop Recycling Plastic.
The title may sound odd to ordinary people, but the sad fact is that the global “recycling” industry has significantly added to the marine plastic litter problem.
I have put recycling in quotes, because only a small fraction of plastic recovered from consumers is actually recycled: the material collected is dirty and so mixed up that it is impossible to produce the high-quality raw material required by, for example, the food-packaging industry. Most recovered plastic is simply burned or dumped: on land, in rivers, or even directly in the oceans.
Unable to recycle waste in line with the targets imposed on them, rich countries have chosen to dump it — plastic, paper and cardboard — on poor ones, especially China. Lower environmental standards in much of Asia has made it cheaper to manage waste there and low-quality recycled plastic can sometimes be profitably produced from these waste streams, albeit in highly polluted conditions.
In recent years, the stream of waste delivered to China expanded vastly. Annual imports reached 85 million tons, including 8 million of plastic. The quantity was so huge that inspection at ports became impossible, and the unscrupulous found that even mixed or hazardous waste could profitably be sent, disguised as “recycling” to avoid landfill tax or high management costs in rich countries. Unable to handle this tsunami of refuse, the Chinese were forced to either burn or dump vast quantities. An unknown amount found its way to the oceans.
The consequences for the environment and for public health of this “recycling” madness have therefore been horrendous, and have ultimately proved too high for the Chinese, who have now banned waste imports entirely. Recent figures suggest that recycling businesses in the UK have responded by simply shipping waste to Asian countries with even weaker environmental standards. So even more waste will end up in the oceans in future.
In recent months, plastic pollution has become the favoured cause of environmentalists, as it finally dawns that the public is heartily sick of being lectured about ‘climate change.’
There’s a Tracey Ullman comedy sketch about the extreme and ugly form of political correctness afflicting the youth. It’s set in a self-help group for ‘people who are so woke [i.e. attuned to left-wing grievance politics] they are finding it impossible to have any fun at all.’
A newcomer to the class tells his story: ‘It started with the little things — signing an online petition; going to a march. Well, before I knew it, I was writing to the Guardian about LBGT representation in the Harry Potter books…’ At this point, a prissy young woman interjects: ‘Which is shocking by the way.’ The therapist (played by Ullman) calls her to order: ‘Yes, all right, Libby. We’ve all read your blog.’
Last week, at Cambridge University, I had an encounter with a real-life Libby and the experience wasn’t funny one bit.
Truly it’s horrible and unnerving to fall victim to a point and shriek assault by an hysterical, vengeful, feminist Social Justice Warrior.
It happened to me the other day at Cambridge University. For more details, see here, but I’ll give you the short version:
I’d given an after dinner speech at the university’s Conservative Association (CUCA). Safe territory, I had thought, to rail against the lunacies of political correctness before a sympathetic audience.
As an example, I mentioned the compulsory consent classes you now have to attend as a first-year undergraduate (generally presided over by embarrassed second-years) in which you are lectured on how rape is a bad thing. Then later I made a flippant reference to Jimmy Savile and Rolf Harris. [Non-British readers should know that these were successful children’s TV celebrities of the 70s and 80s, later revealed to be predatory sex offenders.]
To say it went down like a cup of cold sick would be an understatement. Several of the alleged “conservatives” at the dinner walked out in protest. (Though I do wonder whether some of them might have been plants or entryists who’d gone specifically to be offended so that they could make a political point afterwards.) One visibly distraught girl – escorted by her hissing mate – called out: “Disgusting!” as she left.