In case you wondered, I’m not at the Tory Party Conference this week. Really, what would be the point? I’m with Richard North on this one: our political class exists in a bubble so remote from reality there is just no point taking their witterings seriously any more.
I’ll give you one example: Theresa May’s tough talk on the Human Rights Act. (Which, presumably, was agreed on after anxious consultation with the Lib Dem Coalition partners: “It’s OK, Vince, Chicken-Man, Nicksy-poo, Theresa doesn’t really mean it. We’ve just decided its time for our Token Woman to play our Token Red Meat Tory for the week. So she can regain her credibility after her crap performance during the riots”).
As May must surely have known – cabinet ministers do get briefings, don’t they? – the chances of Britain pulling out of the Human Rights Act are about as likely as Greece suddenly becoming the world’s new economic power house.
Yes, it’s quite true that EVERYONE in Britain (apart from leftish politicians and human rights lawyers that is) loathes and detests all the crazy rulings from the European Court of Human Rights which give succour to terrorists, rapists and prisoners who feel their rights have been breached if they’re only allowed Sky Sports 1 but not 2 and 3 – but which only leave the rest of us feeling abused, powerless and poor. But what is also unfortunately true is that we are committed to accept them under the terms of the Lisbon Treaty, which Cameron’s rampantly Europhile Foreign Secretary William Hague made quite clear at the weekend he has no intention of breaching. Under Protocol 14 of the European Convention on Human Rights, the EU as a political entity has acceded to all terms of the convention. And as a member state of the EU political union created under the terms of the Lisbon Treaty, the only way we can possibly now withdraw from this convention is by withdrawing from the EU altogether.
But why single out Theresa May for talking rubbish? This week, they’ll all be talking rubbish, except perhaps at the odd fringe meeting where authentic Tory values still miraculously obtain.
It’s in celebration of these values that I’m showing you this recruitment poster for Donal Blaney’s madrassa for post-pubescent righties – the Young Britons Foundation.
I can imagine it making quite a conversation point when they stick it up on their walls at uni. Of course it will goad lefties; but the people it will annoy most of all are the Real Enemy – the Nicholas Boles/Oliver Wetwin ideological suicide wing of the Tory party which seeks an eternal death embrace with the Liberal Democrats. Since that wing of the party has no self-knowledge and no sense of humour, the poster’s wit, revolutionary spirit and unimpeachable soundness will make them curl and writhe like that scene in The Omen where the parents try to take young Damien to his first church service. Of one thing you can be sure: they won’t like it up ’em.