Why Is Cameron Getting into Bed with This Dumb Blond?

Every now and then another moronically stupid political idea comes along which lots of people conspire temporarily to believe in because it sounds groovy and different. Some people call these trendy new theories paradigm shifts. I prefer to call them by the more accurate appellation of  total and utter b***ocks.

In the Blair era we had “The Third Way”; in the Cameron era we can apparently look forward to something called Red Toryism.

Red Toryism, my bull***t detectors tell me is pretty much what you’d get if you took Compassionate Conservatism and handed it over for a two-hour blue-sky-thinking, outside-the-box rebranding session at top London ad agency Wanka Gakhead Toss.

God I wish I’d thought of it, though. Not because it’s in any way useful or clever but because had I done so I would now be running a £700,000 think tank like the man who did invent it Phillip Blond. Not only that but I would be the subject of flattering Sunday Times interviews and have the ear of our soon-to-be-prime-minister Dave Cameron and his policy strategist Oliver Wetwin, both of whom apparently believe that the theories underpinning Red Toryism provide the perfect intellectual heft for their plan to heal Broken Britain (TM).

But what are the theories underpinning Red Toryism? That’s the ingenious thing about it. No one really knows. Least of all, I suspect, its creator – former theology lecturer, student of Continental Philosophy and relative of well-hard James Bond actor Daniel Craig – Phillip Blond.

Not unlike “the Third Way”, Red Toryism poses as a kind of political philosopher’s stone – the magic formula which will allow a functioning market economy and social justice to thrive simultaneously.

Actually, as Jamie Whyte points out in the latest issue of Standpoint, it’s nothing but Blairite snake-oil-salesmanship.

[Blond] believes the state should protect local grocers from competition with non-local firms by denying Tesco and its ilk permission to trade. The same goes for capital, which will be have to be raised locally (after it has been redistributed, presumably). Consumers must be obliged to use their local supplier. To prevent monopoly, we must impose it.

This economic Balkanisation, not promoted by most protectionists at the national level, but between — let us say — Exeter and Bristol, is the central policy proposal of Red Toryism. It is the means by which Britain will supposedly be transformed from a “market state” to a “civic state”.

In fact, it is a means by which Britain would be transformed from a rich country to a poor one, as anyone who understands the connection between the scope of trade, the division of labour and wealth creation could tell Blond. Alas, it seems that Blond is doing all the talking and others, including senior Conservatives, are doing the listening. And that is a shame.

Related posts:

  1. Why the Tories are doing so well in the polls, pt 1: Phillip Blond
  2. Climategate: why David Cameron is going to be disastrous for Britain
  3. So much for Cameron’s Cuties…
  4. David Cameron, renewable energy and the death of British property rights.

 

Not Even God Believes in Anthropogenic Global Warming Any More, Archbishop

Do you drive a car? Fly abroad occasionally? Hope your salary will get bigger? Want your kids to be more comfortably off than you are?

Oh dear. Then it’s Outer Darkness for you, my friend.

Or so reckons the Archbishop of Canterbury. Apparently, according to a speech he gave in Southwark Cathedral the other day in a talk sponsored by the Christian environmentalist group Operation Noah, you are living “inhumanly.” (Hat Tip: Philip Foster)

Here’s how the celebrity Muppet-/Druid-/The-Master- impersonator (and sometime spiritual head of the Church of England) put it in his sermon.

In his splendid book, Hell and High Water: Climate Change, Hope and the Human Condition, Alastair McIntosh speaks of our current ‘ecocidal’ patterns of consumption as addictive and self-destructive. Living like this is living at a less than properly human level – McIntosh suggests we may need therapy, what he describes as a ‘cultural psychotherapy’ to liberate us. That liberation may or may not be enough to avert disaster. But what we do know – or should know – is that we are living inhumanly.

Yes, I suppose in a very real sense, this is just the sort of achingly worthy, anti-materialistic line you would expect a preachy churchman to take. But why, in God’s name, does it have to be yoked to the scientifically-dubious, Al-Gore-sponsored narrative about Anthropogenic Global Warming (AGW)?

One of the reasons the celebrity Muppet-impersonator still has his attractive day job – with way-cool perks including his very own Palace and the ability to really wind up Tony Blair in Iraq war memorial services – is that it is quite impossible, even in an age of science and rationalism, for anyone to disprove the existence of God. Not so AGW. Every day, more and more scientific evidence emerges to suggest that mankind’s contribution to the ongoing, natural process of climate change is negligible and that AGW is the biggest money-making scam since the South Sea Bubble.

Is the Archbishop of Canterbury really sure he should still be nailing his colours to the mast of this rapidly sinking ship?

Related posts:

  1. Climategate: the final nail in the coffin of ‘Anthropogenic Global Warming’?
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  3. The real cost of ‘global warming’
  4. Rowan Williams may or may not be the Antichrist

 

I Watched, Helpless, as a Vicious Staffie Ripped up My Children’s Guinea Pigs

I’m sorry to have to break the news so brutally but there’s no other way: Pickles Deathclaw and Lily Scampers are no more. They are ex-guinea pigs. They have ceased to exist. And all because of one of those bastard, evil dogs you see everywhere these days attached to the arms — or, more worryingly, not attached to the arms — of the nation’s hooded underclass yoof. We were sitting in the kitchen having lunch when it happened. ‘What’s that noise?’ I said. Already I was on my feet and heading for the garden, fearing the very worst because I had been here two months before.

On that previous occasion it had been our beloved old cat Beetle who’d gone for a Burton — hunted down and deliberately killed by a member of a vicious South London gang whose specialities, besides stabbing and drug-dealing, include cat assassination. Hearing a yapping commotion in our garden (which is surrounded by a 10ft trellis), I’d arrived just in time to see Beetle being tossed in the air and having his neck broken by the muscular, tan-coloured cur. The dog, I learned later from the police, had been put deliberately over our wall. Beetle was at least the third neighbourhood cat to have been got in this way.

So when I entered the garden I pretty much knew what to expect. Yes. Sure enough: carnage. Pickles Deathclaw was already dead at that point; Lily was about to be got (their outdoor run had been overturned) and I just wasn’t feeling quite suicidal enough (that would come later) to place myself between her and the jaws of her ravening Staffordshire-terrier-style assassin. Instead, I stood, helpless, just as I had when Beetle died, going ‘Noo! You bastard! Nooo!’

By now a face had appeared at our garden wall. ‘Here, boy. Here!’ called the youth: black, teenaged, hooded, as all the devil-dog-owners are round our part of Sarf London. And I yelled at him: ‘What the f*** is your f***ing dog doing in my f***ing garden killing my kids’ f***ing guinea pigs?’ To be fair he looked almost as upset as I was. ‘It’s not me, man. It’s my dog,’ he said. ‘He won’t come. How do I make him come?’

After that it’s a bit of a blur. Kids crying. Wife fuming. Me going right up to the hoodie’s face to tell him exactly what a s*** I thought he was. Dog bounding nonchalantly over the fence. Hoodie disappearing. Me saying: ‘The camera. Where’s the f***ing camera?’, finding it and, before wife could stop me, tracking down the hoodie via sundry concrete walkways and dingy alleyways to his housing estate.

(to read more, click here)

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There’s Nothing ‘Fantastic’ about Mister Fox’s PETA-Style Politics

Fantastic Mister Fox is the most poisonous and insidious piece of misanthropic, animal rights propaganda PETA never wrote. Its politics more closely resemble that of a rabidly townie, leftist vegetarian who believes that property is theft, meat production a vile perversion and pest control a form of racist genocide, than of some lovably eccentric children’s author. So if Roald Dahl is turning in his grave at the very weird things Wes Anderson has done to his classic book, then part of me is kind of pleased.

Here’s the trailer:

Not remotely like the book, I think you’ll agree, despite the fact that – presumably out of a desire to channel Dahl’s spirit – Wes Anderson wrote the script in the author’s old writing hut. He’s turned it into a vulpine update of Oceans Eleven, for gawd’s sake. And, as per ruddy usual, all the baddies have been given English accents while the goodies speak with American ones. I wonder whether I can coax the kids into not wanting see this one and coming with me to see that apparently brilliant new war movie about bomb disposal teams in Iraq instead…

Then again, incredibly annoying though I now find Roald Dahl’s deeply dubious animal rights politics – which surface again in The Twits, by the way – I can’t honestly claim they’ll do the world’s impressionable youth any harm. When I was a child it was my favourite Dahl book – even more so than James And The Giant Peach, which had my name on it. I liked Mister Fox’s devil-may-care, neckerchief-sporting raffishness; I rejoiced in the naughtiness of his thefts from the repellant Boggis, Bunce and Bean; I was desperately upset when he lost his brush; and was overjoyed when he and his family made their narrow escape.

Never put me off foxhunting, though, did it?

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  3. Earth does not have a cancer; the cancer is not man
  4. David Cameron, renewable energy and the death of British property rights.

Inconvenient Kids Tell the Eco-Fascists Where They Can Stick It

My heroes of the week are Kouros (7) and Roxanna (6) from Blackheath, photographed protesting outside the Climate Camp on their doorstep in the summer.

Climatekids

Their proud father tells me the trustafarian crusties inside the wire thought the placards were jolly sweet  till they read what they actually said.

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  3. The Arizona shootings were like Kwanzaa come early for America’s liberal fascists
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Government’s £6 million ‘Bedtime Story’ Climate Change Ad: Most Pernicious Waste of Taxpayers’ Money Ever?

The government has spent £6 million on a hard-hitting commercial warning children of the perils of failing to check under their beds and in their cupboards before they go to sleep.

The advert – “Watch Out – Or The Bogeyman Will Get You!” – has been rushed out by Ed Miliband’s Department of Ignorance And Fear Promotion (formerly Dept of Energy and Climate Change)  in response to  “worrying” statistics showing that 52 per cent of children think the Bogeyman “will never ever crawl from underneath my bed and get me, no not even if I don’t check”, with another 32 per cent saying “Well I suppose I ought to have a quick look, just in case” while another 15 per cent do not know. Just one per cent agree with the government’s statement: “Yes I believe that the Bogeyman exists and that he represents a greater threat to my future than even Al Qaeda, Gordon Brown’s mismanagement of the economy or racist language on Strictly Come Dancing.”

It shows a father reading a bedtime story to a cute little blonde girl, carefully selected because it is thought white middle class households will be most susceptible to this kind of guff. The bedtime story shows pets drowning and nice, middle class neighbourhoods like the little girl lives in being swamped by rising sea levels caused by Anthropogenor – a terrifying, black, fanged beast wearing a giant badge saying “Man Made CO2″, in order to illustrate that white middle class people very much like the girl’s father are largely responsible for this devastation because of their overuse of patio heaters and internet porn sites.

“Daddy, is it twue what some of my fwends at school say that the Bogeyman doesn’t exist so it’s OK not to check under my bed at night?” asks little girl.

At which point, the father snaps the book shut and slaps the little girl hard across the face.

“They LIE bitch!” he says. “The Bogeyman is REAL.”

Since its first broadcast on primetime television on Friday the Government has received numerous complaints from viewers protesting that the advert is brutal, wantonly misleading and, especially in the midst of a recession, the most spectacular waste of taxpayers money.

A spokesman for the Department of Ignorance and Fear Promotion admitted: “Yes we appreciate the evidence for the existence of the Bogeyman is thin and getting thinner by the day. But what you have to understand is that a lot of us here have invested a great deal of life and credibility in promoting the belief that the Bogeyman DOES exist and IS a problem. We simply can’t pull a U-turn like the BBC did last week on “Global Warming”. It would be too damned embarrassing.”

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How Pathetically Useless of Cambridge Union to Ban Michael Savage

I’ve long had a soft spot for Cambridge, the charming, picturesque fenland university for people not quite ambitious enough to get into Oxford. But I don’t think its Union debating society has done the place any favours by cancelling at the last minute its invitation to the US talk show host Michael Savage.

Savage was due to speak – via videophone – against the motion “This House Believes Political Correctness is Sane and Necessary” on October 15. The reason he had to do it by videophone, of course, is that he is officially banned from entering Britain.

Home secretary Jacqui Smith issued her fatwa against Michael Savage in the summer as one of the Labour government’s more risibly desperate measures to try to distract public attention from its awfulness. Her thinking went on the following lines: “Hey, I know. I’ll make a long list of the scariest, most murderous terrorists in the world, officially declare them banned from Britain then, at no more public cost than it took to issue the press release, I will be hailed as the Home Secretary who made Britain Safe.”

Then some bright spark noticed that the list included rather too many members of the Religion of Peace (TM). So Jacqui Smith – that brilliant intellect who declared that Islamist terrorist attacks in London and Glasgow in 2007 were “if anything anti-Islamic” – felt compelled to throw in a few non-Muslims too. Very handily Michael Savage – the popular US shock jock about whom no one in Britain had heard up until this point – was white, right-wing and Jewish. Bingo! The man was banned.

And now Cambridge Union has given the poor fellow another kick in the teeth by cancelling his only UK appearance. The Union is blaming technical and legal reasons:

“We have reconsulted with our counsel, and been informed that there are numerous legal issues with Dr Savage speaking here and so because of all of the technical, financial and legal problems involved, we have come to the reluctant conclusion that the event cannot proceed.”

Savage suspects that dark forces are at play and the British government leant on the Union.

“What did the socialist Brown regime fear I might say during the debate?” Savage asked. “What are they hiding from the general public that would have been exposed? Why do they wish to hide what they did to an innocent broadcaster?”

From my experience of the Cambridge Union, I’d say cock-up is far, far more likely than conspiracy. “Legal” reasons sounds like student-speak for “We got nervous about the potential controversy and protests by leftie agitators and chickened out…”

UPDATE:  just had a nice, polite email from the Union’s president elect saying the most pressing reason was financial.

We proposed to Dr Savage that he speak by videophone (/Skype), but his team demanded higher spec equipment than we were able to provide and were not willing to negotiate or contribute to the costs.

The £5000 plus that this event would have cost us – following their demands – was not an expense we could justify.

I believe this bit (though I’ve yet to be convinced by the legal part). Cambridge Union is not awash with cash and is very dependent on its members’ subscriptions. I don’t blame Americans for not knowing this – most British people wouldn’t either. There’s a common assumption that if it’s Oxbridge it must have money to burn. But 19 to 22 year olds – even clever ones – are skint. Especially now Oxbridge is so discriminatory you haven’t a prayer of getting a place these days if you were privately educated.

UPDATE 7pm GMT

Just had an email from Michael Savage’s producer, rebutting the Union’s rebuttal:

The communication you received from the Cambridge Union is inaccurate. To begin with, we were never quoted a cost of 5000₤ to us. The price they quoted to us was 3500₤, in a setup that they proposed to include 2 manned cameras, a sound engineer, a video production manager on site within the Union Chamber, a Polycom unit linked to two manned auxiliary cameras and microphones for the outgoing signal from the Chamber, two 50” plasma screen to display the incoming signal and a 17” monitor placed on Dr Savage’s seat in the Chamber. We did not feel that this elaborate a setup was necessary and were working with the Union to assemble a scheme which would be higher quality and have a more reliable connection than Skype, but be more affordable to them than what they proposed. We were then told that the event was cancelled. It is clear to me that these obstacles could have been overcome if there was a real desire to have the debate.

Moreover, the Cambridge Union cited ‘numerous legal issues’ that were never brought to our attention prior to the cancellation. What did they fear? In view of their having invited Dr. Savage in the first place, and having had ample opportunity to investigate the legal ramifications of this decision in advance, I believe it is fair to raise the question of whether they were pressured by any outside source to cancel the debate.

When I put this to the Union’s president-elect Jonathan Laurence, he said “No outside pressure was put on us. It was a very difficult decision to make”. But when I pressed him to explain what on earth these legal ramifications were he said he couldn’t comment further because of the chaos of Fresher’s week.

Hmm. I think my sympathies are back with Michael Savage.

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She’s a Fox, She Can Sing, She Can Draw (-ish): What’s Not to Like about Carla Bruni?

When I mentioned  a few months ago that if held at gunpoint and tied up to a bed I really could think of worse fates than being forced to have sex with Carla Bruni, my wife was utterly appalled. “She’s not pretty. Her eyes are too close together,” my wife said. “Only a man could possibly think Carla Bruni was pretty.”

Having seen her new website, I mind the idea of Carla forcing her toned, bronzed, pneumatic yet tender and yielding body on me even less. I especially like the doodles of all the famous people she gets to meet now that she has hitched herself to some well-connected French bloke whose name eludes me.

Sarah Brown – the soon-to-be-ex-prime-minister’s wife – complained on a Tweet that Carla Bruni’s Sarah Brown wasn’t at all realistic. But I think we can all agree, it’s a total ruddy Leonardo compared to Carla’s  Bob Geldof. When I saw her Bob – which I only knew was Bob because there’s a pop up thing on her site that tells you so – I was reminded a bit of a crappy pavement portraitist I saw the other day. You know the type: they advertise their skills using fabulously awful pictures they’ve done of famous people. But just in case you can’t recognise these people – which you can’t because the likenesses are crap – they’ve added helpful clues. The Queen will have a big crown on her head and a corgi at her feet; Arsene Wenger will have an Arsenal sign in the background; Lewis Hamilton will be standing by a racing car (with Lewis Hamilton written on the side) in case you mistake the picture for Jenson Button.

Anyway, I think it’s charming. Charmant, even.

Carla, never you mind what my wife says about your close-together eyes. I still think you’re a fox.

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If Class IS a Problem for David Cameron He Has Only Himself to Blame

As a blogger you get pretty used to reading the odd piece of utter bilge below your posts. But rarely have been quite so nauseated and shocked as I was by some of the comments yesterday on the piece I wrote about my Oxford days with my old mucker Dave Cameron.

After twelve years of Blair and Brown Britain is, I think we can all agree, in the most terrible mess. Our economy is in ruins thanks in good part to an outrageous spree of deficit spending by an irredeemably socialist Chancellor. The tax burden has risen (largely by stealth). Our freedoms have been circumscribed by ever-more-intrusive bureaucracy and legislation, governing everything from how we are allowed to illuminate homes and dispose of our rubbish to the way we arrange our childcare. Health and safety regulations have made harmless, traditional past times like the village fete or the school trip a nightmare of red tape, form filling, overcautiousness and needless expense. Dotted all over Britain are ghettoes – sorry “communities” – a worrying percentage of whose members believe it is their holy duty to destroy us from within, sometimes metaphorically and sometimes literally.

I could go on, but that’s enough for the moment. What leaves me truly gobsmacked is this: that after twelve years of utterly disastrous mismanagement by a ruling caste made up of socialists, liberals, progressives, grievance-mongers, rabble-rousers – all of them on the left, none of them exactly motivated by a desire to make life easier for the silver-spoonfed and privately-educated – there are still pillocks out there so stupid as to believe that the problems of Britain are essentially to do with the facts that people like David Cameron and Boris Johnson went to Eton and Oxford, that some people have more money than others, that some people have bigger houses than other people, and that it’s all jolly unfair.

Get real, you unutterable tossers! Normally I’m quite good with words and insults, but in this instance I find it all but impossible to express how much I despise you for your ignorance, your refusal to see the glaring evidence before you, your chippy repellance, your stale, cliched view of the world, your bitterness, your wrongness and puke-making fatuousness. Go to North Korea, you twonks! Enjoy what it is to be classless and free!

Now the Cameroon analysis of this situation would go something like this: “Aha, so you finally get the problem. Against all reason, there really are still lots of people out there whose analysis of Britain’s problems is rooted in class resentment. Therefore, we can never be as boldly ideological as some of us might like to be. We must catch the monkey softly softly, for example, by adopting fiscally brain-dead policies like sticking to Labour’s 50p upper rate tax band, not because it will bring more money into the Exchequer’s coffers but because it will appeal to the mob’s desire to see rich people suffer.”

Naturally, I disagree. I don’t believe that surrender-monkey nonsense about politics being the “art of the possible.” Anything is possible, but first you have to make your case. The best thing about Conservatism – the reason I’m a conservative – is that the facts of life are Conservative. It’s really not that difficult to argue the conservative position because its also the best position, the one that most accords with reality and human nature. Conservatism is the philosophy of “It’s not where you’re from; it’s where you’re at.” In other words, it doesn’t matter whether you were born in a stately home or the lowest ghetto: a conservative believes as far as is reasonably possible that EVERYONE should be afforded equal opportunities.

But equality of opportunity – note – NOT equality of outcome.

There. I’ve solved the problem of Conservatism and class in one par. Why couldn’t those spineless Cameroons?

By the way, don’t forget to laugh at me being ridiculed in When Boris Met Dave on TV tonight. I really recommend these outtakes too. Especially the ones with me in:

http://www.channel4.com/programmes/when-boris-met-dave/articles/exclusive-video-clips

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I have Just Seen the Conservatives’ Future. Unfortunately, It’s in New Zealand

So it’s just as we thought: the Conservatives are a bunch of timid, Blairite statists who aren’t going to drag us out of Europe and are going to spend the next 5 years treading water.

But just imagine, for a moment, a Tory party conference in an alternative universe in which they’d made some of the following commitments:

  • Massive tax cuts to boost economic growth.
  • Sweeping health care reform – cutting back on bureaucracy, encouraging private health care, improving value in the system.
  • A coalition with the Libertarian party committing the government to free markets, individual freedom and a minimal welfare state.
  • A keynote speech from the party leader saying: “There’s a limit to what governments can do.”

Well if you lived in New Zealand you wouldn’t need to imagine because they’ve got it already in the form of John Key and his centre-right National party. (Hat Tip: Tom Blanton)

Seriously, if you were jealous enough of the Kiwis already – what with their Lord Of The Rings scenery, their kakapo parrots, and their Cloudy Bay sauvignon blanc – then I really don’t recommend you read this article on John  Key in the National Review Online by Lydia Bevege. It will make you want to up sticks and emigrate IMMEDIATELY.

Here’s a taste:

Delivering his first budget in May, Key continued to distinguish his economic policies from those being adopted in Washington, London, and Canberra. He imposed a cap on government spending set at half the average spending level over the past five years, reining in government growth to 2 percent per year. Key’s “line-by-line” review of federal spending identified and cut back $2 billion worth of non-essential programs. His conservative budget pushed the New Zealand dollar higher and prompted the ratings agency Standard & Poor to increase New Zealand’s foreign-currency rating from negative to stable.

Who do we want? John Key. When do we want him? Now!

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