I see your jolly old face having a spiffing old time, a tweed caricature of a classic English gentleman from a time when we didn’t all have to be politically correct and could instead be corrupt bastards accepting brown envelopes stuffed with cash in exchange for political favours. It is an absolute fucking joke that the political landscape of this country still includes you, comedy tie and all, an unashamedly farcical pillock with his nose buried so deeply in the establishment trough that the flesh of your nostrils has surgically welded itself to the bottom of it.
With the utterly spectacular collapse of UKIP we’d almost forgotten about you, but if there’s one thing you’re good for it’s a tone-deaf self-humiliation and boy, have you outdone yourself this time. Hearing you use the phrase “dank memes” is as laughable as watching Boris Johnson try to speak Swahili. In your idiocy you’re lauding the arrival of Paul Joseph Watson, Count Dankula, Sargon of Akkad and Milo Yiannopoulos to UKIP as if they’re there to help you. They’re literally trumpeting from the rooftops that they’re entering “for the lolz” and you’ve opened the gates to them with a cheer. It is the single most embarrassing tweet I’ve ever seen and in the dystopian social media wasteland politics now seems to operate in, that is fucking saying something. You’ve become king of the septic tank overnight, hitching your wagon to the mirage of social media popularity in the vain hope it can save your dying party from plummeting off a cliff.
“Free Speech!” is your new battle cry, the thunderous call of every newly-empowered dickhead who doesn’t understand the first thing about what it genuinely means. Dank memes, social media contrarians, edge lords and “ironic” racists aren’t and haven’t ever been the true defenders of free expression. They’re the cost of it, benefiting from their manufactured exploitations of the entrenched system, making enemies of “others” as if their bigotry is some new and radical perspective rather than just old injustice wrapped in a shiny new condom. It’s the same tired old prejudice, except now it’s on Twitter or Instagram whining in front of a map about how it’s somehow oppressed. If you’re using moral outrage porn to flog authoritarian agendas to teenagers, you’re about as ‘establishment’ as it gets, regardless of how you try to define yourself. It is crybaby nonsense, weak-willed panic at the thought of genuine equality exposing utterly selfish children as the terminally average morons that they truly are.
Should it be oppressed or silenced? Not if you truly believe in free expression, and it’s about time that the most censorious elements of the left stopped handing the moral victories on that front to these scumbags. But it is absolute fucking nonsense that a tiny minority of idiots somehow deserve the same platform as those interested in honest debate. If the ignored ‘few’ were truly oppressed, Nigel Farage would never be on the telly, yet he’s practically reserved a seat on Question Time despite being as relevant as Betamax. You can’t shout “oppression!” when you have a platform as huge as Watson’s. Milo wasn’t censored; he just pushed his toxic bollocks so far that even his sponsors cringed and recoiled from him. Dankula shouldn’t have been convicted for anything other than being criminally boring, but by throwing his lot in with this set of twats he’s exposed himself as predictably disingenuous. Full disclosure, I’ve no fucking idea who Sargon of Akkad is, but this is one of the rare occasions that I’ll judge a man by the company he keeps and assume he’s hardly Mary Poppins. All we need now is the shiny when Tommy Robinson signs up when he’s out of prison and we can all start collecting our twat swapsies.
And pulling the strings? The reality is that UKIP are essentially on course for infiltration at the hands of InfoWars, the moneylenders in Milo and Watson’s temple of free speech. What an absolute fucking buffoon you are, Neil Hamilton, raising a glass to an overlord who claims murdered children are paid actors in a tawdry attempt to flog his snake oil to idiots.
I see you, Neil Hamilton, dancing around the courtyard in your purple and yellow motley, the bells on your hat and toes ringing. I see Gerard Batten watching from a window, the latest king in a rapid line of political suicides. I hear the bells ringing out in celebration as the last few members of UKIP tow the enormous wooden horse into the grounds of the castle. What an absolute jape it all is. It’s all fun and games, this fashionable alt-right bollocks. It’s bound to be an absolute bloody riot.
Until night falls, and the horse’s arse opens to shit them out, and you’re overrun by a bunch of vicious trolls.
You absolute fucking cuck, Neil Hamilton.
I see you, Neil Hamilton. I fucking see you.