Tag Archives: land of wokes & snowflakes

Racists in the UK! WokForkers pub in London, where the staff monitor everyone for racist comments - if you are white! AI-generated image

Racists in the UK! Tips for Barmaids on How to Do Their Job

Leave a Reply

A racist-themed evening down at the local

29 July 2026 – Racists in the UK! Tips for Barmaids on How to Do Their Job

The images in this post have been generated using artificial intelligence and are intended for illustrative purposes only. None of the visuals imply any real-world endorsement, affiliation, or association with any specific product, brand, or entity. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places, or events is purely coincidental.

[Posted in category Mick Hart’s Diary 2026]

In case you haven’t noticed or are a liberal lefty in lefty denial, there is, in the UK today, a severe and palpable sense of racially aggravated unease among the rightful heirs of our British heritage. Failed socially engineered multiculturalism, the daily arrival of ‘boat people’ flooding with open government arms into blighted Britain, high-profile racially motivated vicious crimes where the victim is almost exclusively white, a tension that is tangible and alleged two-tier policing are polarising the political spectrum into those who crave more woke and migrants and those who never asked for either and feel they could do quite well without.

Our esteemed former prime minister, the man who everybody likes to dislike, even by those of his own kind, who, in spite of loss of support, including from those in his own party, refused to take the glaring hint and would not pack his bags and go until he was given the royal arse-boot, was too busy during his time in office posing for cheesy, smarmy photos with Ukraine’s converted comedian, the ubiquitous Mr Zelensky, rather than do what Britons demand and ultimately deserve, which is to tackle the immigrant crisis.

Any hope that the new Labour hopeful, Andrew ‘call me Andy’ Burnham, and his newly elected cabinet (bye-bye, Mr Lammy) will apply themselves to this existential problem is not a hope that we should cling to. As long as the old two past-it parties continue to be voted in by the stuck-in-their-ways, heads-up-their-arses, gormless British electorate, the streets of Britain will grow more dangerous, and our towns and cities will become, as many are already, the unrecognizably menacing places that the prophet Enoch Powell predicted all those years ago.

Meanwhile, as Andy Burnham and his Labour cohorts celebrate accession into the breach, a little-known chain of public houses, once celebrated for common sense, seem bent on repositioning themselves as number one in the woke parade.

Racists in the UK! Tips for Barmaids on How to Do Their Job

A few weeks ago, I ventured out for a pint at my friend’s local WokeForkers. It was that evening on the day of the week when I expected the pub to be quiet, which, indeed, it initially was, little knowing, however, that the latest roster of bar staff (these pubs seem to change their bar staff faster than I can change my underpants – old proverb, every gusset has a suspect lining) had just emerged from company training, from which, and I kid you not, not one of the dunces or dullards had mastered the art of anything, least of all, I warrant, the essential public relations skills which, for as long as hospitality has existed, have always been first and foremost for running a pub successfully.

This, however, was not the least among their greatest disadvantages, although the one begets the other, for they were also of that dismal generation, which, duly processed, packed and prepared by the corporate liberal sausage factory, the British education system, programmes the poor unfortunate wretches for a life of second-class citizenship, making them fat between the ears, ready for the country’s future, which many pundits see as comparable to a slaughterhouse.

I have no idea, do you, where some pubs get their staff from? They seem, by their dour expressions, surly, disinterested ways and chip-on-the-shoulder attitudes, as if, like Zelensky’s army, they have been dragged off from the streets. Whatever it is they teach them at Pub Mismanagement School, devotion to duty isn’t it, neither are the principal tenets required of the hospitality trade, such as amiability, affability, congeniality and conviviality, and above all and most importantly, the indisputable golden rule that customers should at all times be treated with respect – as the customers are those very people who, by putting their money over the bar, pay the barmaids’ wages.

Perhaps the problem lies in the fact that most of the staff are female, and those who aren’t are not much different, for even those whose gender poses difficult questions look and act as though every moment is a hormonal crisis. It only goes to show that in any mismanaged democracy, you need to be extremely careful who you give the vote to, let alone give them leave to stand mardy and daft behind the bar as if the menopause arriving early has turned off the smile along with the taps and all they are waiting to do is call ‘last orders’. Now, don’t call me sexist! Like the WokeForker’s staff who earole everyone, I am merely repeating what I heard someone say at a table whose conversation was personal, private and had nothing to do with me whatsoever. {The opinions in this post are not necessarily those of the person you might think I am.}

On the drinking night in question, the night I had anticipated would be pleasantly quiet, the one thing I had not bargained for was a themed evening revolving around “You can’t say that; it’s racist?”

Tips for Barmaids on How to Do Their Job

Now this particular pub in Wellsford Garden City stands at a junction with Ethnic Street. And one of the reasons I like to drink there is that by sitting next to the windows, you can watch the world, such as it is or as it has sadly become, go by, whilst wishing it would go away. How much nicer it would be to gaze through those same windows and see on the other side of them Britain as it used to be before the migrant invasion (a cluster of wistful, heartfelt sighs!).

“You’re not supposed to say that!”

“I know. It’s a bugger, isn’t it.”

Psychologist, psychiatrist, anthropologist, social historian, time traveller, circus trainer, zookeeper, most emphatically zookeeper, but anyone, in fact, who is seeking a snapshot of UK life can get it from one of these window seats, and once you are over the shock of it  – to do this takes two or three visits – the spectacle unfolding is almost as freakishly entertaining as it is distressing. We’ll say no more of that. Ungird your loins, as most of them do, and go and see for yourselves.

On the evening when my account took place, we had not long taken temporary residence in these very seats, which look out onto the madness at which I have hinted, when, flying around the corner on two wheels, like something out of an ancient Sweeney episode or a cartoon from the 1960s, came a cop car at full tilt.

Something serious must have occurred, but what? Had someone been making mean tweets on his phone? Had an act of terrorism taken place that urgently needed to be hushed up in the interests of ‘race relations’? Was the High Street under siege by a terrifying far-right rally attended by two old grannies; a woman who dared to call herself that; and a moved-from-Rochdale (quickly) choirboy who, whilst not yet supporting Labour, might be trained to do so when he’s given the vote at the age of 13? (Roll up! Roll up! Here exclusively in the UK, Labour’s young performing poodles!) But no, we were wrong on every count. Whatever it was that had kicked off, it was here, among us, at WokeForkers, whose highly intelligent bar staff had gone and called the old bill.

The marauding cop car screamed to a halt, as they so dramatically do in 1940s black-and-white films (careful what you say there!), and seconds later in they marched – two of Britain’s finest: one with a head that was really quite bald and the other wearing his colleague’s toupee, which, dislodged when the driver hit the brakes, had landed on his chin, lending him the appearance of the Wild Man from Borneo, which I suppose must mean he lives in Luton.

Racists in the UK! Police in UK WokeForkers pub march in: one is bald, the other is wearing his colleague's toupee on his chin. AI-generated image
AI-generated image

As we were sitting miles away from the bar (it’s a prudent thing to do, out of earshot of the WokeForkers’ Stasi), we couldn’t at all make out what was going on, but we knew that it must be serious, for why else would the police have been called?

After a full ten minutes in which nothing happened at all, a tall gent, foreign-looking, wearing what looked like a Chinese face and carrying a populist tote bag (it had a Union Jack on its side) marched defiantly, with no police escort, as though he were guilty of nowt, apart from the tartan kilt he was wearing, across the space of the room and disappeared onto the street.

You would have thought that being let off by our more than lenient British policemen (well, I said that he was foreign-looking, or he would have been arrested), the accursed fiend would have counted his blessings and made himself particularly scarce, but this he did not do. No sooner had he exited than he was spotted by one of our party eating apples near the pub’s back door. Eating apples! Near the pub’s back door!!!! His unacceptable presence must have been detected by one of WokeForkers’ ever-vigilant CCTV installations (for if ever a street was in need of a camera, then Ethnic Street is it), as moments later, the dynamic duo – Baldy booby and Beardy bobby – were out there on the street giving the culprit a piece of their minds, which he, the ungrateful recipient, looked as though he neither wanted nor knew what use he could put them to.

At this point in time, we had not the faintest idea what it was that had gone down, so naturally we were all of a mind, “Well done, those boys in blue; it’s best you move him on!” The truth of the matter is, however, that this extremely dangerous man, for what else could he be, tried himself three or four times to move by his own volition, but whenever he made to walk away, the coppers were on him again.

Just as they, as a group, drew level with our viewing window, a female member of the establishment’s bar staff came to collect some empty glasses. Someone in our party asked her what the problem was. I think we were all expecting to hear a sorry tale of attempted murder –  after all, it’s fast becoming a national pastime in Britain – but what we got instead was a sorry something else.

“Oh dear!” went the girl, her attitude and countenance struggling to contain the dreadful trauma she had just experienced. “He [the Chinese man in a kilt] was making racist remarks at the bar … saying things about !*!*… When I argued with him, he brought up the subject of !*!*and {here was the real big hit!} He mentioned Tommy Robinson!” At the uttering of Tommy Robinson’s name, she literally, physically shuddered, and I thought for a moment she would fade away like a latter-day Gothic heroine or crumple into insignificance like tomorrow’s and the next day’s and every edition before and after of that mamby-pamby left-wing pamphlet, now on the web, the Guardinistan.

“But he’s not a white bloke, is he?” one of our party asked, presuming by prescription that no one could be accused of racism unless they were unconditionally white.

We all peered out of the window to test the validity of this assertion: it was hard to tell just what the man was, standing there in his Chinese face, looking all Jock-like in his kilt and feverishly eating apples, but what he expressly wasn’t, or had no reason to look like, was a man that was guilty of anything more than not having chosen his pub too carefully.

“Oh yes, he is a white man,” returned the wilting maiden, in an emphatic tone of voice and a horridly fraught expression that clearly suggested he could be no other.

“But you have to admit that his eyes aren’t British and his complexion is …”

She peeped through the window alongside me: “I suppose he must have a suntan.”

What a lucky chap, I thought; he must have been somewhere nice, somewhere other than WokeForkers, as there certainly was a definite dearth of any sunshine here, or anywhere, for that matter, where sunshine is employed symbolically to reflect a happy cultural climate, the likes of which we no longer have in the Disunited Migrant Kingdom.

If the barmaid had expected a commiserative response from us, she would have been sorely disappointed, since we were all too busy trying to fathom why a racist comment, if indeed there had actually been one, and a verbal reference to Tommy Robinson (I always get his name mixed up with a certain lefty actor) justified the deployed resources and exceedingly precious time of not one but a brace of coppers – and they were not even hobby bobbies! – whose only contribution, from what we were able to discern, was a forty-minute ideological lecture.

At length, and quite a long length at that, the taken-to-task white imposter, for so he seemed to us, made his third or fourth attempt to quietly walk away, only to have himself recalled by yet another officer. Had someone mentioned Tommy again? They had brought in reinforcements!

Racists in the UK!

At this juncture, the harangued man was literally at a junction; he was standing on a traffic island in the middle of the road, and as he reserved his legal right not to return to the beckoning copper, Mr Plod-come-lately, who was rather of that group which included PCs Baldy and Beardy, the most pugnacious of the three, marched across the road to him, where the poor man duly received yet another remonstration.

This peculiar – and rational people might say – preposterous police procedural episode persisted for yet another twenty pointless finger-wagging minutes, with the man, who was no doubt ardently wishing he had gone anywhere else in the world but WokeForkers, standing, in every respect, head and shoulders above his inquisitors and responding to their pontifications in a cool, calm, and collected manner, giving, from what we could see, a lot better than what he was getting, as people do when knowing that by being in the right they have natural testimony on their side, finally, having had enough of it and not having lost his temper, as I suppose this is what the coppers wanted, waved his hands in tired conclusion and strode away in his riding-up kilt, his single man’s sack – full of apples – swinging in the breeze, like a man who had clearly won his argument and was off to a decent pub.

Racists in the UK! A man in a kilt, holding a bag of apples is told off by three police officers.
AI-generated image

The irony of the situation, as irony tends to lurk, don’t you think, around virtually every corner in life, like racist men in kilts armed with bags of apples, was that it wasn’t more than ten minutes after this extraordinary piece of theatre, which, according to our collective opinion, was a complete and utter waste of time, that I trekked off to the bar to replenish our party’s glasses.

The young barmaid behind the bar, who was entirely where you’d expect her to be, with a must-have ring thrust through her snout and her hair all dyed in a laughable colour, asked me what I wanted to drink. So far, so good, so proper, but I couldn’t quite make up my mind. WokeForkers sell mighty fine ales, unmatched, unfortunately, by their bar staff, and often one is spoiled for choice, which is sadly and far too commonly not the case with their bar staff.

It just so happened by a quirk of Time that a middle-aged chap had arrived at the bar contiguous with my own arrival, and with me being in full dither, he was given the option to order his beer ahead of me, but he, like me but for different reasons, was also finding the simple task of placing his order difficult due to the row from the TV set, which was showing a BBC broadcast of a gaggle of noisy migrants celebrating the short bus ride from the shores of Dover to a 5-star hotel.

He apologised to the barmaid for not being able to make himself heard: “I’m sorry,” he said, politely, “but some illegal migrants on the telly are talking rather loud.”

The barmaid immediately froze; her jaw shot down several metres like Frank Zappa’s Billy the Mountain’s; her ridiculous blue hair bristled; her face underwent a monstrous change, which wasn’t exactly a bad thing because it wasn’t particularly pleasant even in its ‘normal’ state, but now it appeared all bent and twisted as though savagely infected by a virulent dose of that plague exclusive to the liberal left called ‘outrage’ or was cast in a mask of tormented virtue like Hope not Hate’s at its most hypocritical.

“What did you say?!” she demanded.

I tried to prevent the middle-aged man from reiterating his previous utterance, for, being an expert on leftist ire, the motivation behind the question was all too plain to see: the harridan behind the bar was gunning for confrontation. But the inoffensive middle-aged chap, believing no ill in what he had said, merely repeated what he had said.

Those of you familiar with Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist will have no difficulty, I am sure, in recalling the manner in which Mr Bumble reacted when Oliver asked for more, and had our rancid barmaid been auditioning for Bumble’s part in the soap-operatic drama that she had taken upon herself to direct, I would recommend her before you could say, ‘Does she not know how to smile?’ but I wouldn’t employ her behind a bar for all the inflatable dinghies in France or all the beer at WokeForkers (OK, well even I can make concessions!)

With her hackles raised, which made her hair look dafter, and inconsolably rigid with outrage, she could hardly muster utterance, but when she retrieved her articulation, she suddenly cried out, “Racist! What you’ve said is racist!” and straightaway she was on it, like a chronic dose of the shits, calling loudly along the bar, “We’ve got a racist here!”

Immediately, in response to her wailing, a beanpole excuse for a man sporting a bun on his head, without an arse in his trousers and masquerading as something that was worth the space he occupied, lickety-splitted fast-like from the opposite end of the bar, where no doubt he had been lying in wait to pounce on the first errant customer (who, for public consumption, had to be white) for making racist remarks.

The female Mr Bumble reported her findings to him, and immediately he went from looking absolutely and totally gormless to adopting a posture of high alert, as if he needed his nappies changing and the only one he could trust with this task was wonderless woman the manager – well, lefties are known for their kinks. Not to dwell on that too much, a second racist in one evening had been unmasked at the WokeForkers’ bar! [Dramatic chords of music!]

The manager, female I think, but then I could be wrong, was on the scene like a butcher’s dog, but the amiable white middle-aged man, who was clearly racist because of this fact if not for any other, knowing what they were at, waved his hand contemptuously and with a rewarding complacent smile casually walked away, leaving his three would-be antagonists, all of whom he had made quite clear he wouldn’t touch with yours, which is to say, your resentment and anger, looking perfectly stupid. And one has to raise the question, could they look anything else?

AI-generated image. Female bar staff at WokeForkers pub shocked by racist remarks"
AI-generated image

Left standing alone as I was, the dangling-in-the-wind manager had no one else, only me, to turn to, so rounding on me, it said, as if I really wanted to know, “Like every responsible pub, we adhere to a zero-tolerance policy.” Should I have been impressed? It sounded lame and weary.

I wanted to say it was a pity that we didn’t have a similar policy to stop the boats from flooding in as well as one to prevent the left from ethnically cleansing the white population and its sovereign culture, but I contented myself by thinking these things and tried to suppress a smirk as I said, with remarkable cheerfulness, “And what an effective policy it is to be sure (crikey, I was close to sounding Irish!), but as all I am trying to do is order a pint of beer, perhaps someone would be so kind as to take my order and serve me.” I almost had to shout to be heard as the illegal migrants on the telly were having such a raucous time here in dear old England that it sent a shiver of pride from the nape of my neck to my balls, er of my feet, and elsewhere throughout my body, or something of that persuasion, to acknowledge that I belonged to such a recklessly tolerant nation.

The immediate panic over, and the alarmist barmaid having returned from wherever she had scuttled off to fortify her troubled self with intakes of air and smelling salts, I promptly ordered my pint.

As she pushed the glass against the tap, it was then that she took her Marxist role just a little too far.

“I suppose you’re racist too?” she rasped.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Woke Watch UK!

Now call me old school or even old-fashioned, but in my long and illustrious career of supporting the British pub, I have had the belief instilled in me that barmaids are there to pull your pint, not to pull your chain.

The answer that I was ready to give was manifold, such as “Has your girlfriend left you? Is it the wrong time of the month? Or don’t you know what gender you are?” But I knew that she was goading me, so the compliant answer given was, “Yes, of course I am; I’m a white English male; how could I be anything else but racist? ” But then I went on to correct her, saying that I am not a racist; I am a realist, and that, whilst the words have a similar ring to them, there’s a world of difference between the two, and it is only the left who confuse them because it suits their divisive agenda.

Having failed to elicit the response that she was so keenly after and not knowing what further to do to advance her cunning plan, from then on she shut her trap and did what she was paid to do – poured the pint and took the money.

Racists in the UK! Tips for Barmaids on How to Do Their Job

Now, you may be thinking, and rightly so, that all that I have related is a silly storm in a teacup, and in this you would be right; in itself, it is. But when you collate these issues — a ‘zero tolerance policy’, which works like a one-way street; an almost hysterical urge by giddy-headed girly staff to adopt the role of brain police rather than confine themselves to what they are paid to do, ie take your order and pull your pint; the praises sung of ethnic enrichment, in tones of a drugged-up parrot, when nothing could be further and more nauseatingly far from the truth; and the programmed decrying of racism aimed at native Britons living quietly in their own country, because it is their country and because it is their heritage, and they would like to keep it that way – when all these factors are added together, rollocks! A piece of general advice would be that people that work in pubs should do the job they are paid to do and never stick their oar in. Comprehendi lefties?

Should, dear reader, in spite of the evidence that I have laid before you, an element of doubt yet persist, then ask yourself the following: Did an alleged racist comment by a man in a kilt with a bag of apples standing at WokeForkers’ bar warrant the intervention of not one, not two but three police officers? Did the chap who stood at the bar and wryly referred to the noisy migrants deserve the reaction he received from the neurotically troubled barmaid? And wasn’t it, don’t you think, just a little bit on the impudent side, not to mention provocative, when the lowly underpaid serving wench overstepped her mark by calling me out as racist (not that he gives a f*ck, shouts an inconsiderate heckler) when all I had said and done was order a pint of beer?

A week or so in the aftermath of that evening of entertainment, how dire the weather was for June inserted itself, as weather does in English conversations, during a chat between yours truly and a stranger in a pub, which was not, I hasten to add, WokeForkers’, for you have to be careful, very careful what you say in there!

“Considering how vile the weather has been of late,” said I, “the UK has to be the last country on earth where you’d want to be faced with extortionate fees for gas and electric heating.”

Quickly the man addressed replied that these are not the only things that are wrong with this country today, and discovering from that moment forward that we were mutual travellers not only in kind but also in destination, off we went down the bumpy road on route to collapsing Britain, stopping off on the way at the cultural climate of fear engendered by accusations of racism and what it did for a man called Nowak; the knife-wielding migrant butcher prowling the streets of Belfast; the ethnic-obsessed two-tier cop shop; tragic Southport; indefensible Rochdale; and the saddo younger generation, whom our pied piper politicians are leading up the garden path and tossing over Culture Loss Cliff. We also took a detour to reflect upon the situation of an authoritarian incumbent PM, whom, no matter how many want him out, simply won’t F Off!* Naturally, when we had gotten to where we knew our journey would take us, which was around and around and around in circles, I apprised my fellow traveller about the ‘spot the racist night’, hosted by Wellford’s WokeForkers.

“Civil war,” is coming, he said, solemnly shaking his head. “Everyone you talk to is thinking and saying the same.”

One cannot deny the uneasy feeling that the hands on the doomsday clock identified by Elon Musk are moving inexorably closer to that retributive midnight hour.

Close the curtains, bolt the doors and turn the television on for a counter-intuitive narrative, if that’s the only defence you have against what is lurking out there on the streets, but confront, do not avoid, those disturbing images of the migrant boats as they keep flooding in, and if anyone calls you racist when you speak your mind, remember what terrors silence will bring and wear your antagonists’ failed agenda as you would wear a badge of honour.

How will it all end, you ask? “Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!”

* He’s gone, and the panacea replacing him is ‘Nice to see me being nice’, good old Andy Burnham. What are you going to do about violence on the streets, Andy, the steamrolling immigration problem, and the boats flooding into Dover? Are we ever going to get a PM who is brave enough to grow a pair and save us from extinction, or are our PMs and our much-maligned country forever doomed to be controlled by pseudo-liberal globalists?

PS: If you are planning on getting stabbed in the not-too-distant future, you could do a lot worse and be a lot more stupid by doing it in Manchester, since ‘news just in’ informs us that in selected parts of the city, wall-mounted ‘bleed kits’ are being installed. How reassuring is that! Who needs law and order when you’ve got a political plaster?

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller, knocking at the moonlit door’

‘No!’ was the answer from Number 10. At least no one here who will or dares to give you the answer you’re looking for.

🎶🎶Things aint what they used to be 🎶🎶

Vote Green for Migrant Detention Centres Near You!

Vote Green for Migrant Detention Centres Near You! – Expat in Kaliningrad, Russia

Life in the UK – it’s all so peculiar

Life in the UK – it’s all so peculiar – Expat in Kaliningrad, Russia

Copyright © 2018-2026 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Colston Woke Statue 4 please Colston statue

Colston Woke Statue 4 Scratch the Itch of History

Woke up children! I don’t think Colston cares that much!

Published: 14 January 2022 ~ Colston Woke Statue 4 Scratch the Itch of History

Woke Watch PC UK! {Case 4}

Congratulations! Hoorah! Yippee!

Great celebrations throughout the land of Wokedom! Hark! Sound the bells in the Cathedral of Woke in joyous proclamation: Hurrah! Hurrah! The yobs who uprooted the statue of Edward Colston and tossed it into the side of Bristol harbour are not yobs at all, they are in fact national heroes. Ding Dong Ding, Ding Dong Ding … Clang …  

Colston Woke Statue 4 scratch the itch of History

They went into court charged with criminal damage but emerged from it ~ let’s not say ‘whiter than white’ ~ vindicated. The jury returned a verdict of ‘not guilty’.

Were the four as triumphant as they looked or simply basking in the delusion that because they had been duped into playing the part of useful idiots somehow the verdict had transformed them into a credit to their generation?

Of course, a far simpler and more credible explanation in these blighted times is that the young clones (clowns if you want) received a pat on the back instead of a boot up the arse because they behaved with exemplary Wokism. If ever testimony was needed that ideological brainwashing works then it doesn’t get much better than this, excluding, of course, candle-lit vigils.

Indeed, in an article published by Metro1, one of the absolved, a female yoof with a ring through her snout, is showcased revelling in virtue-signalling limelight. How does it go? Every dog must have its day! Woof!

Colston Woke Statue 4 receive letter from Edward Colston

Reading from the usual script, we hear the same old tired and sanctimonious cliches about ‘equality’, ‘police brutality’ blah, blah, blah … and a telling remark relating the actions of the four Wokerteers to that of the suffragette movement, which seems to imply that not only is trial by jury a cornerstone of democracy but also so is violence and vandalism. Feel a bit miffed about something? Then why not go throw a brick or bust up a postbox? The suffragettes did! Good for them. Now women can vote, wear a ring through their snouts and run around pulling down statues. Take a bow whilst you’re taking that knee!

It is nothing short of hilarious that a blatant act of vandalism, excused by a woke jury, in a court of law administered by a woke judicial system, should be used by woke mainstream media as a rallying cry to campaign against wokism. (I mentioned the word woke once or twice, but I think I got away with it. No, really, ask my jury.)

Not convinced that the failure to prosecute these vandals is something to trumpet about in the name of racial equality, but I am more than certain that as justification for acts of vandalism it will open the floodgates to copycat incidents even more successfully than an ideological wedge rammed in the door of border control.

WOKE WATCH UK!

🤣Broken News Just In!😂

Ay up, news just in (13 Jan 2022)! The statue bashers are on the rampage! As I write this, I learn that a barncake has attacked the Eric Gill statue at BBC Broadcasting House2. Admittedly, it is a tad ironic that the BBC should have a large statue erected by a paedo adorning their headquarters when you consider the recent scandals surrounding Mr Saville and Co and more so in that the Beeb’s reporting of the four children who ‘rectified history’ and were given a resounding three cheers for their actions have since proved the adage that ‘what goes around, comes around’. Tell me, has Mr Gill’s statue escape with his winky intact? Ahh well, there goes another national monument to be replaced by something on the ‘right side of history’ ~ something black and gay should do the trick.

By the way, here is an extract from a MSM report3 on that incident. You’ll Ha! Ha! at the wokism in this!

“The protester … forcefully hammered away at the statue, removing large chunks of stone while the police stood and watched due to health and safety reasons. 😄

After more than four hours😄 , Met Police officers and the London Fire Brigade used a cherry-picker to bring the man down. Once on the ground, the police detained him. The protest comes just days after four BLM supporters🐑 were acquitted of felling a statue to the slave trader Edward Colston … A spokesman for the Met said: ‘London Ambulance Service checked the activist 🙄 [PC Plod: “You know, you should really wear goggles when defacing public and private property …”] before making an arrest on suspicion of criminal damage.

#

Statues, street signs, monuments, stained glass windows, historic buildings, antiques, objects of antiquity, paintings ~ there really is no end to the list of ‘victories’ waiting in the wings for self-styled woke revisionists.

I wonder what history will make of them when the future that they have made for themselves becomes the present in which they are trapped?

Meanwhile, let’s hope that the intelligent members of the jury who returned a verdict of ‘not guilty’ on the statue-shifting knee-takers have their garden statues (and everything else) very well insured.

L. Roy Woke & Sons & Sons & Sons Estate Agents
Beautiful property, well appointed, four bedrooms … Freehold. No connection with slave traders, President Trump, Jimmy Saville, the Roman Empire, Brexit, a male Dr Who, rainbow-less skies, Rolf Harris’s didgeridoo and anyone not gender neutral. There are two statues in the back garden, but they shouldn’t cause any offence: one is taking a knee and the other is going ‘Baa’.

Copyright © 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

And What’s More!
Christmas in the Land of Vax
How to deal with a Vaccinated family member at Christmas
Don’t let that man spoil your vaccinated Christmas!

References
1. https://metro.co.uk/2022/01/09/woman-who-toppled-colston-statue-slams-tory-war-on-woke-15889030/
2. https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-bristol-59727161
3. https://www.artlyst.com/news/protester-attacks-eric-gill-statue-bbc-broadcasting-house/

Image attributions
Statue of Edward Colston: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Statue_Of_Edward_Colston.jpg
House: http://clipart-library.com/clipart/6ir67RyBT.htm


Gender-Neutrals in their Flying Machines

Those Magnificent Gender-Neutrals in their Flying Machines

Woke Watch PC UK! {Case 4} Those Magnificent Gender-Neutrals in their Flying Machines

“This is your Captain speaking, I may have a male voice, but don’t let that fool you! Welcome to flight B for Bandit, three letters starting with a B, 0707 gender-neutral heaven. We are currently cruising at 35,000 feet under a rainbow with pink varnish on our toenails. Our estimated arrival at the Isle of Person is recommended as the weather is bright and gay, so I am not allowed to fly you anywhere else. Please continue to keep you seat belts fastened, as we are expecting some politically correctly turbulence as we fly through EU air space and flak over Berlin. May I take this opportunity to welcome you aboard. Thank you, whatever you think you are and what Nature will never allow you to be, for flying Woke Airlines today.”

Just when you thought that the UK could not get more Woke, the country’s flagship carrier British Airways leapfrogs into the PC queue with its announcement that it is dropping the very British and very correct salutation, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’. Presumably, concerned that the whingeing, whining, hand wringing, bed-wetting gender-neutral brigade might shoot them down with accusations of being too binary, British Airways have scrambled to copy airlines from other woke-oriented countries, such as Canada, for example, and Germany, lifting off on a non-scheduled flight to destinations unknown ~ in non-woke speak they have jettisoned an age-old and perfectly respectful tradition without, according to media reports, having any clear idea of what they will replace it with.

WOKE WATCH UK!

When I first heard the news that the Jerries had dropped the phrase ‘Ladies & Gentlemen’, it came as no surprise to me. I mean the Luftwaffe are well known for dropping things, usually thousands of tons of high explosives on Western Europe and the Soviet Union, and, let’s face it, they always were inclusive. I mean when they were out on a bombing spree, they didn’t fly around and around attempting to miss LGBTs. And then someone corrected me; not about the Luftwaffe and LGBTs but that it was another German company, not the Luftwaffe, that had dropped ‘Ladies & Gentlemen’. Sigh, some things never change.

Those Magnificent Gender-Neutrals in their Flying Machines

But what-a mistake-a to make-a. My sincere apologies. I am not much of a flyer. I would never have known that British Airways was anything to do with Britain if it was not written on the sides of their aircraft, and now that ‘Ladies & Gentlemen’ is about to be replaced with, what? ~  ‘Good morning LGBTs, its, others, refugees, multicults, perverts, terrorists, knee-takers, statue-removers and ‘I’ve had my vaccine’ Facebook clones etc’ ~ nor would you. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that my suggested salutation is a fair appraisal of where we are at in modern-day UK, you would not know who they are, who you are and what that thing sitting next to you is, would you? Will they include extraterrestrials?

In the words of my retired scientist friend, Martin: “It’s all so peculiar. What shall we do first, blow the satellites out of the sky or gas the sink estates?”

That is probably not the answer. But, instead of ingratiating themselves with the wrong uns, couldn’t British Airways and the other dominoes simply have replaced the no-smoking symbol with an illuminated red bar that lights up across the word WOKE as their planes prepare for take-off? Or even just edit the old signs: ‘No Smoking’ to ‘No Woking’ ~ being careful, of course, to ensure that whoever undertakes this task knows how to spell the word ‘Woking’. There’s no point in being too accurate.

Those Magnificent Gender-Neutrals in their Flying Machines

If it wasn’t so amusing, it would jerk out more tears than Gone With The Wind ~ which just about sums it up really. It’s nothing but a storm in a teacup, or should that be an airline company in a colander?

Gender-neutrals in colanders

Whilst I wait expectantly for the gender-neutral sequel of Star Trek, “to gayly go where no man thing has gone before”, previous generations of legacy English ladies and gentlemen observing our world from a better past might find consolation in the incontrovertible fact that as any street after 11 pm in any town in the UK denotes, there are very few ‘ladies & gentlemen’ left to address.  In the present twisted nature of things, we could always argue our case on the basis of minority, but there really seems little point. If we are to ‘gayly go’ at warped speed to the gender-bending place that they are so bent on sending us, why make the trip in a handcart when you can travel first class Woke. Just fasten your seat belts, extinguish political correctness and don’t forget to laugh. History certainly will.

Thank you, Ladies & Gentlemen, for reading my post.

More Jiggery Pokery Hokey Wokery

Woke Watch PC UK! Introduction
Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!
London Woke Up to Khan
Keep Woke out of Football!

Further reading {accessed 17 October 2021}:

https://www.rt.com/uk/396132-ladies-gentlemen-gender-tube/

https://www.rt.com/news/529087-lufthansa-gender-neutral-ladies-gentlemen/

https://www.rt.com/op-ed/523832-ladies-gentlemen-non-binary-pronouns/

https://www.rt.com/uk/537086-british-airways-neutral-greeting/

Image attributions:

Bomber: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Bomber-plane-vector-sign/9604.html

UK Flag Map: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/United-Kingdoms-flag-with-map/50789.html

Colander: https://freesvg.org/colander

Sun & Wind Vector Illustration: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Sun-and-wind-vector-illustration/28316.html

Copyright [Text] © 2018-2021 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Keeping Woke out of Football

Keep Woke out of Football

Is taking a knee taking the piss?

Woke Watch PC UK! {Case 3}

Published: 26 July 2021

Now, I hate football with a vengeance and always have. I have hated it for as long as I can remember and from my earliest childhood, especially at secondary school level. There was something so odiously, if not inclusively, masculine about having to interrupt your academic day by running up and down a muddy field in your silly little short shorts booting a ball about, accompanied by a gaggle of inane whoops and shouts under the kindly ministrations of a retarded bully-boy games master.

In those days wearing rainbow colours in support of all kinds of deviant practices was unheard of and, besides, had it otherwise been the case it would hardly have been encouraged. You only had to say, “I don’t like football”, to be immediately on the receiving end of ‘poof!’, ‘queer!’, ‘homo!’.

Football was a masculine game; it was all about manly men, both on and off the pitch; it was a case par excellence of male camaraderie, of muddy and sweaty male bonding but strictly of the non-rainbow kind.

So, it is not without some curiosity that we arrive in the 21st century to find that under the guise and guile of racism traditional notions of masculinity are as much under attack on and off the football pitch as they are in almost every other UK walk of life.

I take as my lead on this treatise a recent article, ‘On racism and football, it’s England vs. their fans’, published online by Politico, a media resource described by AllSides media-bias rater as ‘Left Leaning’. Don’t take a spirit level to it, you will only tax your bubble.

The article in question is one of a plethora launched amidst the media-hyped hysteria about the so-called racist behaviour of a section of the England fans during the Euro 2020 final, which took place at Wembley Stadium in London recently (I haven’t a clue when exactly, as I don’t follow football?). But let’s leave that article for the moment and cut to the chase.

Keep Woke out of Football

The politically correct storm in a liberal-left teacup is all about  ‘taking a knee’ (No, not in the groin. Don’t be silly. You all know what ‘taking a knee’ means. It’s so everywhere that it wouldn’t surprise me if Brits are not soon wearing builders’ knee pads to go with their facemask fashion accessory ~ isn’t the 21st century fun!!). Apparently, when the English team took a knee, some of the fans took to booing. At the end of the game, when England lost, allegedly certain members of the English team were subjected to racial abuse.

When Priti Patel, the Home Secretary, denounced the ‘vile racist abuse’, (I believe she was referring to the verbal offence not the act of booing) she was accused by black player Tyrone Mings of hypocrisy. Because Priti Patel had once described ‘taking a knee’ as ‘gesture politics’, and when asked if she would criticise fans who booed England players taking the knee, she had replied that it was their choice, Mings felt justified in saying “You don’t get to stoke the fire at the beginning of the tournament by labelling our anti-racism message as ‘Gesture Politics’ and then pretend to be disgusted when the very thing we’re campaigning against, happens.”

Whatever you might say about Mings’ game, joining the dots obviously isn’t it. He should stick to football, and possibly hone his skills, and Priti Patel should conduct herself in a manner befitting that of a home secretary, which is exactly what she is doing.

The problem with ‘taking a knee’ is that whilst some postulate that it as an anti-racism message, others see it as the political salute of an organisation described by The Telegraph as ‘a radical neo-Marxist political movement’. I refer, of course, to Black Lives Matter (BLM).

Patently, it is not within the remit of the British Home Secretary to endorse controversial brands.

The Politico article also alludes to Priti Patel’s refusal to endorse ‘taking a knee’ but at least has the decency to acknowledge that the reason one takes the knee is “in support of Black Lives Matter protesters”, which does not entirely dovetail with Mings’ vocalising of it as an “anti-racism message”.

The same article also offers an alternative, acceptable reason as to why some of the England supporters felt the need to boo, which is to “keep politics out of football”.

Booing for all the right reasons is not such a bad thing.

If only more people would boo for keeping politics out of wherever it is they do not belong, life might inch up a notch. We could certainly do with people standing outside our schools and booing and, if not exactly booing, demanding that we keep politics out of the UK education system, where it operates at every level subversively and with grievous intent to indoctrinate.

I booed, latently, when in the opening paragraphs of that article ‘On racism and football, it’s England vs. their fans’, I learnt for the first time that football, the game that I loved to hate, was, or was expected to be, as mixed up, convoluted and Woke-obsessed as British society itself. Why was the author of this piece rambling on about the virtuous things that some of the players did, were doing or had done when they were not booting a ball around and getting paid too much for it? It was not until I got to the bit about Jordan Henderson embracing LGBTQ+ laces and armband that the article raised a smile, a sigh of relief and a sense of where this was going. I checked the article’s attribution: aahh, ‘activist and editor at the New Socialist’ ~ mystery solved.

It would be naïve of me to suggest that LGBTQ has nothing to do with football and everything to do with people’s personal sexual proclivities, because some would Woke me up with, no it is all to do with inclusivity, others that is a gender equality message and still others a case of ‘gesture politics’, but, be this as it may, football, I would argue, is two teams of 11 men, 10 of them running around a  field in pursuit of a plastic ball and the eleventh stood there like a dummy surrounded by three metal poles.  

The Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries defines football as “a game played by two teams of 11 players, using a round ball which players kick up and down the playing field. Teams try to kick the ball into the other team’s goal”. There is nothing in this definition about sexual deviations, taking knees, knees up mother brown, or mother white, or one or other of the players giving sixpence a week from his not insubstantial salary to the local home for stray migrants ~ please send all donations to The Ritz …

Then comes the dogma and bigotry, the ironclad implication that if you do not wish to align yourself with a neo-Marxist group and believe that politics should be kept out of football then as sure as night follows day you must be far rightist. In fact, anyone who refuses to join in with the Riverdance foot-stamping and tantrum-inclined politics of the left, whether it manifests itself on the football pitch or anywhere else, can only be motivated by far-right sympathies. Like the game of football itself, you are either with us or against us, there is no middle way.

Thus, it comes as no surprise that the Politico article, as with many other on the left, links the ‘mindless violence of hooliganism with far-right sympathies’ ~ no mention here then of weeks of street rampaging, public disorder and the mindless vandalism against civic statues and Britain’s heritage that characterised the ‘mostly peaceful’ riots of BLM. You disagree? Go home and take the liberal tablet and whilst you are at it, take a knee.

WOKE WATCH UK!

Now spitting tar and feathers the Politico article navigates safely into familiar territory. Having satisfied itself that the disinclined knee-takers and stadium booers are far-right extremists, it full steams ahead up Shit Creek postulating on the way that “the far right have always preyed upon …  forgotten working-class communities”. So, who are the football fans who dare go ‘boo’, warriors of the mythical far right or working-class victims that the far right have duped? Two considerations arise from the victim statement: one, that the majority of football fans are from working-class communities, which they are; and two, yes, they have been forgotten ~ forgotten systematically over the years by the very people who egregiously pretend that they are the champions of the working-class, call them the left, call them socialists, call them new socialists, call them what you want, this putty vocalist clan have almost always one thing in common, which is that the majority of their kind are bourgeois-emulating lush-living liberals who talk the talk but do not walk the walk.

These are they who have an awful lot to say about racism and about equality in our working-class communities whilst advancing and enforcing ideological doctrines, such as globalism and mass immigration, that are tailor-made to undermine cultural identity and social stability. Globalism, mass immigration, open borders, political correctness and Wokism serve nothing but an elitist liberal club and as such are no friends of England’s working-class communities.

But take heart! All is not lost! The article goes on to suggest that the naughty element tarnishing the otherwise good behaviouralist fans appear to be suffering from that strange malady that most people tend to contract after the age of 14, anachronism: they belong to “another era” and “struggle to find a way to adapt to the modern world”.

Oh, brave new world that has such creatures innit!

What ‘modern world’ is it to which we must adapt to earn ourselves our browny points? Presumably the world of Woke, where all and everything has to be subsumed into the importance of rainbow colours and the virtue-signalling of ‘taking a knee’.

“Most of the team’s supporters have spent the last few years going through an attitude change that they should be given credit for.”

This is like saying, ‘I’ve kicked your arse, now I’ll pat your head, you good sheep you”. Such delusive nonsense might make the writer sleep better at night, but in reality, it will take a lot more condescension than that to rub out the fact that the majority of legacy Brits will never cave in, not to accepting politics in football and in any other part of their lives where politics should not be. If the English majority had wanted Wokism, they would never have voted for Brexit and the Labour party would not have collapsed in the last general election.

Oh, and if you are left wondering, so to speak, of course Brexit has been blamed for the malodorous actions of those ‘far-right’ fans! Cue a nursery full of bawlin’ babies: “We want a people’s vote!”

True to liberal or ‘new socialist’ form the tone of this article then becomes more rabid and froth foamy as it implodes towards conclusion. Brexit, as I have said, has already joined the ranks of the ‘usual suspects’, but there are a lot of other liberal-lefty hobbyhorses that are still unaccounted for. And then, just when you are asking yourself why you have not been mugged by the usual neuroticisms and enrichment blandishments, your faith in liberal bias is restored. In profusion, as if the writer is worried that he (she/it?) forgot to include them ~ and inclusivity is a very serious matter ~ comes ‘right-wing’, ‘populism’, ‘borders’, ‘immigration’, and ‘gender fluidity’ (I don’t much care for the liquid sound of that last one, do you?).

And so, we end up with what the writer no doubt believes is much of a ‘tan-ta-rar’ but is really little more than a sorry descent into cliché, that “right-wing populist politicians, including those in the government, continue to sow the seeds of division and stoke the fires of hatred”. Rather than admit that it is our socially engineered society with all its isms, virtue-signalling and Wokeness that is sowing the seeds and stoking the fires.

But now, of course, it is all going terribly wrong. The architects have the divisions for which they have been working but are perplexed and frustrated that they have gone no deeper than the thin end of the wedge and what is more disturbing for them is that as society grows more ‘populist’ the more exposed their handy work becomes.

As with all fanatical idealogues they have overestimated their own capabilities and underestimated the strength of the resistance. The days when legacy Brits could be cowed into submission by accusations of racism and other PC nonsense never really happened, at least not beyond the sold-on delusion, and as it never happened in the hey days of Tony Blair when liberals were living the dream, they might as well accept that it is never going to happen, no matter how many toys they toss from the three-wheeled liberal pram.

Time was once that football was a man’s game. The players all wore shorts that were far too long for them, had skinny legs and nobly knees. The football was a big brown lump of leather inflated by a blow-up pig’s bladder, a vegetarian’s nightmare. The players were rewarded with three and thruppence a match, and nobody fell over and cradled their leg unless they really had to. In the days of manly football the stands were full of working-class white men in long brown macs and flat caps. They did boo, even though politics was nowhere to be seen, but the only people taking a knee were players who got one accidently in the centre forwards. But still they played the game. “Come on now, play the white man!”, would come the roar from the crowds, and no one criticised because no one cared, back in those bad old real days.

Football! It has about as much appeal to me as keeping racing pigeons whilst ferreting during opening hours.

I think real socialists, the old kind, possibly loved it, but not so it would seem new socialists, as the writer of the Politico article decries football, “as a sport that has always lent itself well to toxic masculinity, a staunch ally of right-wing populism”.

What to do! What to do! Presumably the only way to deal with this ‘toxic masculinity’ is to shirt-lift it out of existence and, whilst you’re at it, for pity’s sake don’t forget to take that knee!

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

😉Woke Watch PC UK ~ An introduction to UK Woke

Image attributions:
Football: OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay (https://pixabay.com/vectors/football-ball-sport-soccer-round-157930/)
Rainbow above landscape:  Karson on Unsplash (https://unsplash.com/photos/dJJNeuQGcpc)
Silhouette of man: chandra chandra on Unsplash (https://unsplash.com/photos/ctwjcRnIU2Y)

Copyright [Text & Cat] © 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

London Woke Up to Khan

London Woke Up to Khan

London Woke Up to Khan ~ one day it might just wake up!

Woke Watch PC UK! {Case 2}

Published: 11 May 2021

On 8 May 2021, London Woke up to a new dawn of nothing new ~ another 3 years of Sadiq Khan as mayor. Another 3 years for the usual suspects to contextualise his re-election as a great day for inclusivity ~ never mind the downside!

As predicted, London, which the last national census of 2011 revealed is 55.1% non-white British (one can only imagine what it is now!) chose to ignore Khan’s abysmal record of mayoralty and instead, following their woke instinct, ticked the box next to the man under whose mayoral tenure the capital city of England has earnt itself the dubious accolade of being Stab Fest City of the World.

During Khan’s 5-year reign, serious crime in London has spiralled out of control: deaths by stabbing are at an all-time high; rape prosecutions have dwindled: nobody feels safe upon the streets anymore.

Political activists such as Laurence Fox, himself a candidate for the London mayor’s office, called upon the Metropolitan Police to ‘free up officers to police streets not tweets’, a reference to the disproportional importance that the Metropolitan Police under Khan’s stewardship seems to put on their politically correct credentials at the expense of combatting crime in the real world.

An insight into the extent of Khan’s wokeyness can be gleaned from a Spectator article headlined, ‘Revealed: the cost of Sadiq Khan’s woke army’:

“The number of staff at City Hall has swelled by 45 per cent in just four years, rising from 817 in May 2016 to 1,190 in April 2020. Among these include no less than nine staff tasked with responsibilities for inclusion, diversity and fairness – a ratio of one per 132 total employees.

“Posts include a Programme Director for Economic Fairness who earns between £70,241 and £76,029”

And if that does not convince you, The Spectator article goes on to mention Khan’s planned ‘commission for diversity in the public realm’, an exercise in pure woke that is expected to cost the taxpayer more than £1 million.

London Woke Up to Khan

Among the tasks that Khan’s commission has been charged to oversee is a review of London’s statues and street names in capitulation to the Black Lives Matter riots last year (2020). Now that really is money well spent! Apart from “Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square”, how on earth will London’s cabbies cope with all those foreign ooboogoogoo street names and disposed heritage landmarks? And what chance do we have of selling Churchill’s statue to the yanks for as much as it costs to fund a diversity manager, now that Biden has been string-pulled into office?

At least this proposed scheme goes some way to explain why the black gentleman, Shaun Bailey, the Conservative candidate for mayor of London, failed to cut the mustard, that and the £1.5 million Khan disposed of on a New Year’s Eve firework display in which he chose to illuminate London’s skyline with the paramilitary BLM emblem of the raised, clenched fist. I think the word is ‘pandering’ or is it just ‘sick’? Perhaps, when you stop to consider that this act alone provides a clue as to why violent crime in London goes unchecked, a better word would be ‘sickening’. One million quid spent on renaming streets and replacing statues is a lot to shell out to blackmailers. The money would be better spent on training and equipping a viable London riot squad or used for funding a long overdue addition to the UK’s national curriculum called Respect for the Host Country.

The BBC (which the Mail Online informs us backed Khan’s inappropriate but self-revealing firework display [Tories slam Sadiq Khan’s £1.5million New Year’s Eve light show | Daily Mail Online) tells us that “the mayor [of London] officially acts as the police and crime commissioner for London, which means the mayor has a role in setting out how London is policed and staffed.” Oh dear!

“The mayor appoints the Metropolitan Police commissioner, who is in charge of the day-to-day running of the police and holds them to account.” Oh dear! Oh dear!

“Finally, the mayor also works with different agencies and government departments to make sure London is prepared for … terror attacks.” Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!!! [London elections 2021: What can the mayor of London do? ~ BBC (accessed 9 May 2021)]

The Metropolitan Police commissioner whom Khan ‘holds to account’ is one Cressida Dick ~ she must have had a hard time of it when she was at school, but then she became a police officer.

So, London has an Asian mayor and a female Metropolitan Police commissioner called Cressida Dick ~ and you and I wonder why mean tweeters are more at risk of being brought to book than serious street crims. Although, in case you need to know, the Stay Out of Jail Free card for mean tweeters is liberal affiliation and espousing liberal causes. No matter what you say or how you say it, you are guaranteed immunity.

When you read that the role of London mayor has the largest personal mandate of any politician in the UK and that Khan is the recipient, that is scary stuff indeed. But, before we write the UK off completely, let us not forget that London is a state within a state, a woke liberal enclave surrounded by a far greater real British population than the one that has yet to evacuate London, and that this same majority living in the provinces excommunicated London many decades ago. I suppose the day will finally come when we can leave multicultural London to its renamed streets and statues of a different hue and simply move the seat of government somewhere else ~ like Scunthorpe, for example ~ then campaign for LEXIT, set up a hard border and encircle it with a moat.

Whatever our opinion is of Mr Khan and his mayoral iniquities, we must concede that his re-election is merely grist to the woke mill. Laurence Fox, actor, political activist, victim of wokism and a mayoral candidate, never believed he would oust Khan in the London election for mayor, but by standing against Khan in the knowledge that he never represented a serious threat to Khan’s fifedom let alone pull his mayoral chain and flush him away, he effectively proved his point, that London is unequivocally the UK’s ‘Cathedral of Woke’. And there, as they say, you have it.

The beauty of living in a democracy (the UK’s kind of democracy) is that whilst you hardly ever get what you want, you often get what you deserve. So, let that be a lesson to you, London! Pass the vest and let’s all hold hands …

A T-shirt featuring the mayor and police commissioner hugging, with the emblematic BLM fist superimposed on the back, can be purchased from The Commission for Diverting Your Attention in the Public Realm, Blackhall, West Monrassa SW1A (turn hard and extreme left at Churchill’s empty statue plinth). Also on sale, 2021 mayoralty stab vests and candle-lit vigil kits, plus the Handbook on Mean Tweets ~ how to be liberal and avoid conviction.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

😉Woke Watch PC UK ~ An introduction to UK Woke

Copyright © 2018-2021 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

Woke Watch PC UK [Case 1]

Published: 6 April 2021

Preamble

This series of posts is devoted to identifying, tracking and reporting on instances of politically correct oppression in the UK, which have become so prevalent and stultifying in recent years that they have morphed into an erosive sub-culture, ironically characterised by self-righteous victimhood and a postured drive for equality. This is the culture of ‘Woke’.

Stymieing free speech and closing down discussion, liberal elements exploit the false altruism implanted in this credo for the prosecution and inverted moral enforcement of a neo-Marxist creed.

Assisted not a little by an ideological media sympathetic to their agenda, the hyper-reaction and sheer volume of publicity devoted to issues of race, gender and other liberal hobby horses has discredited the perpetrators and exposed their agenda. It has also caught them in a trap of their own making, the term ‘Woke’ ~ their term ~ presented originally as a victim’s cry for social and racial justice now widely used to identify over-zealous practitioners and self-proclaimed arbitrators of ‘correct thought’ as defined by neoliberal PC elites.

There is a limit to which even the most tolerant people of the most tolerant country (reference Sewell report) can remain tolerant to daily intolerance and at last legacy Britons appear to have reached that point:

Stay aWoke to the Wokes folks!

If, in a wild and distorted dream or a state of unpardonable and gross inebriation you have even vaguely considered that the ‘liberal way’ could be progressively good for your country ~ or, for that matter, remotely good ~ let these posts serve as a moral reminder:  Be careful what you wish for!

Woke Watch PC UK!

In my introductory post to this series, Woke Watch PC UK, I referred briefly to that recent sorry state of affairs at Pimlico Academy London, where children, jumping on the protest bandwagon, were allowed and encouraged to lambast their headteacher and dictate school policy. 

The Pimlico Academy circus and the liberal media’s reaction to the Sewell report on racial disparity are perfect examples of the fostered permeation of a woke cult within the UK and the extent to which this virus is cultivated and used as a mind-altering, psychological weapon in our schools. From the government’s reluctance (some have referred to it as ‘moral cowardice’) to institute robust measures to combat the virulence, hope for an effective vaccine grows less and less credible as each day passes. Unchallenged, systemic wokeness is a source of global embarrassment to the UK in the disproportionate media and political space it occupies to the detriment of real issues, such as unsafe streets and spiralling crime, but is at the very least redeemable in its entertainment value.

My attention was first drawn to this farcical piece of nonsense, re Pimlico Academy, when I stumbled upon a report in that most august of intellectual online dispensaries, the Mirror.

Headlined, “Pimlico Academy: Angry pupils stage mass walk-out at school’s ‘racist’ uniform policy”, with the standfirst, “Students and staff are furious over a strict new uniform policy at Pimlico Academy in Westminster, central London, and changes to the secondary school’s history curriculum”, the article immediately set the sirens wailing: ‘Woke! Woke! Woke!’.

From the safety of my anti-PC bunker, not having been enriched for some time now, I read on, hardly able to contain my amusement. According to the report, some angry children were having a tantrum in the school playground (for those of you who are not from the UK, an ‘academy’ is a posh-sounding name for a school; a tantrum is a ‘peaceful demonstration’). ‘We want change’, they shouted. I could hear an echo bouncing back at them from somewhere in Britain’s glorious past, “Don’t we all!” it was saying.

The change that they wanted was not for the drinks machine. They were ~ shall we use a ‘peaceful demonstration’ word? ~ ‘outraged’.

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

It may defy belief if you come from a non-PC-crazed background, but in the wonky land of Woke, anybody and anything can be denounced as racist at any time, and somebody with a lot more time on their hands than most of us, but not a great deal of intelligence, had denounced Pimlico’s school uniform as racist. The school uniform was wacist (that’s a cross between woke and racist) because it discriminated against hijabs and hairstyles. The school pupils were also incensed that the school curriculum was not paying enough attention to the antics of Black Lives Matter and were demanding that more time be devoted to Black History Month, like, er, Black History Two Months or preferably 13 months of the year. Durrgh…

The Mirror published extracts from the children’s online post, which, incorporating such terms as ‘protect marginalised races [and] religions’, ‘discriminating against’ and ‘challenging identity’, shows that if they learn nothing else in today’s progressive liberal schools, children are at least well versed in the parrot language of Woke.

Some went on to excel themselves by taking up the cudgel for the gender disadvantaged. And you have to hand it to them, they had really done their homework on the PC prose of choice:

“We believe the idea of gendered uniform for all students is a ridiculous, backwards ideal. This ostracises non-binary and gender non-conforming students, or those who are struggling with their gender identity.”

I really, really do wish that I had been armed with this load of old cod’s wallop when I was at school. In those days, if you did not present in the full and prescribed uniform by the time you had chanted ‘we want change’, you could be guaranteed to have got it, initiated by a swift, stout kick up the arse. The change being a bruise where you did not have one before.

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

Whilst some of Pimlico’s school children were writing online statements, others, true to form, were defacing the school walls with graffiti. Some future university student daubed:

“Headmaster Smith should get the sack.”

And why on earth shouldn’t he, with a name like that!

The Mirror goes on to report that, “the Guardian reported that the school was facing mass staff resignations, a student protest and a vote of no confidence in its headteacher.”

It almost sounds like ‘Hooray’?

Mr Smith is a white headmaster and therefore it goes without saying that he should either resign or apologise, or preferably both! ~ be sent to Devil’s Island, somewhere in the Caribbean or Lambeth, and never again be permitted to hold office.

Apparently, the academy’s staff is in such a PC tizz about it all that many of the poor darlings are thinking of quitting their job.

Helpful school caretaker: “Allow me, I’ll open the door for you!”

And it is reported that the entire geography department handed in their notice, presumably because they failed to identify that the country where they live and work is Britain. Mind you, it is not that easy to tell these days, is it, not even for a geography teacher?

Now, I am not sure whether you will appreciate the woke irony inherent in this next quote from the Mirror, but take your time (clue, think of BLM and statues and political allegiances).

“Former Pimlico Academy pupil Liza Begum, Labour’s candidate for the upcoming Churchill ward councillor by-election, visited the protest.”

Well, she would, wouldn’t she!

According to the Mirror, she was proud of the students, adding, ‘it [the protest] was a peaceful event’.

As all such demonstrations, especially BLM demonstrations, are ~ children …

One mother complained that the pupils are not listened to and feel ‘frustrated and disempowered’ (Congratulations, now you know what most teachers feel every day of their lives.) And wanted to know what this would do for them [the kids] when they left school? The answer being, a great deal of good, I suppose, because in the real world, the world outside of school, getting your own way by staging a tantrum, even if the liberal media patronises it as ‘peaceful’, is not something that Bet Fred is likely to give you very good odds on.

Now, I have intentionally left the best for last, which is that after ticking all the essentials on the woke checklist, as ticked by the children at Pimlico Academy, having been primed to do so by their liberal masters …

  • Racism
  • Discrimination
  • Gender issues
  • Identity
  • Challenged self-esteem
  • White man headmaster

… the ultimate demand from the Pimlico children was that the school remove the Union Jack. And, yes, you have got it in one, of course the school capitulated.

Think about it. An institution whose purpose it is not only to educate the young in the academic sense but is also charged with the responsibility of inculcating them with an appreciation of the values and morals of society to help them to integrate into that society, takes down the nation’s flag, having been ordered to do so by a gaggle of school children not yet worldly wise enough to know the fundamental difference between their arses and their elbows. Still, I suppose it was an improvement on last September, when Britain’s future hauled the flag down and burnt it. To quote Del Amitri:

“And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before … “

The least you would expect is that the entire history department of Pimlico Academy would hand in their resignation, hop into the nearest TARDIS, shoot off back in time and warn Great Britain of what will become of it in the 21st century unless it takes a firmer grip. What a mess!

The ethnic composition of the child protestors which led to the peremptory and pitiful removal of the nation’s flag is not immediately apparent. A closer look at the photos and videos that covered the playground huff would be interesting from a sociological viewpoint if nothing else, as it would help to ascertain the ratio of children indoctrinated by liberal left mantras in relation to those exploiting them to further an agenda.

Incidentally, did you ever see that wonderful old black and white (cough) film Passport to Pimlico? It was all very different then, wasn’t it, although the title of that film could well have been a presentiment. All the same, should a remake be made today, the film would have to retain its original title since Pimlico is land-locked, so something along the lines of Small Boat to Pimlico would hardly be believable ~ but then again, what is?

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

At the end of a wrong day, whether your verdict is woke tsunami or merely a storm in a piss pot, that the Pimlico spat was set against the backdrop of the frenzied reception to the Sewell report on racial disparity speaks volumes about the wider malaise in the land of the Woke and Wonderless.

This ‘landmark adjudication’, the Sewell report, is, of course, covered extensively by the liberal press. The Guardian, for example, asks in one of their earlier articles, before the tone becomes predictably rabid, ‘Did the government’s response to the Black Lives Matter protests measure up? A panel of writers responds’. And the answer, from the liberal perspective is, as we know, of course it didn’t. Whilst some people could be forgiven for equating inadequate response with lack of robust policing, I am not saying anything about this article. Find it, read the names of the contributors, see their panels and photographs, read what they have to say and judge for yourselves.

I cannot quite make up my mind, from a purely woke position, whether the liberal faction so seemingly incensed by the Sewell report’s conclusion that the UK is one of the most racially tolerant countries in the world, would have been infinitely more disappointed had the report returned what they presumed it must do following what they conceived to be an intimidation victory by the BLM riots, namely that the UK is racist to its core and that penance by those responsible can never be paid in full, as there is not enough guilt in Woke land for reparation to replace agenda.

Such Woke expressions of virtue-signalled anger are surely just for the record ~ the broken record. Without doubt, the Sewell report has handed to those who have nothing better to do than to delude themselves into believing that making banners and running amok in the streets will change anything, a golden opportunity: summer is on the way, time to get those hoodies on and crank up the ‘peaceful protesting’! And if it all gets sordid and nasty, then not only is there the old excuse to fall back on, that the police response was ‘neither appropriate nor proportionate’ (from the rehearsed script of Mr Mayor Khan) there is the Sewell report as well. “Ooooh, it made me so angry! I just had to make a banner and go and deface a statue. Er, how do you spell ‘discriminate’?”

Woke me up when it’s all over, yawn …

Here are some later headlines from the balanced liberal press on the Sewell report:

The Sewell report on racial disparity is an attempt to erase progress and sow division [Guardian]

Comment: This assumes that the path to progress must be defined as a never-ending cycle of recrimination, apology and appeasement

The poisonously patronising Sewell report is historically illiterate [Guardian]

Comment: Tantrum time

Race report: Was controversy part of the plan? [BBC]

Comment: You should know. It’s what you do best … but not so well as you did, or everyone would still be paying their license fee

Let’s hope that these headlines were not run after the watershed viewing time for children ~ there’s bound to be tears before bedtime ..

S😉😉EE Woke Watch PC UK!

Reclaiming Freedom in the UK, with Laurence Fox (Uncommon Knowledge interview with Peter Robinson)

Copyright © 2018-2021 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Woke Watch PC UK!

Introduction

Published: 2 April 2021

Liberals are upset. The word ‘woke’, originally enlisted into the English language as a weapon to further their ideological aims and bulwark their arsenal of victimhood, has fallen into enemy hands. It seems that ‘white privileged males’, ‘populists’ and even a man who gets paid to be rabid on television, have wrested the weapon from the hand of the mugger. They, along with millions of legacy Britons like them, are turning it to their own advantage in an existential struggle to preserve country, culture, heritage, home and history.

In this series of posts, I will update you from time to time on the wokey pokery that, having been brought to the surface and accelerated by such a monumental political event as Brexit, threatens to undermine, destroy and eclipse what, less than a century ago, was one of the greatest nations on Earth but which now, regrettably, as a result of social engineering and state-sponsored sell out, is little more than Pandora’s Box in a carnival hall of mirrors.

If, in a wild and distorted dream or a state of unpardonable and gross inebriation you have even vaguely considered that the ‘liberal way’ could be progressively good for your country ~ or, for that matter, remotely good ~ let these posts serve as a moral reminder:  Be careful what you wish for!

The Strange Woke Case of the White Privileged Male

The liberal left like nothing better than to label anyone who does not obsequiously and unquestionably conform to what Piers Morgan has described as their ‘PC-crazed world view’. Case in point:

For the first time in months coronavirus slips from its number one place in the British media slot and is immediately replaced by lamentable laments about race. It wasn’t April Fools Day when I read about the liberal media’s reaction to the Sewell report on racial disparity and caught sight of the shockless, but none the less discouraging, headline, “Pimlico Academy: Angry pupils stage mass walk-out at school’s ‘racist’ uniform policy”, but it ought to have been, at least then it might have all made sense … a little sense … some sense … no?

On the same day, 31st March, it was refreshing to see something infinitely less predictable than a load of liberals all crying collectively into the same obsessive snotrag. It was the actor, political activist and leader of the Reclaim Party, Laurence Fox, the High Priest of Anti-Woke, whizzing across London in a traditional, red, open-topped double-decker bus, launching, in an applaudably British way, his London mayoral election campaign against that really nice Asian man, the Woke’s mayor of choice, Mr Sadiq Khan BLM, EU, AGENDA.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Mr Fox, probably best known for his co-starring role in the TV detective series Lewis, entered the political arena after he fell foul of anti-freedom of speech liberals and the predominantly liberal-virulent Twitterati mob for responding to a mixed-race university lecturer during the BBC’s Question Time who accused him of being ‘a white privileged male’. Such an accusation, he said, was racism.

Following the broadcast, the actors’ union, Equity, which is not at all institutionally Woke, called on other actors to denounce him. As a ‘white privileged male’, he had obviously overstretched himself. Racism, as we know, is a one-way street ~ or so they would have us believe. My only regret is that I missed the headline: ‘White Privileged Male Blacklisted’.

I am sure you will agree that there is absolutely no excuse for being a ‘white privileged male’. If you have the misfortune of being one, let it be a lesson to you. You should have chosen the race of your parents more carefully and ensured that both were on the dole. You should also sue them for not consulting you on your gender preferences before they had the temerity to consider giving birth to you.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Piers Morgan, formerly of Good Morning Britain (yes, that’s him, nice, quiet man, never got a bad word to say about anybody), himself since hounded by the same crazed hypocrites as Laurence Fox, Tweeted on Twatter:

“Laurence Fox hounded off Twitter for daring to challenge the virtue-signalling mob. The repulsive abuse & threats these shameless ‘liberal’ (*illiberal) hypocrites spew out on here to anyone who refuses to sign up to their PC-crazed world view is disgraceful ~ [Feb 24, 2020]”

Piers Morgan ‘lost’ his job at Good Morning Britain “because I chose not to apologise for disbelieving Meghan Markle’s claims in her interview with Oprah Winfrey. I thus became the latest ‘victim’ of the cancel culture that is permeating our country, every minute, of every hour, of everyday. Though of course, I consider myself to be neither a victim, nor actually cancelled.” [https://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/tv/piers-morgan-addresses-lost-job-20113944 [accessed 31 March 2021] ]

News on the grapevine has it that Mr Morgan, true to his beliefs, has not been ‘cancelled’. He is about to be reinstated (so he tells us), which is something that Laurence Fox has yet to experience.

Woke Up UK!

😉Next post: Pimlico Academy ‘protest’ and the Sewell report ~ one an exercise in wokeness, the other an exercise in futility

Further reading:
Land of Wokes & Snowflakes
25 Reasonable Excuses for Leaving the UK
Katie Hopkins Life After Twitter
Harry & Meghan: The Sad Case of Deja Vu

Copyright © 2018-2021 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

25 Reasonable Excuses for Leaving the UK man running scared

25 Reasonable Excuses for Leaving the UK

You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!’

Published: 26 March 2021 ~ 25 Reasonable Excuses for Leaving the UK

You might not believe the BBC, and that is all to your credit, but, as sensible as it sounds, the UK government has indeed ruled as part of its battle against freedom, sorry, I meant to say coronavirus, that any Brit who attempts to flee the Blighted Kingdom could face a fine of £5000.

“This new measure has absolutely nothing to do whatsoever with forcing Britons, and those who call themselves British, to holiday in appalling places like Hunstanton or Skegness, and is not affiliated in any way to the Have a Gay Holiday in Brighton scheme,” said William Butlins, Minister without portfolio but with a family ticket for the Costa del Sol, Wokesperson for the Kickstart Domestic Tourism Campaign.

The ban on people leaving the UK in search of sun, solace and sanity is what one man on a bicycle in Northamptonshire said was a ‘one way street’. He said a lot more, but we could not publish that for fear of the Free Speech Watchdog ~ who lives in the UK and barks in seven different languages, except English. What he meant by ‘one way street’ is that nobody is allowed out but people from everywhere else in the universe are allowed in, especially on small boats that come bobbing daily into Dover. Well, that’s alright then.

However, every cloud has a silver lining, except for the one called Biden’s Agenda, and that has a globalist golden one (incidentally, that is also a ‘one way street’). In the case of being forced to remain in the UK (which serves illegal immigrants right! Be careful what you wish for!) the proviso is that as long you have a ‘reasonable excuse’ you can be released on bail.

For those of you who have not downsized recently and therefore cannot afford, or do not qualify for government assistance, to pay for legal advice, here is a checklist of ‘reasonable excuses’ for  leaving the UK.

25 Reasonable Excuses for Leaving the UK

1. Immigration

2.  Coronavirus

3. Police State Coronavirus Restrictions

4. You don’t like Boris’s hairstyle

5. You like Matt Hancock’s hairstyle (what there is of it) but you don’t like Matt Hancock

6. You have no intention, now or ever, of paying your BBC protection racket license.

7. You want to go to a country where statues feel safe and heritage is valued

8. You really cannot prefix every statement you make with “I’m not racist, but …” anymore

9. The adverts on the telly do not reflect what it is really like to live in Britain (Thank Heavens!)

10. Political correctness

11. You want to go to a country where they are proud of the nation state

12. You want to go somewhere where you feel that your children are safe

13. You need to see a neck specialist as you cannot turn your head the other way and ignore anti-social behaviour any longer

14. You are frightened that if you write something on social media in the interests of your children’s future, you might be arrested for inciting the truth

15. Now that you have posted proudly “Yippee, I have had my vax,” and changed your Facebook avatar with some pretty rainbow colours, you feel such a prick that you are still locked down in your home

16. As a ‘first in and out of the queue’ early coronavirus panic buyer, you feel the need to travel abroad and stock up on more shite paper

17. You have run out of bog paper and feel embarrassed as the neighbours saw you fill the front room with rolls and instead of not paying your BBC license fee you’ve watched what they broadcast and used it all up as a result

18. I am an escapologist

19. You’ve experienced claustrophobia for the past 12 months, now you’d like to give agoraphobia a try (The UK establishment has given you plenty of aggrophobia!).

20. I want to go so you won’t let me back in

21. Just because you want to control me does not mean that I am going to make it easy for you

22. I am looking for the truth, and I know I won’t find it here

23. I was a liberal, but now I have learnt to see and think for myself

Someone did try using ‘I have grown allergic to the sound of sheep!’ but as a reasonable excuse, it was struck down for failing to register on the Fauci-controlled Baa-ometer.

On reading the 23 valid reasons for leaving the UK, one liberal remainer, who did  not want to remain anonymous because he/she/it is an overpaid, untalented celeb with delusions of political grandeur, sneered venomously (well, they do, don’t they!) “It serves them right [It having nothing, of course, to do with gender]. Those who voted for Brexit wanted out of Europe so why should they be let back in!” And then she went straight back to her mum’s house to make a banner for this summer’s BLM riot ~ another reasonable excuse for wanting to leave the country.

So, 2021 promises to be not so much the summer of discontent as spending the summer in a clapped old tent, in your own back garden if you have one and in nobody else’s if they have one and you don’t, six feet apart from one another, wearing a mask, waiting for your 131st vaccination against alleged mutated strains of a similar number and counting your antibodies to see if you have enough to get you into the pub.

And the last two reasonable excuses for wanting to leave the UK are?

24. I want to send the UK establishment and it’s sheeples a postcard. “Hello Boris et al, I am having a lovely time in the real world. Sun, sand, sea good weather, wonderful bars and restaurants. You can take your lockdowns, masks, social distancing, never-ending vaccines, antibody tests, and pub vaccine passports and stick them up your a!*e! We would like to say, wish you were here, but we’re rather glad that you’re not! And, after all, without a ‘reasonable excuse’, you couldn’t be if you wanted to.

And finally, number 25, the most reasonable excuse that anybody could give for wanting to leave the UK:

“Give me one good reason for wanting to stay?!”

Feature image attribution ~ Scary shadow: https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=281804&picture=man-scared

The Coronavirus Files:

Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer
The Great Re-set, Answer or Suspicious Coincidence
Clueless! World Health Game

Copyright © [text] 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer

Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer

Sorting the Pricks from the Prickless

Preamble

An ex-colleague of mine, whom I have not heard from since his wife became a diversity manager, submitted this essay to me, ‘Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer, saying, “I think you should put this on your blog.” At first, I thought it might be something from The Guardian, so naturally I ignored it. But curiosity, not being the sole province of our cat, Ginger, mugged and got the better of me. Two paragraphs in and I was thinking, “Hmmm, this is rum stuff.” So, I did what I always do in times of trouble (they would make good lyrics for a song), I contacted my old friend Lord Wollocks.

“Ha!” he snorted, having read it in less time than it takes to enter Britain illegally, “You know what you can do with this …”

“Wollocks!” I reproved.

“Put it on your blog,” he continued. “Heaven knows, I, and most of my class, come from a long line of pricks. Take my second cousin, The Duke of Megan Merkel, at last removed …”

I got the point. At that moment, our next-door neighbour’s boy, Little Tommy Goodsense, who had been eagerly listening to my conversation from behind the Truth, chipped in, “Mr Rart …”

He’s got a bit of a lisp, bless him, and cannot pronounce his ‘Hs’. When he says WHO, he usually says ‘WO!’ ~ he’s an intelligent child.

“Mr Rart. If it says ‘Freedom of Speech’ on the can, then it should do as it says. Just because they say that Freedom should wear a muzzle does not mean that Covid masks really work.”

“They, Tommy, Who are They?”

But before he could answer, Tommy had seen the light and had quickly emigrated, taking his Noddy books with him.

I realised, of course, what it was that my ex-colleague was getting at in writing and sending me this post. He knew that I was contemplating having it done to me later this year. He knew, in other words, that I was a potential prick, and like the British education system he was out to take advantage of me.

“I’ll show him!” I thought. “I’ll post his manifesto and let that be a lesson to him!”

Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer: Chapter (& Verse)

The race to see which country would develop the vaccine first is over; now it is the race to see how many will get the prick in each country and which country can claim that theirs is the first to be full of pricks.

Dr Force-It, whose name is synonymous with prick, vows that all Americans will be pricks by the summer of 2021 and mumbled something about ‘open season on something’, which will make anti-vaxxers think twice before bending over indiscriminately. If all goes according to plan (but whose plan is it?), even if some Americans do insist on remaining prick-free, herd immunity could be achieved by late summer: ‘baa, baa’.

Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer

In order for us to understand how well their plan is working, we are indebted to Big Pharma for providing us with the world’s first Prickometer, a cunning tracking device sponsored by the NWO (New World Order), which will please some and confirm the suspicions of others. Already the Prickometer shows that in most European countries pro-pricks are on course for a majority, but what does this mean for the prick-resistors?

Some of us flew to the UK to find out, where we were forced to stay in hotels for two weeks costing us almost two thousand quid a person or be promptly sent to prison. The rest of us travelled by small boats and inflatable dinghies across the English Channel, were bussed to five-star hotels, and each offered a free prick along with British citizenship. We turned the latter down on the grounds that it might affect our benefits.

Whilst we discovered that the Prickometer was a useful tool for persuading the majority to continue to be the majority, its big carrot has been let down by its even bigger stick, which, although it rhymes with prick, is seen by some as a back-passage way of enforcing mandatory pricks. We refer here to the controversial Prick Passports, which Hatty Mancock has refused to rule out, but which prick-resistors feel will soon be used to shaft them.

But what does this mean exactly for society at large, or rather, before total lockdown, the society that used to be at large?

It means that pricks with Prick Passports will be allowed to roam the globe at will (no change there then!) whilst conspiracy theorists and those without a prick will have to content themselves with sneaking out in the dead of night for illicit trips to Skegness or bumming around in Brighton.

Opponents to the scheme worry that once Prick Passports are introduced, it will pave the way for including them for pubs, clubs, restaurants, museums, art galleries, various regions of the UK and hopefully McBidens, in which case the best that prick-resistors can hope for will be to sit at home doing distance holidays on the liberal-left censored internet.

Whilst some are determined to avoid a prick at any cost, others are crying out for one. Take this woman from Scunthorpe (she wished someone would) Mrs Northgob, who having received her first prick free, courtesy of Big Farmer (blast Gates and his spell checker!)  went on to equip herself with several different identities: she just could not get enough pricks! And can you blame her? With so many to choose from, Big Pharma has ensured that one-size-fits-all is simply not an option.

But sailoring is not as plain as first it might appear.

A spokes-it for the UK Outrage Industry claims that every ethnic minority no longer under the sun, because they are all living in Britain, are victims of prick discrimination. They are disproportionately short on pricks.

“Give them an inch and they’ll take a yard,” sneered someone who was feeling particularly inadequate ~ he was waiting for Labour to make a come-back.

Leroy, currently doing a 10-inch stretch for procuring illegal pricks, said that it was simply a case of supply and demand, m’lud, and if white bois won’t help white chicks, it might be a dirty job, but someone had to do it!

An International Commission of Inquiry, costing the tax-payer millions, has been convened to look into allegations that the ‘Parades R Us’ community were short of pricks, hadn’t had a prick in months, wouldn’t know what a prick was even if it was offered to them, had had more than their fair share of pricks or could not decide whether they wanted one or not.

Alice Quimby, spokes-something or other for the dating agency Snatch, said that she was personally chuffed that none of her members were prick-oriented. She boasted that they had it licked, the system, that is, and then, just before she got the hump, she adjusted her strap-on ~ seatbelt ~ and before driving off on speed added that her friend Dilis de’ Doe had summed it up in a nuthouse when she said the whole world had gone arse about face.

Terry Twinky, owner of Tinker Tailors the Men’s Infitters (Alterations Made, Shirts Lifted), took umbridge at our suggestion that some of his lads considered themselves above pricks, whilst others in his sister company, sometimes referred to as his sissies’ company, Fudge Packers UK, downed tools and aprons at the mere mention of having a prick.

“I’ll have you know,” he hissed, “that my members have bent over backwards to meet the demands of this government and what have we got for it? Nothing! It was never like this when Jeremy Thorpe was in power!” Upon which, telling us in no uncertain terms that he would not bandy his wotsits and mince his words with us, he turned the other cheek, and walked away like the words he would not say.

Meanwhile on the streets of London, there have not been riots. According to the Indefensible, peaceful pro-prickers who were simply having a nice day out showing off the new banners they had made whilst living with their mums and claiming benefits, had been provoked by right-wing statues and anything vaguely phallus-like. Heckled by Far Right, White Supremacist, Nazis, disguised as two old ladies chanting ‘No more Pricks’, and then sighing loudly, the largely peaceful protest descended into a mild anti-Christ of all riots, about which Theresa May later opined it was ‘highly likely that the Russians dun it’.

Nelson (certainly not Persondella) was the first to get it in the neck ~ or somewhere.

An innocent bystander, who was later jailed for 5 years because it was discovered that he had once voted UKIP, said that he was “horrified”. “One minute, Nelson had been up there, proud and erect on his column, and the next he was sent crashing to the ground. In the ensuing impact, Nelson’s coat tails whipped up and what happened next was just too shocking to report … “

A man named Hardy (I think that’s how you spell it?), said “It Woke mine up!” He is now helping police with their inquiries ~ into people saying mean things on Twitter whilst terrorists roam the streets.

The only other witness, Churchill’s statue, was unavailable for comment since he had been boxed up and moved for his own protection and what had replaced him hadn’t got the intelligence to understand the question.

It was reported in The Gonadstan that the suggestion that the extreme left group Anti-Prick had fomented the violence was baseless, not least because the British establishment, which most likely funds and supports it, denies its very existence. The Gonadstan went on to say that pro-prick supporters had been provoked by something which Nigel Farage was doing, which was sitting outside a public house drinking a pint of beer whilst wearing his tweed cap, looking far too British for his own good and anyone up from Dover.

The British government, its well-paid advisers and members of the shadowy government, unassisted by the House of Frauds, immediately did one: they consulted the Prickometer.

But can the Prickometer help? The answer is no. There is little chance that Nigel Farage will suddenly vote liberal.

So, what does the Prickometer tell us? Well, the Prickometer tells us how many pricks there are per 100 population, the total number of pricks in any one country, the percentage of population that has had at least one prick and those that enjoyed it so much that they have gone back for another and then changed their Facebook avatar to something under a rainbow and had an orgasm. In short, the Prickometer is a reliable source of which countries are swallowing the official coronavirus narrative and which countries are a head ~ according to our expert Dick ~ of other countries in boasting more pricks than others.

In short, the Prickometer tells us that never before in the history of the world have there been so many pricks.

“Never before in the history of the world has so many pricks been administered by the machinations of the few” ~ Sir Wokeston Chapelhill

WHO SAID THAT!!! DOWN WITH HIS … STATUE!

Note: We have had to substitute ‘prick’ for ‘jab’ as ‘jab’ is the registered trademark of World Exploitation Inc.

Something for the World’s End, Sir!
UK Lockdown New Board Game
Exit Strategy Board Game
Clueless World Health Game

Image credit: Blidfolded dart player:
Openclipart
https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Blindfolded-darts-player/68889.html

Image credit: Shoe banging tantrum
http://clipart-library.com/clipart/362082.htm

Copyright © 2018-2021 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Kaliningrad Church on a winter's day

It Always Snows in Russia!

… and sometimes it doesn’t

Published: 22 January 2021 ~ It always snows in Russia

Before moving here, whenever I mentioned to a fellow Brit that I was visiting Kaliningrad, I would be asked, “Where’s that?” As soon as I had educated them geographically, among the predictable responses based on prejudice and cliché, an old stalwart was, “Russa! Brrr, it’s cold out there …”

Try as I might to explain to them that since Kaliningrad was the westernmost point of Russia the climate was not that much different to the UK’s, the stock images of frozen rivers, ushanka hats, voluminous fur coats and, of course, snow ~ lots and lots of snow ~ proved impossible to shovel away.

It always snows in Russia!

When I first came to Kaliningrad in winter 2000, there was snow, and lots of it (see Kaliningrad First Impression), and I do recall seeing a tower-mounted digital thermometer somewhere in the city giving a temperature reading of minus 27 degrees. Harbouring the same stereotypical notions of Russia’s salient attributes, this first encounter pleased me no end, providing me with photographic evidence to confirm what Brits had always known, that Russia was cold and that it snowed a lot.

There was more snow to Russify my experience when I travelled to Kaliningrad in 2002. We entered the exclave via Lithuania, where it was also snowing heavily, and the journey by train across the snow-bound wastelands was all that the heart could desire.

This stereotype was to melt away, however, in the winter of 2004. This was the year that a new-found friend of ours looking for adventure and a woman, decided to accompany us on our Christmas trip to Kaliningrad. He knew that it was cold (it’s cold out there in Russia), and his knowledge had been bolstered by the tales that I had told and the photographs that I had shown him. He was excited, and set about preparing himself for Siberia, buying up large stocks of woolies, U.S. military surplus coats and the all-important long johns. His suitcases were fat and heavy.

Who said that it always snows in Russia?

Not disappointed, in the first three days of our arriving in Kaliningrad, the temperature had dropped well below those in the England we had left and, more importantly, there was snow, lots of swirling snow. And then, quiet suddenly, the mercury shot up the thermometer tube, the snow melted, the rain came, and it stayed that way for a month. As I believe I have said before, there is a world of difference between Kaliningrad in the winter rain and Kaliningrad in the snow. Those who live here will know what I mean.

Last year, winter 2019-2020, was like everything else that year, miserable. It was, literally, wishy washy: a winter of muck and puddles.

So, how refreshing this winter to see some snow. It has not been that heavy, but it has been persistent and cold enough for successive falls to settle and to transform the city and regional landscape into a childhood memory of how winters used to be.

Oh, but it’s alright for me, or so my critics tell me. I don’t have to go anywhere. I don’t have to scrape the ice and snow off the car in the morning and then brave the roads on my way to work. On the contrary, I can sit at home, look out of the window and admire the Christmas-card view. And they are right. But I am unrepentant and remain that way. There have to be some advantages in getting starry, and this is one of the few.

Come rain, snow, hail or shine my wife goes out whatever, and this is as it should be. Someone has to do the shopping. And she also has to obtain those much-needed photos for Arsebook, which I can then requisition and use here for my blog.

Russia! It always snow there!

To bring things up to date, for the past several days or more it has been snowing lightly, and today, at the time of writing, it was at it again. Temperatures are low enough to ensure that what comes down stays put; just enough for picturesque, but not enough for concern.

This morning, the scene at the back of the house through the patio door was wonderful. It had snowed quite a lot during the night and the rooftops of the old German houses all had snow on them, some in total, some in places, and the fruit trees had become crystalline, petrified, the smaller branches and twigs very nearly pure white and the trunks and boughs though not completely covered with snow were artistically contrasted by what had collected upon them.

Our pear tree was the most wonderous thing. One side of the trunk was peppered with a white drift of snow and the rest, the smaller branches and twigs, coated into nobly clumps, so that taken as a whole it resembled a giant cauliflower. The rest of the garden had all but disappeared, replaced by a smooth white plateau, except for the Buddha, and he was wearing a snow-white hat in the unmistakeable shape of a British policeman’s helmet. Wherever did he get it from?

Kaliningrad Buddha wearing a snow hat. It always snows in Russia!
No he is not a silly Buddha!

Later, as I was stood in the kitchen making a cup of tea, my eyes caught movement and lots of it through the gap between two houses, which for most of the year is obscured by leaves and foliage. All I could see was different coloured objects darting hither and thither, and then it dawned on me that without the obstructing verdure the small park across the road was visible and what I was witnessing was the congregation of numerous families, mothers with their children, and that the different coloured objects, some zipping across the plateau and others sailing down the banks from every conceivable angle, were children on their sledges.

Children sledging. It always snows in Russia!
Children on sledges, Kaliningrad, Russia, January 2021

Olga, who walked through the city centre yesterday, said how delightful it was to see children with their parents playing snowballs and whooshing about on sledges. It was a good old-fashioned traditional family sight, and it reminded her of her youth. It reminded me of mine as well. Whenever there was snow, which became less and less frequent in England as the years rolled by, we children would hammer each other with snowballs. We also had a sledge, a one-of-its-kind made from the light alloy parts of a scrapped Flying Fortress, a B17 bomber, salvaged from Polebrook’s United States’ wartime aerodrome. What happened to this culturally interesting and nowadays valuable item? One of my brothers, with considerably less acumen than myself for the singularity of historical artefacts, deciding that he would clean out one of the family barns after a forty-year hiatus, skipped the sledge and kept the junk. Oh, don’t worry, we take every opportunity to remind him of his folly, in no uncertain terms.

From the kitchen to the living room, looking out of the window at the Konigsberg house opposite that has never had anything done to it at least since perestroika, I noted that the two toilets lying in the back garden ~ where else? ~  had become snow toilets, a rare sight indeed, but not as exclusive or controversial as the giant phallus, complete with two enormous snowballs, that some imaginative and enterprising young men would erect a day or two later somewhere in Kaliningrad.

This made the news, and, of course, Facebook. Personally, we had a bit of fun with this, by which I mean we conducted an experiment. Olga posted the media story to Facebook, and then we sat back ready to compare the different reactions from Russian commentators and those in Britland. As we anticipated, the Russian response was one of condemnation and disgust, whilst the Brits reacted in a flamboyant spirit that ranged from artistic criticism to unbridled glee.

Me? I just felt sorry for the virtue of virgin snow, but I consoled myself with the thought that outside of our circle something like this would never be condoned in the UK for fear that it would offend the delicate sensibilities of feminists, race-grievance wardens and the entire woke community: a giant phallus made of snow! Sexist! Racist!

Snowballs!

Copyright © 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.