Marmite

This blog title is in German. It means ‘trigger warnings’. I initially thought that if I blogged about something as inconsequential and uncontroversial as our recent trip to Austria, I wouldn’t traumatise anyone. Is that naïve of me? Should I anticipate that some malcontents have nothing better to do than waste their time looking to be traumatised? Should I forewarn them of anything that might take them out of their safe spaces and echo chambers in a froth of ire and retribution? Should I, mischievously, satirise the concept of trigger warnings to raise a laugh here and a temper there? Oh, if you insist.

I think it was Richard Littlejohn writing for the Daily Mail who said he wished Britain had a politician who, like Donald Trump, would make us laugh again. Cue lefty outrage. How dare Littlejohn say anything about Trump that’s not insulting. Typical of the Daily Mail to publish it. Trump is a misogynist / convicted felon / dictator / fascist. Anyone who doesn’t hate Trump is a **&£^%$! Don’t even joke about him. Which kinda proves Littlejohn’s point.

There’s been a plethora of ‘fallen women’ in the news recently. Together with the others I’ve complained about over the years, they snap in half the scratched record that we need more women ‘at the top’ (as opposed to ‘on top’) to better reflect society (not that there is such a thing, according to one woman who so deserved to be at the top, and by that I mean at the right hand of God). The other argument for positive discrimination is that women bring something to the executive echelon that men can’t. They sure do, but I don’t think the following roll of dishonour is what was anticipated.

Many of the world’s religions and mythologies have a Tree of Life, but I want to just mention the Christian tree, given that Britain is and has been a Christian country for about 2,000 years (I like round figures – just look at my rear). In the interests of multiculturalism, diversity, equity, inclusion, wokeism and mob-appeasers, perhaps I should say something about the Tree in Judaism (of which I’m also very fond), Sikhism (I’ve known many good eggs over the years), Hinduism (ditto) and Islam. But I’m not going to, because I want to redress the balance after the ‘Indignant from Islington’ reactions to Brave Braverman’s recent speech.

I first published this piece under the old regime in October last year. I was planning to republish it on Marmite at some stage as promised in a previous blog (here) , but not just yet as I have a lot of new material swimming around my noddle. However, one of the best-ever LinkedIn posts (here) appeared in my feed just now and I just had to HAD TO respond to it with the old blog (slightly upated). So here 'tis. My phone rang recently. It was one of my many gentlemen-friends (don’t tell Hubby) to whom I shall refer as ‘G’. I really enjoy our phone conversations. They follow a familiar pattern. G asks if I have anything to add to the agenda of a forthcoming meeting, or if I can help him with the minutes of the previous meeting because he can’t read his handwriting, that sort of thing. After these committee-niceties, he changes the dynamic with a searching question, along the lines of: • Can you see a way out of the cladding crisis? • Do you think we should have another lockdown?...

This is a slightly amended version of the third ever posting of my Warts and All blog, the blog I've hidden from public view for reasons I won't bore you with again. I've redone it because I have the urge to post something and reach out but can't settle to write anything new, and I'm currently nostalgic for The North. Nostalgic? That's code for, I miss being able to call a spade a spade. I miss the crap-cutting, eye-winking, luv-calling, bum-slapping, unpretentious, patriotic, woke-antithesis North. I'm not quite feeling nostalgic for Arthur Scargill but, heck, anyone and anything is preferable to Leviathan Lynch. When I was eight years old or thereabouts (so long ago I can’t remember exactly) I attended the local junior school in the heart of a West-Riding-of-Yorkshire mining-cum-farming village. The community was homogenously white, so when we were introduced to a new trainee teacher, who was Asian, our jaws dropped (that, I do remember). Up until then my ...