Merry whatever

These are strange times when even wishing someone well can elicit a hate crime prosecution. Despite this, I am feeling pretty optimistic for the New Year what with a successful BREXIT being on the cards, want to wish my last remaining reader all the best for the festering season. Solstice, Christmas, Yule, whatever; and if you’re offended by that there is no hope for your diseased and raddled soul.

Here’s an old favourite of mine to pass the flowing bowl around to. Unless you’re one of the perpetually offended, in which case you do not love yourself and will find that very few others do.

See you in the New Year.

The fear factor

While crunching numbers, as I am wont to do because it’s what I earn a crust doing, I was listening to a Timeline documentary on YouTube, where the narrator was telling the tale of the Black Death and the social changes it helped bring about.

The thing that resonated with me was the various fanatic cults that arose during those times, even before the plague arrived in their locale. Convinced that the plague was the wrath of God (Although God has told me he did try to tell them about having a good wash now and then, but no-one was listening – as usual), certain groups of people turned to that good old standby of, instead of trying to deal with their personal hygiene issues and stop killing the cats that kept the rats down, chose self flagellation. That’s right, they went about the streets crying “Woe, woe, we’re all doomed” whilst lashing their own backs with a knout, a nasty sort of cat of nine tails with metal bits sewn into the whip ends. It is said these groups of ‘Flagellants’ as they were known, whipped themselves so hard that their blood would spatter street walls as they passed. It did not save them. In their self-weakened state, most perished.

So it is that I see the “Not my Prime Minister” and anti BREXIT campaigners, driven by their own fear, choose to roam the streets crying “We’re all doomed!” and getting under everyone else’s feet. Rather like the silly ‘Extinction rebellion’ protesters. They achieve nothing and are wasting their own and everyone else’s time. Rather like the flagellants of medieval times. They lack the reasoning ability to connect cause with effect themselves, so in ignorance devolve into a hideously primitive groupthink.

Unfortunately, Youngest is counted amongst their number. Which is a disappointment. I thought she’d learned about people who keep themselves down by being the authors of their own undoing, and that there are no saviours our there. According to her, they’re all apparently terrified that those nasty mustachio-twirling Tories are going to go around gloating over all the “Aha! Some poor people to torment, har-har me proud beauties!” You know, the working people who the Limp Dems and Islington Labour don’t really care about. Except when getting their vote in to support a bunch of unemployables like Corbyn.

What I saw during the campaign was Bojo, the UK’s very unclownish Prime Monster, going around, getting his hands dirty on the shop floor. Which is something I can respect rather than the opposition whose sole electioneering approach was gladhanding activists and loyalists while mostly ignoring the electorate or beating them over the head with scare stories, earnestly trying to re-educate any recalcitrant voter and crying “Vote for us, or the Tories will eat your babies.”. That and calling anyone who didn’t agree with them immediately unpleasant names. Well done chaps. Did it work? No prizes for giving the correct answer.

The thing is that neither BREXIT nor minor variations in the Earth’s climate are going to be harmful. Now they could be, but only if people refuse to rise to the challenge of a bit of extra sunshine rain or snow, or cling to the notion that a bunch of people who have never worked in the private sector over the channel know better than local people with their noses to the grindstone, fixing problems as they arise. Seriously, the immediate future contains more opportunity than threat. At least for the UK.

All the public moaning and groaning from the defeated are like a bunch of mardy teenagers who Mum and Dad have finally called ‘time’ on are achieving precisely nothing. All the Slebs whining like kicked bitches instead of claiming a little grown up dignity and facing their mistakes likewise. Although Lily Allen’s tactic of bursting into tears and sobbing ‘vote Labour’ has given a lot of people a bit of a giggle. It’s not that we’re unkind, it’s just that it’s funny to see all these people who think because they are good at entertaining have any idea about how the world really works.

So all these British slebs who didn’t get their way are going to leave the UK? Yeah, right. But where to? Surely not to that hell hole the Trump-infested US of A? No? Well the Yanks just dodged a bullet there. To the cultural backwater that is Canada? Mm, only if they’re happy to play to the odd bilingual Moose and a couple of puzzled bears. Australia? Watch out for the big hairy spiders and the Salties, not forgetting the deadly drop bears and one extremely unfriendly sheep near Brisbane. Heaven forfend that these ungracious slebs might have to learn another language. Even if they had the brains.

The truth is, as I pointed out to our young companions whilst we were visiting London, despite the odd knife attack, the western world is safer than it has been for quite some time, if ever. Fewer deaths from disease, wars, and even extreme weather events (Explanation here). Fewer road deaths. Indeed, fewer deaths from everything, apart from those claiming a Darwin Award, (Sightseeing on erupting volcanoes and suchlike).

Most of us are living longer and healthier lives to the point where getting a message from HM Queen to centenarians now has to be semi automated. That’s right, more people than ever before in the western world are making three digits, elderly friend included. Even if her wits are somewhere west of their preferred location.

Indeed. it’s getting to the point where pension payouts won’t begin until you’re eighty. Not that it’s a bad thing. One of my cousins just picked up his last P45 at age 79. Wound up his business and was last heard of travelling eastern Europe. Similarly I expect not to officially ‘retire’ until 70. Not that I really mind. Even then I’ll find something to make a few extra bucks on the side. Trusting for state pensions to be your sole source of income in your frail dotage is not a brilliant idea. Personally, I have two pensions in the offing, Mrs S has three and that’s without factoring in our investments. Having lost three pension funds over the years, (2 pots raided by New Labour, one when the company I worked for went belly up big time) I’ve become very cautious about those Ponzi schemes and nowadays employ a broker, an accountant and a lawyer to keep my investments secure. They earn their money.

Oh well, it might not be such a short life after all, and we will have to find our merriment where we may.

Now don’t cock it up….

Well done to the Tories. At the time of writing Boris and his boisterous blue crew have secured a solid majority in the UK Parliament. According to the FT’s tracker they hit the magic 322 seat marker around 5:10am UK time. I went to change into PJ’s and my new dressing gown before heading back for a large whiskey. One minute it was 320, then I blinked and 322 popped up on screen. Not sure what swung it for him but I’m quietly glad it has. I’m sitting here in my PJ’s drinking Black Grouse and nodding to myself in grim satisfaction,

Even if Big Nige and company didn’t get much of a look in, the Brexit party deserve an honourable mention in despatches for getting out there and fighting the good fight. A quiet Knighthood for Big Nige when all the fuss has died down wouldn’t come amiss. He deserves a pat on the back. As do all the Brexit MEP’s about to become redundant. Anne Widdecombe especially. Her speeches have been pure comedy gold. What a trooper.

Anyway…..

5:41am UK time. 352 seats to the Conservatives.

5:47am and all of a sudden it’s 355. Hot damn! I didn’t think they’d make more that 345. Glad to be wrong though.

5:58am and it’s 357 no, I blinked, it’s 358. This has the same feel watching Thatcher’s election victory after the Falklands war. Will it go over 360 seats, I ask myself, sitting in my office a third of the way across the world.

Man, I’m glad I held on to my sterling reserves, I’ve just looked at what the pound is trading at. And it’s due to go higher. An avaricious little smile is threatening to split my face in two, rather like my brokers did yesterday when we discussed our future financial plans.

So what does this considerable 35+ seat majority mean? Well the notorious Benn act can be booted to the kerb for a starter and it’s sponsor Oliver Letwin thrown in the Tower to rot. Britain can exit the EU in January and let the Eurocrats come scrambling after Britain’s crumbs. As I’ve previously mentioned in an earlier post the European Central Bank still thinks that Quantitative easing and putting the printing presses in high gear will solve their economic woes. The data does not support this conclusion. As I said to my broker, “People lie, numbers don’t.”

As for Britain leaving, well, that will not make the SNP happy, but so little does. The Scots will push for a new vote on Scottish independence and if Boris is wise he’ll let them have it. Right in the ballot box. Because as we’ve seen before, when push comes to Barnett Formula, the Scottish electorate will blink. They know why. Who pays for all their social benefits and services? England, that’s who. On it’s own the Scottish economy is like Rab C Nesbitt on a Saturday night. Tottering and barely coherent. The SNP might believe in socialist economics, but their economy doesn’t.

To their credit the SNP booted the Limp Dem leader out of her sinecure seat. Don’t know about who will replace Corbyn. If it’s McDowell, so much the better, he’s a raving Marxist of the worst sort which will turn people away from the ideological dead end that Labour has become. That said, I’m a Marxist too, but at least I’m a Groucho Marxist.

Pass the whiskey and cigars. I’m taking Friday off.

Jesus H Christ on a Bike! The Tory seat count just hit 361!……. I’m off to bed.

Update: Well, well.  Three hundred and sixty five.  That should do it, although I’d be happier if someone was in Parliament that we could be sure would hold the Tories feet to the fire.

Oh well, we’ll see what happens in January.

That’s interesting…..

You know how you come across certain snippets of information and your head just nods and you do a big internal “Oh wow. That makes sense.” I had such a moment this morning when I heard about a Swedish drug company donating the sum of a hundred grand to the UK Liberal Democrat party. “Okay Bill.” You might say. “Foreign companies donate to political parties all over the world. Big deal.”

Well sort of, and don’t get me wrong I’m inclined to agree, but when it is a particular drug company which is the major supplier of puberty blockers, you might be forgiven for putting two and two together. The two halves of this little equation being the upsurge of the transgender agenda with its surprisingly smooth intrusion into public education, the Limp Dems being very much on board with the whole identity politics thing and the possible financial benefits to the drug company concerned. Not that I approve of foreign interventions in individual nation states, but money is money, politicians are permanently on sale, and a bribe is a bribe, no matter it’s format. Arms companies used to do it all the time because that’s the way certain cultures did and still do business.

Meanwhile, back on my original topic, I was thinking thus; drugs cost a lot, tens, sometimes hundreds of millions to develop, but the applications of puberty blockers are very limited. Ergo there is a smaller market for said drugs than something mainstream, like painkillers for example. Early onset puberty can prove difficult, not only for an underage child, but also for parents and anyone within their social circle. However, early onset puberty to the degree that puberty blockers are required was once a very rare phenomenon. Nowadays we are told that such things are on the increase. Some claim this phenomenon is due to ‘Gender bending’ chemicals like those found in cheap soaps, certain types of plastic food containers and cheap Teflon. Other, more credible studies cite social and racial influences for early onset puberty. Whoops! forgot the trigger warning there. Oh well, can’t be helped. Don’t shoot the messenger etc.

However, there is another, and more sinister agenda here. All of a sudden there are a lot of surprisingly well funded and connected NGO’s and pressure groups pushing an associated use for such puberty blockers via their activist agendas.

Money is coming from somewhere to fund a very small number of vociferous activists who some, even of their own kind, are loath to be associated with. Could it be that the activists have been taking a sly backhander from the company who supply the drugs used to begin a soi-disant ‘trans’ children’s descent into their own bleak futures? Because the perverted activists who have infiltrated the Anglophone education system are pushing vulnerable children that way? Just to increase sales of an expensive drug to vulnerable young people who only think they need it?

Jesus H Christ on a bike! Surely no-one’s that cold bloodedly callous, are they? Are they?

Will this be the next Thalidomide scandal?

Excuse me. I think I’m feeling very nauseous…..