Coach Trip

I wish it could be Christmas every day.

I don’t know about you. But I’m experiencing some serious FOMO at the moment. While freedom loving America is having the time of its life, making out like a drunk nana, pre-loaded on sherry at a Chippendales show, here in Starmer’s Britain we are circling the drain, trudging on through the cold February drizzle, a nation in (badly managed) decline.

It’s been a grim few weeks in Not So Merry Olde England. Rape gangs. Southport trials. Gino D’Acampo. It’s all so bleak, miserable and depressing.

So I figured I should maybe try and cheer us all up, by taking this opportunity, and I know this is might be a teeny tiny bit premature, to look forward to Christmas.

The Season of Good Will is, at least in geological terms, almost upon us. So why not pull up an eggnog, take the load off your sleigh, and join me, as I sketch out the perfect Christmas Eve?

Snow is falling gently outside. Chestnuts are a-roasting on the open fire. It’s A Wonderful Life is on the telly. And a long abandoned game of Connect 4 sits unconnected on the coffee table. The kids are tucked up in bed, dreaming of Santa. While everyone else is huddled under cosy blankets, sipping hot wine, which has been fortified, and somehow made more Christmassy, with the addition of a throat lozenge, and some bramble.

Then Hark! What is that sound? No silly. It’s not the Herald Angels Singing. It’s just the Ring Doorbell. You know, the one you bought when your Amazon parcels kept getting nicked out of the porch, and the police refused to do anything about it.

There it goes again. Who could it possibly be at this hour?

Expecting to find carol singers blasting out a rousing chorus of Good King Wensceleas, you open the door to discover it’s actually an even better Yuletide treat.

It’s your comely voice coach!

Who has trudged sixty miles through a raging blizzard of restrictive and authoritarian lockdown rules to be by your side. Sing Hosanna! After all. What better Christmas present could there be, than the gift of correct annunciation?

It looked like poor Sir Kier had been banged to rights last week when it was revealed that his vivacious voice coach, Leonie Mellinger, had, in contravention of rules which Kier Starmer himself demanded should be harder, harsher, longer, and applicable to everyone but him, ventured across several lockdown tiers to deliver an urgent voice coaching session on Christmas Eve 2020.

I’m surprised that the story gained any traction to be honest. Usually the legacy media runs in the opposite direction when there’s even a rumour of Sir Kier surreptitiously indulging in some extra curricular tongue and throat exercises.

Of course there’s no suggestion of impropriety in this case. Well at least not that sort of impropriety.

But if Boris Johnson broke the law eating cake with a few make-weights in Number 10, then surely this was also a crime.

Evidently not.

According to the Telegraph.

The Metropolitan Police has declined to investigate Sir Keir Starmer’s in person meeting with his voice coach during Covid lockdown.

On the grounds, apparently, that Sir Kier is not a Tory.

Only joking. But not really joking.

It was all worthwhile in the end. Because, believe it or not, Starmer used to sound like a robot with sinusitis.

But thanks to Ms Mellinger’s melodious tutelage, Sir Kier’s vocal span now reaches all the way from the sanctimonious whine of ‘my father was a toolmaker,’ to the angry sanctimonious whine of ‘far right bandwagon’.

So, quite the range.

This is such a weird story. Sir Kier is usually a stickler for pedantic, pernickety, petitfogging rules. Even rules he has no obligation to follow.

Like the made up, bogus international law which he claims has compelled him to hand over the Chagos Islands to Mauritius.

It makes no logical sense. And I’m not just saying that. Mauritius genuinely seems to have no claim on the islands.

It’s like handing over the Isle of Wight to Kazakhstan. Whitstable to The Democratic Republic of Congo. Or the Elgin Marbles to Greece.

Still. After a snowstorm of controversy, Sir Kier has finally stepped back from the brink, and had himself a little rethink. Phew!

It now seems unlikely that sensible Starmer will pay Mauritius £9bn to take this priceless asset off our hands.

He’s now going to pay Mauritus £18bn.

£18bn!!!! That’s nearly a black hole full!!

The legal side of the Chagos scandal deal is being overseen by Richard Hermer KC. This human rights lawyer is not just a super close buddy of the Prime Minister, he’s the Attorney General, which makes him the Labour Government’s top legal eagle.

As you might expect with a CV like that, his list of former clients does seem rather suspect.

Hermer represented Afghan citizens who tried to sue the SAS for ‘war crimes’. Fought for tearaway teen terrorist Shamima Begum, currently languishing in a detention camp in Syria. And even advised IRA adjacent Gerry Adams.

Grizzly Adams could even end up trousering millions of pounds in compo thanks to a change to the law brought forward by this Labour government.

Whose top legal advisor is……well you get the picture.

Though I’m not suggesting for a moment that Hermer, who apparently believes that the British Empire was nothing but a racist enterprise built on racism by racists, is working against Britain’s best interests.

After all, that’s Ed Miliband’s job.

If you think handing the tiny Chagos Island over to the Chinese is a mistake then I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.

Starmer plans to hand our entire country back to the EU.

Of course he does.

Starmer would eagerly row a perfectly seaworthy lifeboat towards a sinking Titanic.

The PM recently travelled to Brussels, to reset our relationship with the EU. The only economic block which is currently doing worse than Britain.

Yes the trip was a ‘reset’. Much in the same way that the United States invited representatives of Emperor Hirohito aboard the USS Missouri in 1945, to ‘reset’ Japan’s relationship with the USA.

In this video: The sheep is Britain under the rule of the Remainer elite. The ditch is the EU. And the helpful young farmhand is Brexit.

Drunk on globalism, Davos, and the gimp mask restrictions of international law, Starmer seems petrified of a Britain that’s free to make its own decisions. Worried in case it goes rogue like it did last time, and does something colonialist, unforgivable, and nasty.

Like bringing railways, industrialisation, and democracy to India. Or sending the Royal Navy’s West Africa Squadron to free 150,000 victims of the transatlantic slave trade.

You know. Horrid stuff like that.

Which is why he seems so keen to voluntarily shackle our vile nation to the peace loving Europeans. After all the only stain on their glowing humanitarian record is starting two world wars, inventing Nazism, and creating Eurovision.

So all in all they are our moral, ethical, not to mention, musical, superiors.

Starmer’s first step will be to sign the UK up to the Pan-Euro-Mediterranean Convention (PEM).

Which we are reassured is not, in any way shape or form, a customs union. Mainly on the grounds that it is called something different from a customs union.

Yeah ok.

It’s like trans athletes. You can call a six foot water nymph with his her meat and two veg hanging out his her swimming cossie whatever you like. But everyone knows that’s not a mermaid slicing through the water to swipe Gold from those female athletes. That’s a fella.

Starmer is also keen for Britain to align with the EU on animal welfare and veterinary practices. The so called SPS (sanitary and phytosanitary) rules.

I’m no James Herriot but as I understand it, the UK already has higher animal welfare standards than the EU. So what’s the point?

Apart, of course, from finding yet another regulatory means to fetter us to the Brussels albatross.

You don’t have to be a brainbox master of 4D chess to see the broader strategy here.

We align with the EU on SPS, we join the PEM, we sign an agreement on European defence, and pretty soon you’re quite sensibly asking if, rather than being a ‘rule taker’ on all these issues, it wouldn’t just be better to join the ‘rule makers’?

And hey presto! Before you know it. We’re back in bony bosom of pinch faced joy vacuum Ursula Von Der Leyen, and her Brit bashing buddies.

Quelle un Arc de la Triomphe!

A caveat: I say we have better animal welfare standards than the EU. That’s except for halal stuff of course. Which involves killing cattle before it has been stunned, and is a practice which many animal welfare groups, including the RSPCA, have condemned as being unnecessarily cruel.

But of course an exception is made for that.

Because it’s Islam.

As you know Labour has refused to hold a national public inquiry into the Pakistani Muslim rape gangs.

And fair enough.

Why should we should spend millions of pounds of tax payers money investigating the government failures which allowed these gangs to flourish under the noses of our police force, social services, and child support agencies?

When it’s much, much cheaper to spend millions of pounds of tax payers money coming up with ways to make it illegal for us to complain about them?

Which is what Angela Rayner looks set to do with her council into ‘Islamophobia’.

This fine and fair minded council will consider every viewpoint, hear every voice, and balance competing opinions, before coming to its unbiased, impartial conclusion that anyone who criticises Islam is a gammon faced racist who is trying to undermine ‘social cohesion’ and should be arrested.

How do we know? Well because the All Party Parliamentary Group on British Muslim’s (APPG) definition of ‘Islamophobia’, which the Labour Party has already adopted, outlaws linking Islam with sexism, violence, and specifically ‘grooming gangs’.

It also decrees that

suggesting that Muslims in general have a particular propensity to commit, or to support, acts of terrorism;

is ‘Islamophobic’.

Heaven forfend anyone would link Islamic Extremism to terrorism. That’s just stupid. Like linking biscuits to obesity.

Let’s be honest. The Labour government’s attempt to legally define ‘Islamophobia’ is not some kind of grammatical consolidation.

This is not about defining a word in a way that would help cut down on discrimination, prejudice, and racism.

If it was, I’d be all for it.

No. This latest attack on our free speech rights is all about shoring up Labour’s Muslim vote, and would explicitly change the balance of power in our society.

It is about bringing blasphemy laws back to Britain, but only of course, to cover one particular religion. Ensuring that one ‘community’, one faith, and one ideology, is literally placed beyond criticism. And so above all others.

Like all forms of identity politics it’s undemocratic, divisive, racist, and wrong.

Look. I’m not anti Muslim. Far from it. I have Muslim friends, (Yes, thank you, I am aware this is a cliché.) and I have many Muslim acquaintances. Of course I do. I live in London. I wish no harm on anyone. And I certainly don’t want people from any minority group, or majority group for that matter, to be targeted with prejudice, intolerance, or bigotry.

But maybe some of the more vocal parts of the Muslim ‘community’ could spend a little more time integrating into wider society, respecting British values, (Yes Guardian readers we do have them. Who knew?) and following the rules that apply (or should apply) to literally everyone else who lives here, regardless of their race, political beliefs, or religion.

And a little less time, demanding that they get to live by different, special laws, rules, and standards than the rest of us.

Or is it ‘Islamophobic’ to suggest such a hateful thing?

Britain under Starmer, started off badly, quickly turned into a disaster, and is now, somehow, only getting worse. Still, let’s end on a positive note.

This should cheer you up. It’s only 317 sleeps until Christmas.

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LSO