A Question Of Priorities

No sooner had Britain’s new world heavyweight boxing champion commented on sexual perversion than some moron had started a petition to remove his name from the shortlist for the Sports Personality Of The Year. Tyson Fury provoked outrage with a common sense if undiplomatic triple observation about homosexuality, paedophilia, and the right to life; his exact words were reported as: “before the devil comes home” three things are needed, “One of them is homosexuality being legal in countries, one of them is abortion and the other is paedophilia. Who would have thought in the 50s and 60s that those first two would be legalised?”

I prefer to capitalise the word Devil, it is a proper noun, after all, but as a lifelong atheist I find nothing objectionable in that sentiment. Most fire and brimstone Christians, Orthodox Jews and all Moslems would agree with it. It is also true that in less than two generations, as far as homosexuality is concerned, three and a half thousand years of Judeo-Christian morality has been thrown out of the window. Yeah, I know, argumentum ad antiquitatem, but by the same token, argumentum ad novitatem.

In less than two days, the moron’s petition had attracted well over a hundred thousand signatures. Not only that, another moron, at least one of them, had reported Fury to the police for committing a hate crime, I kid you not. One of his objections was that Fury had compared homosexuality with paedophilia. Well, yes, but he also compared it with abortion, and might well have compared it with road traffic accidents or the current flooding in the North of England. All are undesirable, and that was the point he was making.

On May 27 this year, I started a petition for debt-free money; to date, six people have signed it, including me. This is arguably the most important issue of our times, yet it has been totally ignored. Some people might argue that in view of this and many other things, Western Man doesn’t deserve to survive, and that the Islamist lunatics behind last month’s Paris atrocity should murder us all. Frankly, at this point in time I wouldn’t much care if they did. As long as they started with Manchester’s Gay Village.

What’s The Matter With Kids Today?

As the song goes. What indeed? I was walking home today, minding my own business as I always do, when on the other side of the road I saw a young, fair-haired boy throwing a hissy fit. I am a terrible judge of ages, but he couldn’t have been much more than ten years old. The woman with whom he was arguing looked young but was almost certainly his mother. There was another one, possible two, kids present, but this one was arguing vociferously, and obviously didn’t want to get in the car. He called her a pig, and used the word bloody, directed at her.

When I was growing up in the 60s – the 1960s, not the 1860s – the word bloody was not taboo even for the young, though it was frowned upon when used as a swear word, but any kid, boy or girl, who called his mother a pig would have been dealt summary justice. As things were, after some more protesting, he got in the car and they drove off. Is it really any surprise they’re now murdering their teachers?

Penge Anomaly

A strange thing happened to me today. It was around 11.30am or just after, and I was crossing the road in Penge having finished my shopping when a driver paused in the queue some distance from the lights motioned to me. He was holding something in his hand which as I approached him I saw to be a £10 note. He was a young black guy who I think was in the passenger seat, if that was the case then the black car, which had an American look to it, had a left hand drive.

When I reached him, he held the money out to me. I said something, and he nodded, I took it, and the car drove off. I attempted to memorise the licence plate then thought better of it. I don’t know who he was, though he had a moustache and looked slightly disreputable, but I have a beard and am extremely disreputable! Obviously he didn’t think I was dealing drugs, maybe he thought I was a tramp; as I always dress down, that is a distinct possibility. Maybe he’d just won the lottery. I don’t know what moral to draw from this, but I think we should all try to be a bit kinder, especially to strangers, including people to whom we would not normally give the time of day.

Real Victims And Head Cases

Here is how you tell real victims from head cases. The attractive young woman at the top is Elizabeth Smart. In June 2002 when she was 14 years old, she was kidnapped from her bed at knifepoint by a religious fanatic and his equally mad wife.

She was raped repeatedly over a period of months. She is now married and the mother of a daughter.

The not so young woman claims when she was 7 or perhaps 8 years old, Rolf Harris indecently assaulted her briefly, in a matter of seconds. She has never recovered from it.

The real victims get on with their lives, often in stellar fashion. The head cases never move on, including from assaults that never happened.

Schrödinger’s Rapist — Even Feminazis Aren’t Wrong About Everything

In this case they are right, but for the wrong reasons. Here is the proposition seen from a male perspective, albeit a not particularly bright one:

Several years ago, I came across a woman standing on a street corner at night, obviously lost. She asked where the nearest train station was and I told her – about 20 minutes walk away. I offered to drive her to the station but she refused, saying she’d catch a cab instead.

When I got home, I told my partner about the incident and how puzzled I was that the woman refuse my offer of a lift. My partner said “why would she get into a car with an unknown male. For all she knew, you may take her somewhere and rape her”. While I understood this, I was a little offended – “why would anyone think that”?

Okay, let me offer a counter anecdote, many years ago, sometime between about 1987 and early 1996, I was out running late-ish one night. (I gave up running on medical advice in September 1996, so this is about as far as I can narrow it down). On my way home I’d slowed to a walk when I was approached by a young German girl who was looking for the place she was staying. I think she was an exchange student or something. She spoke passable English, certainly it was a lot better than my German. Anyway, I said I had an A-Z at home, and I would go and get it for her, which I did. I left her waiting around the junction of Venner Road and Newlands Park, ran off home then returned; she was still there, we found where she was headed, she thanked me, and we went our separate ways. I suppose I should have offered to walk with her because earlier she had indicated she was willing to come back to my flat. I almost agreed because it was foggy and cold, but decided on balance that was not a good idea, just in case she was a loony and screamed rape. So you see, this works both ways.

Having said all that, I was amazed at her gullibility, but resisted the temptation to lecture her about men like Ted Bundy.

Schrödinger’s Rapist is paranoia, but for the wrong reasons. Okay, a girl who approaches a guy is less likely to put her life in danger than vice versa, but it has been known. When I was growing up in the 1960s, parents routinely warned their kids – boys as well as girls – not to go with strangers, not to take sweets from them, not to talk to them. Strange women as well as strange men, because this was the era of Brady and Hindley. Let us not forget that it was Hindley who lured their victims into the car, something Brady would most likely have been unable to do to a streetwise kid, so in some cases the female is deadlier than the male.

There is absolutely no need to become paranoid about rape, but one should always beware of strangers because contrary to feminist propaganda, the majority of rapes are indeed committed by strangers. Ultimately though any of us can be violated or murdered by someone we know and trust because ordinary people go gaga on occasion, and after 7/7 we will never know who we can trust and who we can’t. Ultimately all any of us can do is take reasonable precautions, and if for a woman that means being suspicious of strange men – including me – well, that’s the price we and indeed society will have to pay.

My Doctor Is A Santana Fan

She must be because as I walked out of the door after my appointment she said “I hope you’re feeling better”.

Seriously, I was feeling absolutely horrible yesterday morning; I crashed out and resolved to fast all day, but although I managed a 17 day hunger strike in November 1996, these days I can’t go four hours without taking a bite out of something. She was a locum by the way, hello she said, I’m Susan, one of the doctors. She probably said that because she hardly looked old enough to be doctor, and what a surprise she was too, smallish, bubbly, and with a nice albeit small set of jugs I could have avoided staring at but she would insist on sitting close to me and feeling me around the gills. Does this hurt, she asked? Seriously, much of the magic of medicine is in the laying on of hands, let’s face it, an attractive young woman touching your neck and face softly like that never made anyone feel bad, man or woman.

Talking of bad though, the bad news is that she diagnosed me with nascent influenza – on the hottest day of the year! The really bad news is of course that I am at least a quarter of a century too late, though when I think of the last lady doctor who shared my bed, I don’t feel quite so disappointed, but that’s another story.

The Eclipse Of Women

Recently, the A List actress Sandra Bullock was declared the world’s most beautiful woman by People magazine, while the UK soap actress Michelle Keegan was declared the world’s sexiest woman by OK!magazine. Both are extremely attractive, and not just for a 50 year old in the case of Miss Bullock, but...

Which brings me to Eclipse, an Eighteenth Century racehorse. This stallion was raced eighteen times, and didn’t simply win every race but left the opposition standing. This led to the phrase “Eclipse first and the rest nowhere”. There is a woman who is to beautiful women what Eclipse was to other racehorses; her name is Candice Night. Mary Pickford, Michelle Pfeiffer, Lynsey de Paul, Kate Bush...were/are incredible, but also-rans.

Has there ever been any woman in history who came close to Candice Night in loveliness? Stunningly attractive in her youth, blue eyes, with that same long blonde hair today, she looked and looks like an angel. But it doesn’t stop there, she has the voice of an angel too, both her singing voice and her speaking voice. And the personality of an angel, a genuinely lovely human being. But wait, there is even more, brains too, poetess, lyricist, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and together with Ritchie Blackmore the creator of a new genre of music. In short, the complete package, even lovelier today, her 44^th birthday, a mother of two, than she was the day I first saw her in an interview with her future husband way back in 1997.

Every time I see her, she leaves me speechless with delight. Happy birthday Candice, from one of your many, many admirers, male and female.

My Harold Covington Moment

I can’t remember the exact date, but I was fifty years old at the time, and having reached that age, an age I thought I would never live to see, I was feeling more than a twinge of regret at the inevitability of dying without issue.

I was in Central London not far from Cambridge Circus, and it was a sunny evening. Coming towards me was a tall, young, bearded man, blond or blondish, and handsome. Something about him caught my eye, and I thought if I’d had a son, he would probably be about his age, and impressive physical specimen that he was, I would have been proud to call him mine. Then something unthinkable happened. He was walking with another man of about the same age, this man was clean shaven, and they were talking. Then, to my utter horror, as they were right on top of me, the bearded man put his arm around his companion’s waist. I couldn’t believe it, and as they passed me I turned to look back to ensure I wasn’t daydreaming. Sadly it was not a daydream but a nightmare; they were actually walking off like lovers.

At that point, I thought of Wicked Harold, a man who is nowhere near as wicked as his myriad enemies believe, nor as wicked as he likes to make out, as I know from personal experience. Harold has never been shy about ranting against queers. While I’ve never been able to take lesbianism seriously, there are few things that disgust me as much as male homosexuality. Suddenly I was glad to be both fifty years old and childless, because if this man had indeed been my son, I would have died of shame.

A Degree Of Separation

You really begin to feel your age when you are separated by one degree of separation from the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Almost. When Samuel J. Seymour was knee high to a grasshopper. his godmother took him to the theatre, and while there, on April 14, 1863, John Wilkes Booth shot President Abraham Lincoln in the head. The President died the following morning. On February 9, 1956, Mr Seymour appeared on the American Quiz show I’ve Got A Secret wherein one of the panel guessed correctly what was his secret, namely that he was the last living witness to the Lincoln assassination.

Seymour J. Seymour died April 12, 1956, and less than four months later I was born, so in theory I could almost have met him, though sometimes, when my back is at its worst, I feel like I actually met Lincoln.

Having said that, I have a closer connection to Adolf Hitler, having shaken the hand of a man who had shaken the hand of a man who had actually shaken hands with the Führer. That is probably not something to boast about, so I will say that my connection to royalty is a lot closer, having been in the same room as both Charles and the tragic Diana, although not at the same time.

My First Revealed Truth

As today is an anniversary of sorts, it’s about time I wrote about this matter. I’ve had a number of revealed truths over the years, decades; this is not only the first one I remember, but the first one, period. I was bullied unmercifully at school. Although that is a cliché, it is true in my case. I can still remember my very first day at junior school, and the kids who tried to force my head down the toilet in the outside “bogs”, and how a friend helped me, a neighbour who lived downstairs in the same block of flats. I alluded to his mother in a previous rant, but to stay on track, when I decided to chuck in school after one year of sixth form, one of my chief tormentors – who was, ironically, the reason I first took a real interest in chess – alluded to my tenure at Barnhill Secondary Modern as “Six years of unhappiness”. He thought that was a real laugh.

It was a year or two before that though, my first revealed truth. I was, I think, fourteen, and used to hang around in a small gang. One of this three strong gang – Biscuit (don’t ask) – lived near a drop-out named Roger, on the opposite side of the road and a few doors down. He was, I suppose, a nasty piece of work. Although he was perhaps seventeen his teeth were already rotten. One day when I came out of school. probably later, after the crowds had gone, he and another, younger boy whose name I don’t think I ever knew, tormented and hit me. Although I’ve always been tall, I was too a bit of a wimp, and never used to hit back. On this occasion though I did, and it made matters worse. I was rescued by a girl. I’m not sure if she was older than me but I have a feeling she wasn’t in my year. She didn’t physically pull them off, of course, but she did chastise them, and in 1970, boys would generally not hit girls.

I don’t think she got more involved than that, I think probably I had a bloody nose or something. Anyway, fast forward a week or two, and as I was coming out of school, late again, there was a mangy cur a few feet away from me. There were a few stray dogs that used to hang around the school. I don’t know why, but for some reason this dog annoyed me, I picked up a stick, or perhaps a stone, and threw it at the animal. I think I took a swipe at it too, a wild kick that missed. And would you believe who came along? Yes, it was the very same girl, and after berating my conduct, she said something like “I’m glad those boys hit you now”.

What is the moral of this? Well, how often do you hear the claim, usually in a court case, that X was abused as a child, which is why he dragged this woman into the bushes and raped her, or Y was sexually abused by her wicked uncle, which is why she falsely accused her ex-boyfriend of raping her? And so on. Abuse does affect us, so do many things, but does it either help us or really make us feel better by subjecting someone else to pain and misery because we have suffered? And is it really an excuse?

I wish I’d learned that lesson, but four decades and more on, I can’t say I have. On top of that, Roger, the same youth with the rotten teeth who abused me on that occasion, well, he started hanging around with us, or we with him. As I said, he was a nasty piece of work for sure, but I suppose it was cool to hang out with him, although I never used that word at the time. There must be another moral there about abusive relationships, but here I will simply put it down to the follies of youth.

March 13, 2015

Philosophy For The Gullible

Gentlemen. And ladies. Meet Carissa Véliz. I would like to call this lady a self-styled philosopher; unfortunately she has credentials as the real thing, at least on paper. Which begs the question, what sort of garbage now passes for philosophy in our institutions of higher learning? That true philosopher Professor Antony Flew must be spinning in his grave. Bear with me, and I will explain why. Philosophy used to mean thinking about nature, Nature itself and human nature: the nature of reality, existence, the theory of knowledge, the purpose if any of life, good and evil. And so on.

True philosophers are supposed to think critically, not accept uncritically any garbage that is peddled to them and the rest of us by special interest groups or just plain liars. Here is some of the nonsense she espouses re so-called gender equality.

“After a long history of patriarchal societies, discrimination against women is still predominant, despite myths about it being a thing of the past.”

Does she really believe in patriarchy theory? Apparently so. In the past, women suffered terrible discrimination, after all they were sent off to fight wars, or to labour from dawn till dusk in the fields while men stayed home looking after the young. No? The ancient Greeks fought a war over Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. Did any nation go to war over a man’s face, even in mythology? Gender roles, so-called, evolved not because of the wicked patriarchy but because without them, civilisation would not have survived. Women of child-bearing age and young girls are more precious than men, because a woman can bare how many children? While a man can in theory sire hundreds.

In the modern world, traditional gender roles are not so important, women don’t die in childbirth to the extent they used to; however dangerous the streets of our cities may be, they are a lot safer than the environments in which our distant ancestors lived; education is universal because the advance of technology means there is more time for the young to be educated. Unfortunately, as Miss Véliz shows, education is not always a boon.

Here’s a gem: “In 1997, it was estimated that women worked two-thirds of the world’s working hours, earned 10% of the world’s income and owned less than 1% of the world’s property”. She cites World Bank Development Indicators, 1997 as the source of this claim; unfortunately, as Christina Hoff Sommers points out, these figures were plucked out of thin air like most feminist statistics.

Let’s take just one of the above. Do women really own only 1% of the world’s property, and even if that were the case, would it matter? Much property is owned not by individuals – men or women – but by non-human entities. The Government owns much land in all countries. Infrastructure: roads, schools, hospitals, may be owned by the government, local authorities, and so on. An art gallery may be a registered charity, like for example, the Tate Gallery in London. Art galleries contain colossal wealth, though not the sort we can consume or put to use. However, apart from special exhibitions, most galleries and museums (in the UK) are open to the public free. Clearly access is easier for people who live within easy travelling distance, but in a sense the art displayed in these galleries belongs to the nation or even to the entire world.

In the UK, the Crown in the personage of the Queen owns enormous wealth including the forces – HM Armed Forces, and even the prison system – HMP. This holding of wealth is though purely symbolic, and is more of a liability than an asset, because prisons and armies do not make money. If one removes all the aforementioned forms of wealth from the equation, do women really own only 1% of the UK’s property, of America’s property, of China’s property? Clearly not. Then there is another factor to be taken into account, married couples and even families may own much of their wealth collectively; a housewife who has a wealthy husband may have no income in her own right, the same may be said of their children, but he is duty bound to provide for her. In the US, females in higher education have outnumbered males for some time; these are the high earners of the future, so clearly the figures cited by both the World Bank and our airhead philosopher are total bunk.

Sadly, Miss Véliz has also swallowed the rape culture nonsense of the sisterhood; here she parrots “1 in 6 women in the US, for example, have been the victims of a completed or attempted rape, and many rapists will say that they didn’t rape their victim even if a woman said no at the start. So, if you’re a man, be very careful about getting explicit consent and not imposing yourself on a woman.”

Studies like the infamous Ms survey conducted by Mary Koss tell us as much about the true instance of rape as for example the June 2012 survey that revealed 36% of Americans believe in flying saucers. The big difference is that the theory of flying saucers sounds good whereas the claim that one woman in 6, one in 5 or even one in 4 is or will become a rape victim sounds like and is lying propaganda. And is the average age of entry into prostitution really 13? That would imply that some or indeed many start younger; clearly this is not prostitution but child sexual abuse, which is an entirely different matter. It is simply ludicrous for her to claim that most prostitutes are abused or coerced into the oldest profession; it may be a sordid business, but not only do many women make a good living out of it – in a purely financial sense – most are happy doing it, whatever social stigma it may have.

Some do it part-time, many give it up as they age, be it out of choice or necessity, and the claim that the average age of death of prostitutes is 34 is based on what evidence, precisely? Her claim based on a New York Times article (she says) that around 90% of an estimated 200,000 to 400,000 prostitutes working in Spain have been trafficked is emotive nonsense. The word trafficked – and declensions thereof – is a recent addition to the lexicon of lunacy; it is used to imply coercion or even slavery. The bottom line is that a taxi driver who drives a prostitute to a meeting with a client can be said to have trafficked her.

Having said that, there has been a certain amount of organised trafficking of prostitutes in Spain and elsewhere, but it remains to be seen how many of these women were genuinely coerced and much less forced into prostitution, whatever tall tales they tell the police when they are busted in raids.

Let’s not bother with the nonsense about the gender pay gap, at least not while the patriarchy is paying her to produce gibberish.

Under Living Ethically, Miss Véliz displays the full extent of both her ignorance and her naïveté when she claims banks lend money. Does anyone still believe this? Banks do not lend money, rather they create credit; I have explained this in my speech Pay Wealth-Creators, Not Banksters, others have explained it before me, and increasingly ordinary people are coming to recognise the banking scam for what it is. It remains to be seen though if even Goldman Sachs has knowingly been involved in the trafficking of underage girls for the sex trade as she claims here.

Miss Véliz is also an advocate of veganism: cows, pigs, and chickens, all show a wide array of emotions, including fear and happiness, she says. Certainly cows do, although they do not necessarily display much intelligence. Is it really cruel, barbaric, inhumane to breed animals for food? Why don’t you ask your local fox? Hey dude, don’t you realise that tearing chickens to shreds is cruel, barbaric and unfoxlike? Have you ever considered veganism? But it gets worse: a vegetarian can save up to about 400 lives a year, she says. Man, she must have found that figure on the same website as her ludicrous rape statistics.

Gentlemen. And ladies. Miss Véliz is a truly tragic case. All the more tragic for me, because I really could have done with meeting a woman like her thirty years ago when I would have charmed her into my bed with my own hard luck story, and probably have persuaded her to pick up the restaurant bill into the bargain.

Barrister’s Rape Blog Controversy

Last week, a barrister caused controversy by suggesting in a blog that if a woman complains about being raped while drunk, her complaint should be dismissed. Drunken consent is still consent, argued David Osborne, who one hopes is no relation to George Osborne.

His suggestion was indelicate, to put it mildly, but was clearly provoked by the ludicrous hysteria we are now facing on both sides of the Atlantic about certain kinds of rape. Not the unambiguous kind in which a victim is attacked in her own home or in the park by a masked assailant who often terrorises and brutalises her in addition to any sexual acts he performs or forces her to perform, but the she said/he said type known as date rape, acquaintance rape, and the like. Although his blog was removed PDQ – one suspects after a call from the Bar Council or some such – it has been captured by at least one newspaper. Outrage aside, one should ask, was he right? The unambiguous answer is of course yes and no.

Firstly there are cases – thankfully few and far between – like the outrageous and well-publicised Steubenville affair of 2012 in which a 16 year old girl got drunk at a party, and was then handed round like a piece of meat by other students who seemed to think their behaviour was hilarious. Then, at the other end of the spectrum there was the still albeit sordid Ched Evans case in which a young woman went to an hotel with the intent of having sex with one man, then woke up the next morning (claiming) she could not remember if she had engaged in sexual acts with one man or two or none.

Some cases are worse than that by far, a young woman may consume a great deal of alcohol then have sex with a man who is equally drunk. If she cannot remember – or claims she cannot remember – having sex, agreeing to have sex, or even if she initiates the act with a willing partner, can that really be classed as rape, or is it simply buyer’s remorse?

A woman who goes to bed with a prince and wakes up next to a frog has not been raped, rather she has had bad sex. This is something that cuts both ways.

David Osborne’s anger was directed at the insidious and dangerous attempts of the CPS to pander to anti-rape activists (so-called) who insist on no credible evidence that the vast majority of rapes go unreported, and that this is because of a culture of disbelief amongst the police. Furthermore, they claim, juries acquit defendants unjustly because they too have been taken in by rape myths, one of the most prevalent being that women seldom if ever lie about being raped. All the available credible evidence indicates otherwise. The fact is that when juries hear the evidence, so-called, they refuse to convict. Why should a jury convict on the evidence of a woman who claims to have been raped by a man, who admits dating him repeatedly afterwards, then weeks or months later accuses him of rape? That is what happened in the case of American student Landen Gambill, which did not involve either alcohol or the police.

A major false premise about most of these date rape cases is that any sex that takes place is initiated by the male, and that this is seen as some sort of reward, one which is always given reluctantly. The reality is that it is the woman who chooses to have sex, and with whom, including who takes her home, at least as far as young women are concerned, though as women grow older, men have more say and may even dictate terms.

We need to break away from this hysterical nonsense; convicting innocent men is an even greater injustice than allowing the innocent to walk free, although increasingly those who control our criminal justice system do not appear to believe so.

The Odious Chelsea Hoffman

The first time I happened across Chelsea Hoffman was in connection with convicted murderess Linda Carty. At the time, that arch-liar and champion of lost causes Clive Stafford Smith was peddling all manner of lies to the UK media on Carty’s behalf, lies that were by and large being lapped up. With the notable exception of the New York Times Supreme Court correspondent, the US media hasn’t given this old witch the time of day. Hoffman penned a notable line about Carty’s execution – which unfortunately has still not taken place: “The world will not miss this woman.”

I was so impressed by that phrase that I wrote a poem based on it. As things turned out, that was the only thing about Chelsea Hoffman that has ever impressed me.

After I signed up with AllVoices I exchanged some banter with her over something, I can’t remember what, but it may have been over the Madeleine McCann case, which is likely now to remain ever unsolved and thus controversial. Like a lot of know-alls who know fuck all, Miss Hoffman believes she has the solution to this murder – as it almost certainly was: the parents did it, and she is not shy with her innuendos.

Self-styled criminal profiler Chelsea seems to think this is a startlingly original hypothesis; criminal profiling is garbage, but if she knew anything at all about how the police really work she would have realised that parents, family and friends are always suspects in any murder or missing person case, however peripherally.

At any rate, I made a point or two to Miss Hoffman at some point, to which she took objection, and next thing threatened – if that is the right word – to report me to the AllVoices abuse team, or whatever, boasting that she was a supermoderator. Wow. I was impressed not. When I responded with a single sentence, I received the following message:

June 29, 2014

Re: Madeleine McCann

To ALEXANDER BARON

This issue has been forwarded to Daniel Roth/AllVoices.

Wow again! Shortly I received a message from Danny Roth asking me politely to refrain from contacting her. AllVoices was a bitter disappointment for me for reasons I have explained elsewhere, and after the site revamp I did not try too hard for readmission. I suspect Miss Hoffman did though, but clearly her pleas fell on deaf ears, very likely because of those who had been lobbying to remove her.

Her last message reminded me of the old saying that all bullies are cowards; this is not necessarily true but I couldn’t help but note that it was and is in her case. This is something I’ve noticed in the real world with (especially) women who are even more odious than Chelsea Hoffman. People who have big mouths should also have thick skins. Miss Hoffman is still peddling her wares elsewhere – including her phony academic qualifications – but with American universities continuing to offer degrees in such garbage as gender studies, they are probably no more worthless than many real ones.

Not everyone you meet on-line is as nasty as they sound; the political blogger Claire Khaw doesn’t understand the meaning of the word tact, a quality for which I have found little use myself, including in the real world. Khaw on the other hand means well, and I think most people realise I do, but Chelsea Hoffman is just plain nasty. And spineless with it.

Cameron’s Hypocrisy On The Charlie Hebdo Massacre

With France and Europe reeling in shock from this outrage, there was naturally widespread condemnation, including from our own Great Leader. While all such condemnation is to be welcomed, we should not allow either spin doctors or just plain idiots to use it to promote other agendas. Although he has been known to show backbone on occasion, David Cameron falls squarely into this latter camp, especially with his claim that this mass murder was an attack on freedom of the press and on free speech in general. Any Frenchman, any Englishman, indeed any European with nous would surely ask what free speech might that be?

The reality is that it is not only free speech but freedom in general that has been under unremitting attack in Europe this past half century and more, an attack which has had absolutely nothing to do with Islamism. If France is such a bastion of free speech, why more than thirty years ago did it drag a professor of literature into court for having the temerity to challenge the perceived (and erroneous) wisdom about the Nazi gas chambers?

In Germany and elsewhere, many Revisionist Historians have been subjected to legal persecution. To list them all would be tiresome, but they include Udo Walendy, whose crimes included possessing copies of Mein Kampf; Germar Rudolf – whom I have met – who was forced into exile; while fifteen years ago in Switzerland, Gaston-Armand Amaudruz was sentenced to a year in prison. And, perhaps most notoriously, in Canada, Ernst Zündel was subjected to horrendous persecution, but his trials ended with a bloody nose for his persecutors.

At least one Revisionist has been murdered, François Duprat was assassinated in March 1978, ironically in France. He was 38 years old.

If France is such a bastion of democracy, why over the past 13 years has it dragged the comedian Dieudonné M’bala M’bala into court time and time again on the most specious of charges and sought to ban his quenelle gesture?

In December 2006, an international conference on the Holocaust was held at Tehran; this could not have been held in “democratic” Germany on purely legal grounds, and in France it would have been impossible to hold due to organised left wing thuggery if not an outright ban by the authorities. How is it there is more freedom of intellectual debate and discussion on this issue in the Islamic theocracy of Iran than anywhere in “democratic” Europe? The usual specious response to such questions is that such discussions fall outside the remit of free speech and constitute hate, which is precisely the same argument used by those behind the Charlie Hebdo massacre and other such outrages, like those that followed the Danish blasphemous cartoon controversy.

This is a purely subjective view but having lived 58 years without drawing a blasphemous cartoon of the Prophet, I would gladly live another 58 years without doing so, but while I have no desire to add this gratuitous blasphemy to my bucket list, I cannot help but challenge orthodoxy when it is so clearly specious, and when such lies are backed up by the full coercive power of the state.

In the UK, there have been numerous contrived prosecutions under race relations legislation (so-called) including of then BNP leader Nick Griffin (twice), of geriatric Nazi the late Colin Jordan over a virtually unreadable satirical pamphlet, of many others, and on occasion of blacks and Moslems for similar “offences”.

Let us be clear about this, our freedoms are under attack not simply in relation to the Holocaust, the Jewish Question, racism or those other recently invented chimeras sexism and homophobia, in the UK, France, Europe and everywhere throughout the “civilised” (read white) world, but in respect of everything we do. You think not? Have you tried smoking a cigarette lately? Smoking is now as good as banned in most public places, small traders – who include many Moslems – are no longer permitted to smoke in their own shops.

Have you ever been arrested? Did you realise you can be arrested at the drop of a hat, if for example some demented person accuses you of a minor indecent assault that is said to have occurred ten, twenty or more years ago? Did you know that in the UK you can be arrested without warrant for practically anything, and that often as a matter of routine the police will seize your computer, back it up and lie about destroying the backups even after the case against you has been dropped?

Did you realise that on arrest the police will take your fingerprints “and” a DNA sample, both of which will be retained covertly even if you are acquitted? Or that you can be convicted even of sexual assault or murder on no evidence at all, on merely the words of a demented accuser, or on the strength of a fabricated cell confession from a self-confessed drug addict?

Did you realise that in the UK and almost certainly every other country in Europe and the “civilised” (read white) world the authorities trawl your e-mails and Internet activity? After all, if you’re not with us, you’re with the paedophiles, or the terrorists? Yes, they really do believe they should have the power to read everything you read, everything you write, and to tell you where the boundaries are drawn. In his essay The Facts About Rebellion, Charley Rees makes a startling observation about the then situation in Iraq under the rule of Saddam Hussein: “...like any other dictator, Saddam treats his political opponents harshly, but it’s also true that if you stay out of politics, you could live as freely in Baghdad as you can in New York City. Unlike a communist-style dictator, Saddam doesn’t give a damn what Iraqis think or do unless it involves a threat to his hold on power. There are two categories of dictators: totalitarians who want to control every aspect of a person’s life, and gangsters who just want to stay in power. Saddam is in the gangster category. Iraqi women, for example, are entitled to free education, just the same as men, and are free to choose any vocation they wish.”

Did you get that? Saddam Hussein was a gangster. No one could accuse either our leaders or the vested interests that whisper in their ears (Organised Jewry, the “wimmin’s” movement, the increasingly powerful and nasty gay lobby...) of being mere gangsters, rather they are tyrants who want to control everything we read, hear and see. More than that, they want to tell us not just what to think but what we are not allowed to think.

Lest it be forgotten, Charlie Hebdo was actually banned more than once in France, that same bastion of democracy that dragged the aforementioned academic – Robert Faurisson – into court on spurious hate crime charges.  

Nor has the UK been entirely free from the censorship of anti-religious bigotry, as is evinced by the notorious Gay News blasphemous libel trial of 1977. Ironically, today it is Christians who are more likely to face prosecution for daring to express their views on homosexuals rather than vice versa.

Sexual censorship in the UK was always more widespread than censorship on religious grounds; this led to the actor David Webb founding the pressure group NCROPA, which was extremely active in the 1980s.

Even today there are those who attempt to impose sexual censorship on newspapers and magazines, such as the ludicrous Lose The Lads Mags campaign and the equally ludicrous No More Page 3. The feminazis who run these campaigns do not of course claim they are attempting to censor the media, instead they use the specious rhetoric of combatting sexism – whatever that is – and have even tried to claim that such publications constitute a form of sexual harassment. Unsurprisingly, the attractive young women who pose for these magazines are not quite the bimbos they are made out to be, and most object strenuously to being told they can’t take off their clothes for whom they wish without the explicit permission of the sisterhood.

True, there is free speech in Britain after a fashion, for the housewife to her circle of intimates, for the factory worker on his lunch break, for the bricklayer in his local watering hole of a night time, but let us not kid ourselves this extends to the real world where power and influence are exerted. If David Cameron really believes there is free speech in France, in the UK or anywhere else in Europe, then he is a bigger fool than even those who think the murder of a bunch of anarchic cartoonists will make the world a better place.