Our Saviour Jeremy Corbyn


Some have questioned what drives Jeremy Corbyn’s recent surge in popularity, but if you have to ask, you should be regarded with suspicion. Because Jeremy Corbyn is, simply, a good man. He hugs people. He cares and is empathetic, he will provide and protect. Forgiving and incorruptible, he nods, divines, and heals.

But don’t question him, because his powers require devotion. Lend him your faith, unconditionally, and there will be no limit to what can be achieved. He is the conduit for the collective, and so collected we must be. Deviation threatens the greater good and besides, we’ve already established that we are good, so if you disagreed, what would that make you?

Might there be violence? Unfortunately, yes, but only in order to dispatch those who would stand in the way of progress. And just to make sure that you don’t feel bad for those at the blunt end of our zeal, we’ll organise a little chant, mob up, and dehumanize them so you can attack without restraint or regret. You see, they’re not even people really. They’re far-right Tory scum oppressors, who use vile tools of state tyranny such as freedom of speech and democratic elections to maintain their fairly decided, majority-endorsed right to govern.

Unlike the despotic elected government though, Corbyn can do all things. If you’re from an ethnic minority, then he’ll unlock your talent. Trust in this career Socialist, who has two A Levels at grade E, and no experience of work outside trade unions and Westminster, to guide you to success and show you how to better yourself.

Furthermore, Corbyn is a repository of high grade compassion. Do you remember his profound words when asked whether Theresa May cared about the victims of the Grenfell disaster? Sagely, and with infinite restraint, he let it be known that, “everybody cares to an extent, some to a deeper extent”.

Yes, Corbyn cares more deeply. His emotions are divine, untainted, perhaps not fully comprehensible to  hate-filled Conservative monsters. When Corbyn embraces you, you might sense for a moment the bottomless reservoir of universal love that exists within him. And if he doesn’t hug you, and leaves you for Owen Jones’ frothing mob instead, you can be sure that the decision was taken in wisdom: for the many, not the few. Certainly not for you.

The Hezbollah-hugger’s brilliance is so otherworldly, that he can even solve inequality where none exists. Speaking to the Glastonbury hive mind, he said he wanted all children “to have the right to write poetry, to paint, to make music”.

Inshallah, those regressive, imaginary restrictions on children writing, painting, and making music will finally be lifted. Steel drums and marimbas will be distributed by the state, and the towns and cities of Britain will spontaneously erupt with radical left-wing street parties, in which ragged urchins bang out avant-garde minimal-Calypso renderings of Rag’n’Bone Man and the Libertines.

At a rally last weekend, Labour’s IRA-idolising iconoclast pointed out that he would reverse the trend preventing working class young people from attending university, even though there is no such trend, and more people from low income homes go to university now than ever before.

Is there any other leader with such miraculous abilities to fix injustice, whether it’s there or not? And as for those foreign workers at Glastonbury on zero hours contracts, exploited by the event organisers in order to cut costs, while Corbyn himself appeared on stage to deliver his message of social justice? Ah sorry, no, they’re not part of the narrative. They must be the Few too.

But don’t think about that, just fall in line and let your consciousness dissolve. Our jihadi-genial vegetarian saviour is faultless, infallible, and backed by an entire musical genre. So let Russell Brand dribble lies about dead dictators into your ear, while Ruby Tandoh guards the door, muttering about what a prick you are. You needn’t have original thoughts anymore, we’ll provide those. Just grab a placard and give yourself up to the greater good.

You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Sam White is a writer for Country Squire Magazine and has written for The Spectator & Metropolis. Other Sam White articles can be found by using the search box below (just type in Sam White) and also by looking here.

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