Why the Left Hate


As a card-carrying leftist, I’m often asked why I despise the right so much. It’s a fascinating question with a variety of intelligent answers, though my personal favourite is ‘f*** off, you fascist melt’.

But considering the chronic inability of righties to empathise, feel compassion or argue their points without resorting to abuse, it’s baffling why anyone wouldn’t hate them. Indeed, from regularly winning elections to insisting that people like me should work for a living, right-wingers couldn’t be less lovable if they outlawed Islam and banned Lily Allen.

And by far their greatest sin is their heinous lack of respect for the sanctity of government, in particular the way they devalue our elected leaders by NOT treating them like selfless superheroes committed to changing our lives for the better because we’re incapable of doing it ourselves.

Sure, Thatcher attracted adoring crowds of racist xenophobes in Union Jack underpants, and Trump has an army of red-capped devotees fighting his corner by calling people ‘cucks’ on the internet. But by and large the right selfishly eschew the kind of hero worship the left indulge in, preferring their governments to have as little to do with them as possible. (Especially those evil libertarians, who I know nothing about but have heard are basically just Nazis who don’t like crowds.)

Because as well as being selfish imperialists, right-wingers are also shockingly ignorant, blissfully unware that throughout history everything good that happened to anyone ever was because of politicians. And yes, when I say ‘politicians’ I mean the left-wing ones.

Similarly, the blame for the bad stuff can also be laid at their door, though it’s vital when studying mistakes made by left-wing regimes we analyse them without bias before deciding they were probably the right’s fault too.

Which explains why we hate them so much. As Butch Willis said in True Romance: they’re messing with our sport.

Because when your entire belief system is defined by a love affair with the state, the last thing you want is that state being run by people you disagree with. We can all dream of a sensible society in which every aspect of our lives is monitored and approved by nice liberal politicians but what happens when those politicians are neither nice nor liberal?

Well, to see what happens simply flick through a copy of The Guardian or spend five minutes on Twitter. Then weep. For the country, for the planet, but most of all for the brave left-wingers forced to watch the Tories abuse their power to benefit the privileged few. Instead of doing the decent thing and abusing their power to benefit teenage class-warriors who think Che Guevara was a social worker.

Luckily, all over social media a seething hatred for the right has been gathering Momentum (ha!), its ultimate goal to destroy the white supremacist cult of individualism and forge a golden future in which we all become one homogenous prole-blob of blind devotion.

And this movement has gone from strength to strength, attracting all manner of proud liberals incapable of taking a crap without the guidance of career politicians from Islington who wouldn’t know an honest day’s work if it dropped a ton of bricks on their second home in Florence.

You need only look at the erotically charged way pro-EU zealots gush over their favourite European leaders to understand why we on the left have such head-splitting contempt for right-wing hawks and their numbskull followers.

Only last month Remain die-hards were creaming their blue and yellow knickers over Emmanual Macron, calling him ‘the most exciting young politician in the world’, lauding him as ‘a genuine business success’, and lamenting how pathetic Theresa May seemed in comparison. Indeed, so fulsome was some of the praise it was easy to forget they weren’t talking about an edgy rock star but some rich banker whose only vaguely exciting deed to date was marrying his own mother.

But you don’t need excitement when you have a sharp suit, a killer smile, and a stubborn belief in an unworkable authoritarian creed that results in murder and poverty every time it’s implemented by some moustachioed nugget in camouflage trousers.

One only has to remember the wise words of the High Priest of Kool-Aid Corbynism, Aaron Pastrami, the absolute boy who last year declared the 2017 election was the best night of his life. Which I’m sure it was if you’ve never been to a gig, taken recreational drugs, or had sex with a human.

But commitment to an ideology leaves no time for such excess. And if that means getting deliriously excited about losing an election to the weakest government in recent history or lionising a suave socialist bean-counter with a penchant for necking with old women then so be it.

And while I’m the last person to say anything nice about Blairites, at least their dedication to eulogising their fallen idol and parroting his anti-Brexit soundbites has put them on the right side of one argument. It won’t save them from the gulag and the gallows but at least when they’re burning in hell they can say they went down like true leftists: crying, fighting democracy and sneering at the uneducated masses.

So that, in an ethically correct nutshell, is why I hate the right. And if you disagree with anything I’ve written rest assured I hate you too.

Hugs and kisses.