Nasty Little Men


This week’s attack on Jacob Rees-Mogg and his children was despicable but should come as no surprise. Rees-Mogg and his family were ambushed by protesters outside his home in Westminster. Footage posted on Tuesday by Class War, an organisation claiming to be a “working class action group”, showed police standing guard as a small group of demonstrators confronted the Conservative MP, his wife, four of his six children, and their nanny.

“Your dad won’t answer the question,” one man tells two of Mr Rees-Mogg’s children, after Rees-Mogg refused to reveal how much their nanny was paid. “Your daddy’s a totally horrible person, lots of people don’t like your daddy, do you know that? He’s probably not told you about that. Lots of people hate him.”

The protester continues to accuse Mr Rees-Mogg of failing to adequately pay the family nanny, and of disregarding the London Living Wage: “Poor Nanny Crook who looks after you and wipes your bottom, she doesn’t get enough money every week. Daddy doesn’t care,” he says.

The protester involved is a nasty, little man called Ian Bone. The son of a butler, Bone has never had a job and lived on benefits his whole life. He published “Bash the Rich: True Life Confessions of an Anarchist in the UK” in 2006, available on Amazon for a very capitalist £24.93, which the only reviewer – of what might best be classed as a rabid rant – aptly describes as “as boring as watching a pot of water boil.”

These drop-outs have their own pitiful stories that make them who they are. Son of a butler, great-grandfather sent to Oz on a prison ship, mum a cleaner at a public school …. they tend to be “males” with huge chips on their shoulders … likely bullied-at-school-turned-bullies themselves.

The real problem with the likes of self-describing anarchists like Bone is that they tarnish the word anarchy and genuine anarchists like Dayal and Russell who have gone before. These dweebs like Bone do not stand for anarchy at all – they stand for envy. And, frankly, without these kind of sad stunts, without the Internet which pushes to the attention of the masses the words of these nutters in ways like never before, Bone would be just that stereotypical, sad, little, envious troll in his dusty attic – surrounded by cut-out images of his successful targets – deluded into thinking that he derived some special worth in this world by pestering them. Such people live off reaction – best to just ignore them.

All material online about Bone suggests he is just another nutter on the bus:

Unfortunately I know his sort well.

In 2014 one of my work colleagues received a private message on Facebook from a privilege-checking troll – another nasty, little man like Bone, who occupies a dusty attic off a busy road in a shabby street on the south coast. In the message, the troll made a case of pointing out that he represented “those who have not enjoyed the privileged background that he (Wightman) himself takes for granted.” With those few words my troll undid his smear. For he let slip that, actually, anything he pretended that he stood for came a far second to the hate coursing through his veins because of his own sad, little life. He became impossible to take seriously – his protests became projection – he became an Ian Bone. He sent another long green-ink message to another work colleague of mine in 2016 and again he undid his smear by using similar words of envy. He is now becoming – like Bone – a sad old man who has spent his whole adult life being jealous of people better educated and with more money than him.

What should be done about these pests?

One option is to lamp them. But that is what they want, so that is a course of action one should best avoid. The best course of action is to log their actions, work with the authorities and keep abreast of legislation which is fast developing in this area and leads to their undoing.

These trolls should get out more. Annoy people less. And go find the thousands of sound Brits who have been born with no privilege (as if being born to any family is anything less than roulette in the first place) – those who have gone on to make positive contributions in the world and produce privileged offspring.

It must be really hard being one of these privilege checkers. I genuinely feel pity for them. It must be tough getting up each morning and seeing what they see in the mirror. But they have a choice – sit there accumulating police notices for harassment and cost us all a fortune living like sponges, or do something positive with their lives; do the right thing. We live in hope.

Last word to Ponte Jack – a good friend of the magazine – who is right about everything: