The Curious Case of Harry Miller


Here’s a joke for you:

Knock knock!

Who’s there?

THE THOUGHT POLICE! You’re under arrest.

It’s not a very funny joke is it? Even less so being true – which would be bad enough in some godforsaken banana republic half way around the world, let alone right here in dear old Blighty. But this is the Brave New World order, don’t you know?

You may or may not have heard of the curious case of Harry Miller, the ex-police officer and Chairman of his own company, who had to endure a grilling from the new Gestapo – an LGBT Police Liaison Officer – about a retweet. Yes – you read that right – a RETWEET of a limerick. Of course by now you should have realised that this is bound to be a limerick about everybody’s favourite subsection of the human race; the transgender community.

It’s not a particularly good limerick, but we aren’t here to argue the pros and cons of what makes a decent rhyme. It’s the follow-up and reaction that has sent the shivers down this particular writer’s spine. As I have been here before, you see – though admittedly from an altogether more oblique angle.

As readers of this most esteemed publication are no doubt aware, I myself am a diagnosed, post-operative transsexual with more than 16 years of medical records regarding my inner battle with acute Gender Dysphoria. I have scars on my body that remind me daily of my story. (I seek no sympathy. I feel compelled to inform you of my own story as this situation renders my thoughts to Kryptonite in the face of the fascist types lurking in our once-respected force).

I simply don’t care if the LGBT police want to ‘check my thinking’, as happened to poor Harry (honestly, that is what the officer in question actually said to Harry!). No, as it happens, I welcome the interest from the Boys in Blue (and purple, green, yellow, orange and red – as seen in the subtle little embroidered rainbow badges they sport on their epaulettes). They are MORE than welcome to come knocking at my door any time! Arrest me, I say! Arrest me for the ‘Hate Crime’ of hating on myself with all manner of ‘hate speech’. Honestly – I DARE them -as I for one would relish my day in court! Utterly absurd as it would no doubt be!

My day in court is never going to happen. I am one of the few who know the truth and fight against the tide of the Rainbow Reich (which as a hashtag saw my first account on Twitter not only permanently suspended without reason, but also wiped from the public record). The likes of Stonewall and Mermaids know ALL about me I suspect, and steer a bloody wide berth around me as a result! I can get away with saying things FAR worse than poor Harry – who you should all go and follow on Twitter in a show of solidarity. I was convinced by Doctors – into whose hands I had placed both my life and my body – that getting my genitals surgically mutilated might make me happy while the Rainbow Reich, of whom I was totally unaware, no doubt chalked up another victory. I was another convert, another willing soldier. At the time I took comfort in knowing that these acolytes of Derrida, Lyotard and Foucault were cheering on from the side-lines as I dislodged another brick in the conservatives’ wall in the name of identity politics.

Now back to the case in hand:

Harry has spoken of just how disquieting it is to be told by a serving police officer that your thinking needs checking – and I can attest to the fact that, after having had human faeces stuffed through my letter-box by a member of said Rainbow Reich in Newcastle for my “failure to adhere to Trans Dogma” and my refusal to repeat the now well-worn mantra: “Transwomen are women”, I was put directly through to the LGBT Liaison Officer, to whom I explained in no uncertain terms that it was Hard Leftist Antifa transgenderists that were the perpetrators. I then offered up a brief history lesson about the notion of ‘policing by consent’ and I pointed out to them that THEY were only upholding the Law for ONE particular subset of ‘the community’ as LGBT liaison, and that THAT had is roots firmly planted in an ideology. I politely informed them that they were no longer the police, but the Gestapo.

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This call was of course recorded – and by the time I got through to the regular police via 999, my name was already flashing up on the screen, as I was answered in person. I insisted on being visited by regular officers and by the time they arrived the offending turd lay in a Tupperware box on the coffee-table between us. It was made plain during the conversation that ensued that there was no further action to be taken – and even more sinister, it was strongly implied that if anything untoward were to happen to me on the streets of Newcastle, the Police could be relied upon to be looking the other way.

I spent 18 months alone in a hostile environment after that – and I now no longer trust the Police at all. (I’d like to think that they aren’t all rotten to the core but living in Newcastle – the only place in the North of England that voted to Remain and yet another place that ‘Asian’ rape gangs appeared to operate with impunity for decades, topped off by an MP that actually said ‘racism is worse than rape’ – well, suffice it to say that all my sympathies lie with poor Harry.)

The only upside of all this is the fact that Twitter has become flooded with hilarious limericks – and you can likely guess who the brunt of the joke is.

The very serious question that all this raises is this: if a certain group of people become ‘protected’ by the police, then what is there to stop them acting in the most anti-social ways imaginable? Especially if they can then call the police out on you – for nothing more than expressing an opinion that echoes biological fact. The police turning up in their special rainbow-festooned uniform to boot!

A far as I am concerned, that rainbow icon is something to be afraid of now. And with Harry’s high-profile case only adding to the many more that lurk unreported, I would suggest that everyone else be extremely wary of the rainbow too – especially on a police uniform.

What? Have I said too much? Or have YOU had too much to think?

See you in court!


Here’s the “limerick” in question:
You’re a man.
Your breasts are made of silicone
Your vagina goes nowhere
And we can tell the difference
Even when you are not there
Your hormones are synthetic
And lets just cross this bridge
What you have you stupid man
Is male privilege.

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