Tiers Before Bedtime

BY TARQUIN SUTHERLAND

Is the fact that we appear to be staggering blindly into a two-tier society worth crying about? It should be. Tears of remorse, maybe? Or as in ‘for crying out loud’?

The comedian Geoff Norcott recently cracked a gag about the position we have found ourselves in, it goes:

Person 1: “Do you regret voting for a Conservative government?”

Person 2: “I regret not getting one!”

And that just about sums it up. The Boris we have ended up with is NOT the person we all voted for to get us out of the mess we were in back then. That mess is now gargantuan. There’s a fuss on so many fronts that it’s hard to keep up and it seems that great swathes of the British public have simply switched off.

The proposed Police, Crime, Sentencing & Courts Bill shall hand the kind of powers to our police forces that they might have once only ever dreamt about. We all know what happens when a police force are handed ever more power on a silver platter. They most certainly don’t ever hand these powers back. Our right to gather and peacefully protest governmental overreach will be seriously curtailed as and when (not ‘if’) it becomes law. It shall mean that the police can define a single person standing on a street corner with a placard as being a literal riot.

Consider this alongside the current trend for police forces in the UK to spend inordinate amounts of taxpayers’ money on courses run by the Stonewall organisation that prominently feature Critical Race Theory and Transgender Ideology along with instilling a hefty dollop of ‘white guilt’ on any of the poor people sitting there being brainwashed and suffering the sheer bad luck of having been born without enough melanin in their skin pigmentation to make them truly magical human beings incapable of doing any wrong.

The only option left in scaling the heights of the so-called ‘progressive stack’ is to be a homosexual – and we are quietly seeing more and more people from the LGBT QIA+ community being recruited and sporting the omnipresent rainbow icon as little embroidered badges on their epaulets. This is, of course – along with the multi-coloured clown cars that are also very generously paid for by the poor, downtrodden UK taxpayer which the police no doubt drive to the nearest Extinction Rebellion protester that’s glued themselves to a motorway to offer them a cup of tea if it’s just all a bit too much for them to handle. Bless.

The real insult to the nation – and in particular those ex-Labour voters that reside in the so-called ‘Red Wall’ – is that this is all happening under a supposedly Conservative government with a majority in the house of 82 seats.

Let us be frank here: the Boris we got is not the Boris we all voted for in the last General Election. The only silver lining to this manufactured cloud is the fact that we didn’t end up with Jeremy Corbyn overseeing the ever-unfolding shambles, but I digress…

The simple fact of the matter is that we have allowed our Police to become politicised and brainwashed by fringe lunatics. We are no longer ‘policed by consent’ and have ended up with a de facto Gestapo of the Rainbow Reich.

Scarily, this modern, secular pseudo-religion into which those from the state’s apparatus have pretty much all been indoctrinated has all the prerequisite insanity baked into it to see it descend into some kind of warped 21st Century version of the Spanish Inquisition – and as the grievance archaeologists dig furiously back through our internet histories in the hope of unearthing something innocuous we once said in a probably flippant manner that can now be held up to the world, (probably on Twitter) as being ‘offensive’, thereby deeming the said individual worthy only of being ‘cancelled’ as the weirdo cringe fringe of the Left high five each other on yet another successful exercise in their wokus-pokus.

Lives ruined, reputations torn to smithereens and some of the poor sods making the mistake of attempting to apologise in what can only be described as public ‘struggle sessions’, which are an utterly pointless performance because once one has been tarred and feathered in such a way there really is no coming back.

The trolls don’t care who they go for – all of us that still insist on attempting to form original thoughts in our heads are heretics and guilty of ‘non crime hate incidents’. If one is lucky, one might just get a knock on the door one evening from an officer to literally ‘check your thinking’. How long do we all think it will take before the police are kicking those doors down at 5.00am and dragging you off to the Gulag for being ‘transphobic’?

And again, I reiterate: all this under a now obviously apocryphal Tory government! It’s almost as if Boris Johnson has been replaced; Invasion of the Body Snatchers style, and we now have to put up with this creepy facsimile that appears to not only be under the thumb of his latest wife, but her green fingers too. He’s even blatantly plagiarised Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, in blathering on about a ‘Green New Deal’. The crazy thing is that even as he clowns around pretending to be a leader of some sort, the Opposition is so pathetic as to not even be worth mentioning. Boris has stolen their thunder, but in doing so he has lost the opportunity to completely change the face of British society without so much as a by your leave.

So, here we are – one can glue oneself to a motorway just outside London and be offered a cup of tea – or even pull a statue down in Bristol, roll it to the quayside and chuck it in the water as the Police stoically look on without lifting a finger – or even riot through the capital city scrawling words on plinths and smashing windows as the brainwashed political police take the Marxist knee before being chased down the street.

It would appear that the only real opposition to this grotesque, soft centre Left ‘conservative’ government must come from within the party – and it must come soon. Now. Yesterday…. before it’s too late, as I can guarantee that pretty much everyone reading this won’t be in the top tier of this fast-emerging new Britain. Even with Brexit, all that’s happened is that we’ve moved into the slow lane and our eyes have misted up with fabricated nostalgia as we go up hill and down dale with notions of thatched cottages and cobbled streets, and we don’t realise in our distracted state that our destination is the same as it ever was: Globalism.

Why should any of us be happy about living on the lower rung of a two-tier society?

It’s enough to make me cry you a river.