Do you know, it’s much easier to be bland; keep taking the pills and let the world pass you by without opinion.  Me?  I don’t take pills and as for having no opinion, you’d have to be a gate post in this climate!  Today, I just don’t know where to begin.  I am angry.  The world – and this country, in particular – is a shambles!   Those in positions of authority are ego-driven.  In the absence of unity, each is working to his/her own agenda whether it be individual or country.  So it is that today, once more, one learns of yet another MP considering herself above ‘the law’.  What ‘law’?  Government ‘laws’ put in place without any democratic vote – for the good of the nation.  The Coronavirus Act 2020.  Licence to dictate … anything!  Take a glimpse at this Act which came into being approximately six months ago.  It grants ‘emergency’ power to over-ride the entire legislation of this country, seemingly, and there is nothing we can do about it!  There was the opportunity to vote against its renewal in Parliament earlier this week; however, only 24 of our tax-funded MPs had the gumption to do so with 194 too disinterested to even pick up the pen!  So it is that we, the many, have submitted to the dictatorship of the few with no further opportunity to revoke said Act for six months at least – but that could change.  Lockdown, curfews, the denial of social contact, the power of arrest … the infringement of civil liberty; life as we knew it.  Where is this going to end?

Neil Ferguson, Catherine Calderwood, Dominic Cummings … Margaret Ferrier.  Enough!  Utterly farcical, these beings do not give a hoot about the good of the country.  Rather, it is the power which makes them tick; the platform enabling them to dictate to the little people while doing what the hell they like themselves!  As I said in a recent post, the once exposed Neil Ferguson has crawled back out of the woodwork, brass neck intact but even his misdemeanour pales into insignificance in light of the SNP MP, Margaret Ferrier …. Since the end of March, we, as a nation, have been subjected to blatant subjugation attributed to a virus which is, predominantly, a threat to the elderly and vulnerable.  So is the flu!  Twenty-four-hour scaremongering at the hands of every media outlet has ensured mass hysteria on a scale ensuring mass obedience.  The police have the power to enforce – anything.  There is the threat of huge fines for anyone who chooses to exercise common sense or, God forbid, intelligence.  For, let’s face it, nobody wants to be ill.  Nobody wishes to endanger the lives of their loved ones.  Given that is so, each one of us should have the right to make our own assessment of risk.  This is not a communist regime.  This is a democracy.  The problem is the human propensity for greed and power and this virus has unleashed the evil genie from the bottle, perhaps never to be returned.

Take another shot of courage!  No Tequila?  Where the hell is George Clooney when you need him?  I mean, are we still allowed in a pub?  Yes, if one sits on one’s own like Billy-no-mates, having booked and then offered up one’s personal details!  On the other hand, one could be Margaret Ferrier or Jeremy Corbyn, for that matter.  Dear Margaret felt unwell last Saturday; in fact, sufficiently unwell to covet a COVID test from somewhere – probably her handbag!  Anyway, awaiting results, instead of self-isolating for 14 days –as dictated to the masses – she decided to travel down to Westminster on Monday requiring many forms of public transport, not least a five-hour train journey.  Not quite sure of the timing, here but, suffice to say, she received the result of her COVID test, it being positive, that day.  La de da!  She chose to deliver her speech (?) in Parliament that evening – one can only surmise the subject matter – and, then, in the full knowledge of her infection, proceeded to embark on the journey back to Glasgow the following day.  Why not?  Answers on a sheet of A4!  She is an MP, for goodness sake; an SNP MP, to boot; an SNP MP who waded in with her tuppence worth apropos the Dominic Cummings fiasco, what’s more!  In truth, she is a nobody who believes she is a somebody.  Big mistake!

Bring on old Jeremy!  Anyone for supper?  Ah, that makes nine of us.  No worries.  I was Labour Leader for however long, a public figure who should adhere to the Rule of Six but … who’s going to know?  I’m in!  Oh, yes, another bottle of wine would be lovely.  A photo?  Why not?  Always good to capture the memory of me, Jeremy Corbyn – a man of the people – flouting the rule for the people!  I mean, who’s going to see it …?

No surprise.  No words.  However, I might add that the obligatory token black person – now a requirement alongside the regular white journalist on This Morning’s news slot – deemed Stanley Johnson’s demeanour of visiting a local newsagent without a mask far more worthy of admonishment than Jeremy Corbyn blatantly flouting the Rule of Six at a dinner party for nine!  How could that be?  Rhetorical question.  Stanley Johnson has committed the cardinal crime of being posh; the embodiment of white privilege.  Jeremy Corbyn, on the other hand?  Well, he’s just Jeremy; man of the people, for the people

On the day when Donald and Melania tested positive for COVID-19, in this cesspit of a world, an air of derision abounds.  I wish no part of it.  This all-consuming focus on the virus, however, bleeds many consequences, one such being the unbridled advancement of the ‘woke’ extremists.  Infiltrating the very bastions of society, it would seem the entire nation has been taken hostage, too weak to protest.  Prince Harry embodies the very image as the once courageous, fun-loving, much-loved and respected young man is wheeled out by his ambitious, manipulative wife, now reduced to nothing more than her mouthpiece.  Piers Morgan’s suggestion that the SAS be sent to rescue him is no jest …  However, perhaps the most heinous news is that of the setting up of a digital Parliamentary ‘solidarity and support’ wall as staff are urged to profess their ‘privilege’ while pledging their support for BAME (Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic) colleagues.  Take a look at the following article in The Telegraph of 20th September: .  Halfway down, there is the following paragraph:

‘Messages include: “I am a white, privately educated middle-class female’’ and: “I am a white man and from that privileged position I now see that I can’t ever fully understand the relentless impact of racism.”’

Sinister in the extreme, the hands which typed these words belong to those who are prepared to denounce themselves; their very being.  Why should anyone apologise for his/her birthright?  To quote the eloquent Laurence Fox, ‘To call me a white privileged male is to be racist.’  Absolutely!  I am beyond anger.  Rather, it makes me sick to the pit of my stomach that these left-wing, ‘poor me’ extremists are, now, sufficiently empowered to bully innocent victims into submission.  This has nothing to do with racism and everything to do with class.

Finally, as if I haven’t sufficiently documented my disgust at this callous, lost world, a word about  Knight Frank, the UK’s leading independent real estate consultancy; a name synonymous with prestige.  Today, they posted on LinkedIn that the Company has been shortlisted for the EG Superhero Award, ‘a new category looking to showcase and celebrate #companies that have “demonstrated superhero-like qualities during the coronavirus pandemic.”’  How, exactly, would one define ‘superhero-like qualities’?  ‘Letting go’ a 27-year-old employee at the end of March – a month from completion of his six-month probation – depriving him of his perceived future career in a job he was good at and one which he had worked so hard to secure?  Moreover, preventing him from being furloughed, cut loose without any income?  Worse!  The commission he had earned and which was rightly his?  Check the small print.  If one is no longer employed by Knight Frank then one is no longer eligible for outstanding commission!  Nothing!  Those he thought were his friends – including the dogs upon whose unfaltering loyalty he could depend, unlike their owners – no more.  A short, sharp lesson in superhero requirements?  On the contrary, a lesson in the dispendable.  The sadness lies in the reality behind the name.  The villain behind the guise.  A reminder, once again, that all that glitters is not gold …

Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing.  That you will stay who you are.  Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.’ 

Captain America

I wish …

This is Trish, signing off.