The BNP vs Ruthless Political Sardines

In a bid to prove to the Equality and Human Rights Commission that the BNP are in fact a reasonable and modern representation of working class Britain and not at all a repackaged fascist party, Nick Griffin has apparently today asked his members to vote to amend the party's constitution, so that it no longer restricts membership to "indigenous Caucasian" people, whatever that may mean.

Quite bizarre news in itself (and clearly an incredibly tempting if ill-advised opportunity for the Daily Mail to use its 'Political Correctness Gone Mad!' headline-generator). But stranger still was discovering that a number of non-"indigenous Caucasian" callers to 5 Live thought this was all a marvelous idea because they actually wanted to join the BNP. Could it be April Fools? Surely not, not in October.

Yes that's right: apparently sane people phoning in to tell the nation just how glad they were that they can at last join the British fascist party that openly regards their presence as a blemish on this country. What on Earth was going on here? Fortunately I had 15 minutes before my lunch hour was up, and was in possession of a casual attitude towards time-keeping.

In fairness to Gilmor from West London, of African origin, he did explain that his plans to join the BNP were part of a 'subversion from within' strategy. Gilmor didn't suffer fools gladly, picking holes in the arguments of all-comers with an admirably combative intellectualism. In fact he bordered on belligerent arrogance much of the time, barking and snapping at callers that he deemed unworthy of sharing his airtime. I liked Gilmor a lot. At one point he interrupted Chris from Bradford, a BNP voter (and therefore presumably a member of Gilmor's intended voting base?), in order to give him a history lesson. Gilmor painstakingly explained how Britain, far from being "built on democracy" as Chris claimed, was actually "built from the life blood of black people" at a time when Britain did not have any resources of its own to speak of: at this point the tension literally arced from my car aerial and electrocuted an innocent passer-by.

Even more remarkable though was Andre, also a black man brought up in this country, and by his own account a successful businessman. In keeping with the surrealism of the phone-in, Andre wanted to join the BNP too. His motives seemed quite different to those of Gilmor, although at first just what those motives were remained tantalisingly elusive.

Andre explained that he felt that the problems with the BNP stemmed from ignorance, and that if they would only spend some time getting to know what black and Asian people were like they would probably find that they got along just fine.

"Possibly so," I fumed to the empty car, "but dammit man, that doesn't sufficiently explain why you should want to join a political party that would have prevented your parents from coming here in the first place, and therefore prevented you from being born in the country that you love!"

I sensed that presenter Victoria Derbyshire shared my frustrations, but having the sensibilities of a nation to consider rather than those of an empty Vauxhall Cavalier, she took a more measured line of questioning. Andre though was unwavering in his conviction, and when asked if he was not offended by the fact that until now he would have been banned from being a member due to his ethnic heritage explained that "you have to rise above it."

I entered work bewildered and late. However, the more I thought about Andre during the afternoon, the more I came to like him. It's actually impossible not to: go ahead, try it. Although at first frustrated by what I had deemed to be his inability to satisfactorily articulate his arguments, it soon became clear that he was just really, really nice. Far nicer than I could ever comprehend. And then it dawned on me that perhaps he had spotted a brilliantly ironic use for his powerfully disarming personality.

What if Andre and others like him really did join the BNP? Imagine it, all these confused skinheads sat looking at each other as Andre and his family came into the conference hall, all smiles and handshakes. And what if then more and more of their friends and families began to join? And then in a generation's time we would have second generation Afro-Caribean BNP members.

But wait. Wouldn't the most extreme members merely split from the BNP and form the Real BNP?

Not a problem, Andre and his crack team of Moderating Influences could join the Real BNP: the precedent has now been set after all, he must be allowed to join. So just as the inaugral meeting of the twenty or so most hardcore right-wingers in the country is about to kick-off in the dimly lit function room above the Fist And Boot pub, the door opens and there's Andre and his crew, greeting everyone with a cheery wave.

The BNP would be a broken party, how could it possibly continue in the face of such ruthless political sardines?

And if you're wondering what actually constitutes an "indigenous Caucasian" person, here is BNP spokesperson Chris Roberts absolutely failing to explain it to the BBC today.

The Case for Apathy?

Lurching into our line of sight again like a soiled hobo staggers the distasteful spectacle of the MPs expenses saga, thanks to Sir Thomas Legg's report. And we, like embarrassed onlookers, are posed again with the moral dilemma as to how we should feel about this degrading display. Are we angry? Ashamed of our fellow humanity? Or do we wish it would just piss off and leave us alone?

The idea that MPs are on the make in order to top-up what they consider to be their insufficient salaries is pretty insulting. £64,766 not enough to pay for your hobnobs? Aw, poor love. But it's how crushingly predictable the typical MP's response is that usually results in my having to be restrained from hurling objects and nearby animals at the television.

Mr Career-Politician [with little furrows of concern on his forehead to stress just how earnest he is]:

"I understand the public anger completely, and in fact I have tried hard since being elected to change this system, and I think this a very important inquiry, and that's why I blah blah blah."

It's almost cheering to hear that some cheeky bastards are threatening to defy the inquiry: maybe they've got a point - the system let them get away with it for years, who wouldn't screw extra money out of the public purse given the chance? At least it's more dignified than listening to Alan Duncan say with sincerity that "the whole house of commons needs to apologise for the mess that has arisen" only days after a cringe worthy (and frankly disturbing) appearance on Have I Got News For You where he bragged like a smug, dim-witted little tit about the "fabulous system" that allowed him to claim for a second home.

But as a public we've been battered into submission, into accepting this barefaced bullshit as a fact of life, to accept that MPs talk to us in doublespeak that no-one else would even consider using. When did they get like this? I don't mean historically, I mean as individuals. Are they taught on day one at Westminster? Presumably it's the same PR agency that advises footballers and their managers on how to handle the media: whereby post-match interviews become a remarkable study in speaking for minutes at a time without relaying a single piece of information; and the same agency that tutors reality TV stars in the dark-arts of how, following an extended period of doing absolutely nothing at all except play degrading games for the benefit of a braying public, to then talk about their 'personal journeys' and how they've 'really grown as a person'. Where else could you get away with speaking this appalling nonsense without being hounded out of town by an enraged mob imploring "please stop that, that's bollocks"?

It can't be healthy for us to have grown so accustomed to seeing politicians get away with such barefaced dishonesty. And yet it goes on right in front of us every day and we don't even blink: liars and thieves barely preventing themselves from shrilly giggling "look at what I'm getting away with, it's fucking unbelievable!" as they sail off for a term as president of the EU.

And breath. I'm all worked up and pissed-off now, and with little-to-no-chance of resolving any of the things that lead me to question our position at the top of the evolutionary tree. And look at all of those lot sat over there reading OK Magazine, sat there with nay a bother in the world. Tony who? Hmm.

Perhaps what appears to be apathy is in fact a well developed psychological defense mechanism? How fucking depressing.

Hello there world

So, I have created a blog. Probably what the world needed: one more blog.