A few of the many sets of buzz-words or –phrases popular within Party-political circles is “Are we message-good? Are we on track? Are we reaching our base; our core?” The Party faithful, or ‘the core’, are known to respond to command phrases which fit their belief profiles; but what happens when the Party changes, or alters, and the core doesn’t?
My son, a micro-electronics engineer, works in the automotive industry in the North-East, and a great many of his mainly male work-colleagues give their loyalty to the Labour Party; the “Party of the working Man”. My late eldest brother, my late father, were also life-long Labour supporters, On the map of voting intentions, where I live, County Durham is part of a Labour red block which goes against the vast spaces of Tory blue throughout the rest of England, We are, in reality, a rural area with the vast open moors of Northumberland and of Durham; with the inherited memories of an industrial heritage; of shipbuilding, armaments, coal-mining and steel: but with the emphasis on the ‘heritage’; because the ship-slips and cranes have all fallen silent, the Chieftain & Challenger tank factory is shuttered, the mines have disappeared, and the steel is hanging on by it’s veritable fingertips. But the Labour Party counts its support up here by the bucket-full; the ‘red’ seats are safe from Blyth to Newcastle, from Sunderland south to Durham.
But I do wonder why this ‘tribal loyalty’ still exists,
when the Party which engenders and hopes for, and to a certain degree depends on the support of that ‘working man’ seems to have morphed into a metrosexual, femininised, elitist-run Party which laughs at the St. George’s flags on a house, or sneers at the ‘white vans’ of their male voting base, whilst promoting a ‘pink van’ for the Labour ‘wimmin’ who, incidentally, wouldn’t be seen dead in that pink monstrosity, or anything near it. When much younger than today,
I knew many local Labour politicians, and read about and watched many national Labour people; and there was one thing which separated them from every other Political animal around, and that was the simple truth that they literally exuded ‘integrity’ by the cubic yard. No swerving, no compromising, no ‘hedging bets’; for the old-style Labour man, you just couldn’t mistake them for any other. They were given the trust of the Labour voters because those voters knew that behind the face on the placard was one of their own; a man who had come up the hard way, had earned that trust through sweat, and pain, and manual exertion combined with skills acquired over years of training. Men like Dennis Skinner, the legendary ‘Beast of Bolsover’; who wouldn’t now how to spell ‘accomodating alternate philosophy’, never mind know what it meant.
And then along comes, or rather slithers, Tony Blair, and his sidekick spinman Alastair Campbell, together with the genuine thief (see Hindujah for verification) and all-round bent pillock named Mandelson, whose one real claim to fame was spoken whilst visiting a fish-and-chip shop in his target seat of Hartlepool. He spotted the regulation container of ‘mushy peas’ and remarked to his agent “I see they serve ‘guacamole’ up here.” This greasy trio remade the face and soul of Labour, disguising it quite well; and, through loads of spin’, not just a hillock but a veritable mountain of lies, more than a few threats along with a couple of bloodless assassinations: made ‘New Labour’ sparkly clean and electable. But once the changes commenced coming, the hierarchy could not stop and the Party steering was grabbed by the atrocious Patricia Hewitt, the humourless Harriet Harman and the bossy tones of the Guardian’s favourite; Polly Toynbee, the epitome of everything which goes by the title of ‘Champagne Socialism’, and what do you get?
Why, you get a Party which ignores the true maternal instinct which tells a mother that the most important thing is to nurture your children, and instead urges; nay, almost expects them to work, albeit at ‘gender-neutral’ rates of pay, so that they may feel ‘fulfilled’ What they have got is the ideal that women are the equal of men, and the very idea that men can do anything better than women, or able to take on extra responsibilities; is deemed, by the clutch of Female & Feminist Marxists who have taken control of the Party, to be both ‘patriarchal, off-message, and something to be stamped out at all costs. Labour seems to have lost touch with the founding ideal of full male employment, and altered it to be read as full female employment, with the men following along behind. When the movers of the Party are all women, and come as a collective, and a Marxist Feminist collective at that; with names such as Harman, Flint, Toynbee, Thornberry(a.k.a. Lady Nugee, the wife of High Court judge Sir Christopher Nugee), of Labour, alongside Jenni Murray of ‘Wimmins’ Hour’, there is no stopping them. They are uninterested in anything apart from the full ‘feminisation’ of Labour, and in the end, there will not only be ‘women-only’ candidates’ lists; there will be only Women candidates.
Ignore, if you will, the ‘soul-searching’ heat of the avalanche of names being added for the title of Labour Leader; the real Leaders are the Macbeth cabal of witches, allied with the hard-left Union leaders which are Labour’s bankers.
There are signs that the true heart of Labour is stirring, and moving away from the tribal vote, viz. the vote for UKIP in my own constituency, up by a total of 9.6% from five years ago, so if we can get the local herd to both read and understand what has been done to their Party, perhaps we shall see a UKIP MP representing Durham City, in about five or ten years time: now that’s what I call progressive politics!
Fire, Pillage & Plague 