By Ben Pensant
Well that didn’t take long, did it? PM Corbyn’s signature was barely dry on the Number Ten rent book and the PLP plotters were up to their old tricks, undoing all that recent good work kissing Jezza’s hoop by stabbing him in the back before you could say ‘Et tu, Bluto?’. It’s in their nature, like that frog that ate the penguin.
And all because slap-headed virgin Chuka Umoaner was too impatient to wait for the Dear Leader to unveil his ingenious plan to stop Brexit. Because make no mistake, there’s not a cat in hell’s chance Corbyn actually wants us to exit the single market and customs union. Despite quite literally saying he does. And the idea that someone as kind and gentle as Jezza would ever dream of ending free movement is frankly sickening.
Just because he pledged to do so and has been opposed to the EU his whole career doesn’t mean anything. And if centrist traitors are too dumb to realise it’s all a ruse to destroy the Tories then they can whistle. Let’s hope the front-benchers the PM coolly exiled find a good bedsit to find refuge in because once Momentum’s top boys have scrubbed the last traces of Theresa May from Downing Street there’ll be nowhere to hide. If you come quietly they may offer lenience but to paraphrase Mr Green out of The Usual Suspects: all you can do is pray for a quick death. Which you ain’t gonna get.
But as horrifying as it must have been to see a progressive like Corbyn side with xenophobic populism, those of us who’ve studied brinkmanship knew he was playing the long game. You seriously think a man of principle could be on the same page as the ignorant white supremacists who voted Leave? Next you’ll be telling me he once spoke at a ‘Kill The Jews Day’ rally.
No. Just because he’s spent his whole career opposed to the EU doesn’t mean he wants us to leave the EU. And just because Labour’s manifesto stated they would support a hard Brexit didn’t mean they’re going to support a hard Brexit. Do I need to draw a diagram?
Corbynites who voted for Jezza know this so why are Blairites in such a tizz? All over social media and even – gulp – the Real World, Labour voters are shocked and appalled that an anti-EU politician wants to leave the EU, forgetting that we’re talking about someone whose cunning, intelligence and knowledge of man-hole covers is almost supernatural. If you didn’t know better you’d think half the people who voted Labour in know sweet fuck all about him.
I mean, he’s a socialist for god’s sake – of course he hates democracy! And as a upper-middle-class liberal opposed to poor kids going to good schools who also thinks ethnic minorities need rich white men to ‘unlock their talent’ it stands to reason he loathes The People.
It speaks volumes that shit-for-brains moderates can’t grasp what thousands at Gladstonbury picked up with ease. How could a man of principle not want to remain in the EU? That he’s spent his whole career against the EU is unimportant, especially as so many of the people who voted for him seemingly don’t know he’s spent his whole career against the EU. But believing that nice massa’ Corbyn just appeared out of thin air in June 2015 goes hand in hand with thinking he’s the second coming: as anyone who’s ever conversed with die-hard Corbynites knows, his most dedicated fans tend to know the least about him.
Still, those brain surgeons crying into their blue flags because they were duped by the nice old man who forgot to tell them he wanted to leave the EU – despite spending decades telling everyone he wanted to leave the EU – still voted for him. And despite all the lies, smears and demonstrable facts, it’s refreshing to know Labour MPs and supporters can put up with Jezza supporting Islamists, antisemites and dictators but respecting a democratic result is a bridge too far.
Which it would be if that were what he was doing. But anyone with half a brain can see Jezza mistrusts the working-class as much as any leftist and wouldn’t dream of allowing them a say in their country’s future. Hence why he’s been cultivating the persona of a Marxist grumpy-pants who doesn’t like the EU for 40 years, patiently waiting to pull of his sting, like a saintly version of Chuck Lewis out of Bullions.
I mean, come on. You think all those youngsters singing ‘Oh Jeremy Corbyn’ at Gladsto’ would support someone who agrees with the thick racists who voted Leave? Behave. They’re Europeans for christ’s sake: they have morals and everything. Look at the evidence:
These are people apparently oblivious to the hypocrisy of a wealthy politician telling the crowd at a £238-per-ticket festival how ghastly capitalism has been for them.
Who see no contradiction whatsoever in an audience full of pro-EU music fans cheering an anti-EU politician who supports regimes that ban music.
Who don’t realise festivals would be few and far between in Corbyn’s Marxist paradise as potential headliners like Eddie Sheeran would run a mile if they found out they’re on the same money as the bloke who empties the shitters.
Who are yet to enter the world of work, blissfully unaware that in a socialist society everyone has to work. And not for anything as bourgeois as houses or holidays. No, minimum wage plus the pride of knowing you’ve served the state are reward enough. And I’m sure every Gladsto’ attendee who applauded St Jezza would happily choose that over iPhones, Ray Bans and the freedom to do what the fuck they like.
In short, people who not only think the best way to fight capitalism and austerity is to re-join a European bureaucracy dedicated to capitalism and austerity, but also believe socialism simply involves holding hands and helping each other out. Which indeed it does, just as long a you don’t mind the government telling you who you can hold hands with, and the people you help out aren’t Jews, homosexuals, or sorcerors.
Sadly, much as we admire the left-wing utopias that purified and impoverished millions, the dumb British proles still aren’t ready for true socialism. Which is why Jezza is applying the slowly-slowly method: he can’t put the means of production in the hands of the people immediately but he can regulate the shit out of it, raise a tax there, requisition the odd house there. Not that Corbyn and co. will be giving up their wealth or homes. Principled left-wingers like Lady Nugget aren’t ready to lose their property portfolios in the name of ideology just yet.
But if there’s one institution who know all about regulating the shit out of stuff it’s the EU. How could Corbyn not be a fan? That people are apopleptic because he sacked four MPs shows how little they understand the diverse, youthful grass-roots movement driven by a rich white man pushing 70. A movement reflected in the adoring crowds at Glastonbury and Jezza’s recent appearance on the cover of Kerrrrang!, a far cry from the dark days of the ’80s and ’90s when a rock weekly wouldn’t be seen dead sucking up to a politician no matter how nice his allotment was.
True, the likes of NME were always left-wing in outlook. They even supported Neil Kinnock until the Welshman’s cringeworthy ‘we’re alrrrright!’ moment in 1992 when he became momentarily possessed by the spirits of Jimmy Swaggart and Tony The Tiger. But their anti-establishment values meant grudging support for Labour never crossed over into hero-worship or arse-lickery. And festival crowds back then were far too grizzled and cynical to bow and curtsy for a politician. (Unless he was offering warm cider and a wrap of whizz). If anyone had chanted ‘Oh Michael Foot!’ at Reading in the early ’80s they’d have had a bottle of cloudy piss stotted off their head before you could say ‘We Are The Road Crew’.
In those days cowardly music hacks were less concerned with telling youngsters what to think than urging them to follow their dreams without waiting for approval from the state. Exactly the kind of subversive nonsense that brainwashes kids into thinking you make your own luck in life rather than waiting around for The Grand Wizard of Islington to grant you everything for nowt.
No, the music press of that era may have hated Thatcher but instead of crying about it and setting fire to bins they wrecklessly encouraged their impressionable working-class readers to stick two fingers up at her and forge their own destinies. With catastrophic results. Because if those journos hadn’t emboldened council estate kids to think for themselves we wouldn’t have had to deal with them and their offspring voting to leave the EU thirty years later.
But thankfully, some changes have been for the better. Back then NME urged The Kids to take on the world. Last summer it ran a piece offering mental health tips to help readers get over the trauma of the referendum.
Kerrrrrrang! used to laud un-PC mavericks who held the rock and political establishments in equal contempt. The week before the election its cover star was a privately educated career politician whose favourite song is ‘Imagine’.
Thank Allah those dark days have gone, with both press and fans now singing from the same conformist hymn-sheet. Indeed, from Miranda Huckleberry to James Get-On-Up, many of the edgy music writers who came of age during punk, acid house and Britpop can now be found crying about Brexit and the price of sun-dried tomatoes in The New European. And if their readers are guzzling sleeping pills after the revelation that Corbyn doesn’t share their enthusiasm for the EU? Good. Anything to sustain the illusion until he makes his move, reverses Brexit and executes everyone who voted for it.
Luckily, when that glorious day comes he’ll have the muscle to pull it off. Not least vice chancellor John McDonald , who electrified an adoring crowd at Glastonbury by accusing the Tories of murdering the Grenfell Tower victims. Since then, of course, it has emerged that numerous Labour councils were also responsible for fitting flammable cladding to tower blocks. Needless to say, John’s refusal to accuse his own party of deliberately trying to kill poor people tells you all you need to know about this lion of a man.
Indeed, the reaction to John’s speech highlighted the difference between deluded Blairites too dumb to realise Jezza is hoodwinking the Tories over Brexit and clued-up Corbynites off their tits in a field. Lest we forget McDonnell celebrated the financial crash, gushing ‘I’ve been waiting for this for a generation!’ to a roomful of bedsit militants in 2013 when no-one gave two shits who he was.
Of course he later claimed he was joking. And as he also admitted to being a Marxist in the same speech – something he’s since denied – it’s safe to say you can take his word to the bank. Because as I’m sure those cheering him at Glasto would wholeheartedly agree, there’s nothing funnier than people losing their jobs, having their homes repossessed and watching their businesses go under. And I bet they’d be honoured to know that while they were facing financial ruin and contemplating suicide the future Chancellor was drinking champagne and body-popping to ‘Fight The Power’.
As it happens, deluded Marxist MPs have become something of a growth industry since then, with angry Durham lass Laura Pidgeoncock wowing the Commons with a maiden speech that combined the political wisdom of Wolfie Smith with the satirical bite of a baby mouse wet-farting the theme tune to Yes, Minster. In fact you could barely fit a kumquat-flavoured Rizla-paper between Laura and the mud-splattered Gladsto hordes who left John’s speech enlightened, energised and hopelessly indoctrinated. Indeed, many were visibly overwhelmed as they spoke of the deep emotional impact of McDonnell’s words. As Freya, 19, from Hampstead put it: ‘He was like ‘yeah!’ and I was like ‘yeah!!’ and we were all like ‘yeah!!!’
Well said. And with the likes of wise-beyond-their-years Freya now the dominant voice in political discourse, the glorious sight of an anti-EU Prime Minister being lionised by pro-EU Guardian readers is tantalisingly close. And when he eventually double-crosses the Tories and slots us back into the European Union where we belong there won’t be a farmer’s field big enough for the homecoming party.
Ohhhh, Jeremy Corbyn!