Schengenfreude

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Leave-voting Laura couldn’t face another day knowing she’d upset some wife off the telly.

By Ben Pensant

As cruel as it is to laugh at the misfortune of others, it’s bloody hard not to when the ‘others’ are Leave-voters, currently locked in a three-way tie with Zionists and Blairites for the title of Most Loathsome Creatures On Earth. Luckily, the racist proles who stole the future of every middle-class child from Islington to Isleworth make it so bloody easy, to the point where attacking them for their stupidity, xenophobia and penchant for child murder is like kicking a cripple. But if that cripple was a stupid xenophobic child murderer would you seriously think twice about administering a good shoeing? Me neither.

So I’m sure I wasn’t the only die-hard Remainer whooping with joy last week when Brexiters were left bruised, shaken and terrified to their bigoted cores by an incendiary tweet from a woman off the telly they’d never heard of. That woman was Oxford-educated TV star Emma Kennedy; the tweet a brutal, perfectly formed zinger so brutal and perfectly formed I went straight to Google to find out who she was. I’m still none the wiser though the internet assures me she was the 18th most memorable talking head on Channel 5’s recent hit The Top Fifty Cheapest Clips From ’80s Blockbusters and quietly stole the show in their gritty drama Suburban Shootout 2: Clackers At Dawn.

But those career-highs are nothing compared to the accolades she received for a tweet which spoke for everyone who values liberal principles like tolerance, empathy and looking down their noses at people who disagree with them. Here then, is the full tweet, though I must warn any passing Brexiters that you may well be reaching for a razor blade before you get to the end. (Not that it’s likely as Brexiters never read anything other than the Daily Mail or Stormfront threads about killing Muslims.) Brace yourselves:

‘It’s getting to the point where I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to forgive anyone who voted for Brexit’.

Ouch. Dunno about you but once I’d finished laughing my head off I poured a mung-bean smoothie and retired to the bath for the most violently joyous wank since Lord Jezza nervously shook my hand in his back garden at 3am. (I still haven’t washed it, sir. I never will xxx.)

But despite my natural hatred for shellsuit-clad racists who vote differently to me, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity. Not enough to sympathise with them, mind. And certainly not enough to forget the pain their ill-informed vote caused sandal-wearing BBC executives with precocious gender-neutral children. But just enough to understand the torture they must be going through having discovered they will never ever be forgiven by a woman they don’t know from…

Oh, who am I kidding? Sympathy? Understanding? No chance. Just look at what they’ve done to Emma. You think she wants to go through life resenting millions of people she doesn’t know? She’s a liberal, for god’s sake. But as she says, it’s ‘getting to that point’ where Brexiters are forcing people like Emma to hate them with their Little Englander antics.

Because as we know, in the entitled world of the staunch Remainer, nothing is ever their fault. None of their illiberal traits are their own doing. Things happen to them, not because of them. And much like jihadists are driven to plant bombs on trains as a direct result of Western foreign policy, so principled progressives have been provoked by the inherent nastiness of Brexit into being massively intolerant towards people they disagree with.

And judging by the shockwaves her comments sent though social media, they don’t take rejection well. Unsurprisingly, not one of the selfish oafs even had the decency to start a support group for Brexiters traumatised by Emma’s remarks. Typical. For all their talk of ‘taking back control’ and ‘Britain’s best interests’ they can’t even look after each other. And you just know when one of them snaps and shoots an MP or nail-bombs a mosque it’ll all be Emma’s fault for ‘inciting’ it, as if they need a reason to go around killing people.

Because as anyone who’s lived among these simpletons knows all too well, violence is second nature to them. Lashing out at things that annoy them is what they do. And as the recent Laura Pidcock controversy proved, there’s nothing annoys Tories and Brexiters more than finding out their betters don’t like them.

Laura is the Durham Labour MP who broke Conservative hearts by vowing to never befriend a Tory colleague under any circumstances, no matter how many bubblies or shots on their BMX they offered her. Like Emma, social media lauded and praised for her intolerance, with principled socialists like The Guardian’s Abi Wilkinson proudly agreeing that Good People should not be friends with Tories as their policies deliberately murder poor folk or something.

Because nothing riles the right more than knowing they don’t call the shots. Tories, Brexiters, Nazis, football fans…the days when these animals controlled the narrative and decided who they could be friends with are long gone. Indeed, one of the greatest tricks regressives pulled post-Pidcock was to convince their fellow liberals that they are the ones who do the friend-picking. That the vast majority of Tories probably don’t want to be friends with them either is one of those inconvenient facts that are ideological kryptonite to the likes of Laura and Abi.

Because in their world it’s the Good People who call the shots. Apart from when they’re being oppressed by white men, in which case they still call the shots but only when their oppressors put down the whips and cattle-prods for five minutes; a rare taste of freedom so fleeting they can barely find the time to tweet more than 200 times a day without being lashed and electrocuted.

Thankfully social media is awash with brave, privileged women who refuse to let themselves be subjugated. And few come braver than Emma, whose ground-breaking tweet not only drove a stake into the fragile egos of thick-as-shit Leavers but also provided clear evidence that the entire Brexit movement is running scared, petrified that their diabolical plan to implement the result of a democratic vote is in the balance.

As wild-haired EU groupie AC Grayling has repeatedly pointed out: ‘The mood of the country is Remain’. Though one can’t help wishing the country had mentioned that on June 23rd last year. It would have saved a shit-load of bother.

Still, as anyone who follows AC knows, he has little interest in what the public think, especially those ghastly folk who aren’t in love with the EU. What he does have is a hotline to the word on the street, which he demonstrated recently when discussing people he’d encountered on social media whose parents regretted voting Leave, ‘horrified upon realising the lies and consequences’. Because nothing gives a clearer insight into the post-Brexit mood more than asking a few teenagers on Twitter.

But AC has had the BrexSHITters running scared for months, recently dealing their dastardly plan another crushing blow by urging his followers: ‘Tell your MP No Brexit is better than a bad Brexit’. Yes, having tried every method under the sun to undermine the result he played his trump card: A PETITION! Because as everyone knows, lists of names are a sure-fire way to get politicians to change their minds. But even though this latest one stuck to the script by sinking without trace and achieving absolutely nothing, the pleasure of knowing it put the willies up right-wingers AND made 200 New European readers feel even more smugly superior than usual is worth its weight in virtue-gold.

Because in these dark times such determination is all we have. And it gives me great comfort knowing heroes like AC are tirelessly fighting to stop Brexit while we mere mortals lie in bed fretting about who will serve our coffee in Costa once Boris Johnson’s executed all the immigrants. We really couldn’t ask for a more noble figurehead. Especially one so dedicated to ensuring a cock-up of this magnitude never happens again, even if it means removing the right to vote from everyone without a degree, an au pair or a second home in Florence.

And there’s never been a better time for AC, Emma et al to put the fools who destroyed our country in their place, with Jean Claude Van Juncker this week unveiling exciting new plans for the future of the EU. Plans Britain will not be part of unless we bend the knee, ignore the referendum result and re-join Juncker’s nascent superstate immediately.

Because despite Leave campaigners being routinely characterised as fear-mongerers for warning of the Commision’s plans to expand their power and take even more autonomy from member states, in his Wednesday address Juncker confirmed virtually everything the liars said. From gently persuading all EU countries into joining the Eurozone and signing up to Schengen, to creating a EU Army and installing a European Finance Minister, he repeated almost verbatim what evil racists like Nigel Farage have been predicting would happen for years. All of which was dismissed as xenophobic conspiracy nonsense by people who know as much about the EU as I do about animal husbandry but voted Remain because they read somewhere that to be against it is, like, totally racist.

And not before time too. Because being in the EU means being part of the most exclusive elite in the Western hemisphere. Who would want to be locked outside as it pushes forward with revolutionary plans to snatch even more independence from sovereign countries and hand it to a shady cabal of oligarchal commissioners?

I think we all know who. Those stonewashed inbreds who screwed themselves by mistakenly believing the right to vote entitled them to have a say in their country’s destiny. Thank god we have people like Emma, AC and Claude to give them a cold dose of reality. With a bit of luck their passionate words could see the suicide rate among regretful Leavers rocket, paving the way for a second referendum uncontaminated by the influence of people who don’t even know how to spell ‘democracy’ let alone overturn it.

In the meantime let’s leave the brainwashed sheeple to their misery and count down the days until this godforsaken country comes to its senses and re-joins the institution that for four decades kept us safe, united and in thrall to the whims of unelected bureaucrats.

My fervent hope is that one day soon I can look into the eyes of my children and know they will grow up safely ensconced in the loving bosom of the European Union. And when that day comes I’m sure I won’t be the only educated Remainer to paraphrase Will Smith’s closing speech from 1985, George Orville’s optimistic fable about a utopian society whose emboldened citizens reject bourgeois affectations such as saying and thinking what they like:

It’s alright, everything is alright, the struggle is finished. We have won the victory over ourselves. We love the EU.

 

2 thoughts on “Schengenfreude

  1. Oh you think you’re jolly clever with your attempt at satire, don’t you?

    You’ll not be laughing when you have to clean your own toilet because staff can no longer be imported from the mainland!

    Like

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