By Ben Pensant
There are many rubbish books I’ve never read. Take God Is Gay, in which alcoholic racist Peter Hitchens rants about Islam like a racist alcoholic. Of all the rubbish books I’ve never read GIG is by far the most rubbish. And believe me, I’ve not read a lot. Seriously, if you can name a high-profile pundit who’s not read as many books as me I’m all ears.
Another rubbish book I’ve not read is Sam Harrison’s The End Is Nigh, a hateful attempt by the celebrity atheist to smear Islam as stupid and murderous by describing how stupid and murderous it is. It was so hateful I threw up the second I glanced at the blurb on the back and stopped not reading immediately.
And don’t get me started on Shellfish, Wine And Monkeys, right-wing ruffian Rob Liddle’s attack on liberal sensibilities: the sickest cookbook I’ve ever not read. I dread to think what horrors it inflicted upon racist housewives nationwide, forced at gunpoint to slave over the xenophobic recipes within.
Frankly I don’t now where I find the time to not read all this stuff. But someone has to. And it’ll take more than the sheer volume of rubbish books I’ve not read to stop me not reading them. Luckily, for every rubbish right-wing book to not read there are a ton of awesome left-wing ones. And trust me, I’ve not read ’em all.
But how do I know these left-wing books are awesome? The same reason I know the right-wing ones are rubbish, silly. A glance at the author’s views on Brexit, Trump, and the female penis tells you everything you need to know. Which is why I’m utterly certain that How 2 B Right (In A World Gone To Shight) by gossip columnist-turned-voice of Waitrose Britain James O’Brian is the most awesome book I won’t read this year.
Check out the gushing praise on the book’s jacket from a diverse range of white, Oxo-educated media personalities who look and sound exactly like James. Just picturing Richard Heron and him out of Creepshow nodding and guffawing while James lectures people less middle-class than him tells me this could well be the bestest book I’ve ever not read.
And the title couldn’t be more apt. For James is right about everything. Which is why instead of reading H2BR I just need to gaze adoringly at his picture on the cover: sweating and exasperated after ‘debating’ yet another uneducated dipshit so dim you’d think someone was screening calls to make James look even more right by only letting through people who don’t know their arse from their elbow. Because an intellectual giant like James doesn’t need to engage with people who might know more than him. That’s how to be right. And to see how utterly correct he always is look no further than his principled, passionate, and baldly opportunistic response to the killing of Arkadiusz Jozwik.
Jossstick was the Polish immigrant who died during a racist attack in Hartlepool, an early victim of the hate crime wave that flooded Britain as a result of 17 million cretins voting to leave the EU. Despite scant details of the murder being made initially available, a host of Remain campaigners, Labour politicians and left-wing commentators immediately pinned the blame on The Scum, Neville Farage, and everyone who put a cross in the wrong box two months earlier.
Best of the bunch was James, who issued a heartfelt 15-minute monologue on his NBC show, highlighting a Bill Graham-esque knack for getting into the heads of criminals. Despite knowing very little about the crime or the killer, James utilised his skill for being right about everything to magically ascertain the killer’s beliefs, motivations, hair colour and shoesize . While the police dithered, expressing faux concern that the media were framing it as a hate crime, James showed no such reluctance and ploughed on in the name of rightness.
“You would have hoped that the kind of hate and vitriol they employed in the campaign had disappeared. But it hasn’t, it hasn’t gone anywhere” he lamented, bemoaning the clear equivalence between a few dodgy billboards and a man being punched to death.
“We’re being turned against each other on a scale not seen since the 1950s” he warned, with all the self-awareness you’d expect from a man who’s spent two years telling millions of people how stupid and racist they are.
“Does a politician like Farage know that talking about people speaking ‘foreign’ on trains leads inexorably to young people thinking they have the right to object to people speaking foreign in public?” he enquired, alerting listeners to that subculture of teenagers who take their cues on how to behave from ridiculous middle-aged gobshites rather than irritating pop stars and YouTube vloggers.
He was ably backed up by the media, with over 300 news pieces published following the killing pinning the blame on a politician most teenagers haven’t heard of and the 17 million nuggets he conned into voting Leave. Which is roughly 280 more than were printed after last year’s trial when it turned out the killing had bugger all to do with Brexit.
I’ve never felt more proud of the leftist establishment than I did when the full details emerged and everyone who had previously dined on the story – the Guardian, the BBC, David Lamming, Yvonne Cooper – suddenly forgot about it. Naturally James was at the forefront of this mass blackout, stubbornly ignoring the sad truth that the killing was a dumb street fight totally unconnected to Brexit which according to witnesses started after Josimar racially abused a friend of the boy who laid the fatal punch.
Because Mr O’Brian is far too principled to admit he’s wrong. Especially when he is. And a transwoman on a flying cow could see that Joselu only racially abused that teenager because of Brexit’s hate-filled mood music. That’s right, in Broken Britain even the immigrants are turning into vicious bigots. Shameful.
But no explanations were necessary. Because as we know, everything James says is right. Even 15-minute monologues in which everything he says is wrong. Similarly, when roly-poly Labour henchman Tim Watson publicly accused dead Tory Leon Brittas of being a paedophile, James was the first to defend him.
“What the hell do we want our MPs to use their positions for, if not to ensure that allegations of child abuse undertaken by people at the top of the parliamentary ladder are properly investigated?” railed James, deliberately ignoring the fact that when Watson made his speech police had already investigated and dropped the allegations upon realising they were about as robust as Watson’s weight loss regime.
Not that such minor details mattered to James, who along with Watson had become enchanted by ‘Nick’, the well-balanced young man who said Brittas was part of a Westminster paedophile gang who kidnapped, raped and tortured young boys in an Elm Street penthouse dressed as dolphins. He even claimed he’d witnessed creepy Conservative Harley Proctor murder two children, an accusation treated with the utmost seriousness by the Met, ensuring two years of agony, uncertainty, and financial ruin for beastly Proc. (If only he could’ve died with the accusations hanging over him like Brittas did. Maybe next time, Nick.)
Unsurprisingly, the right-wing press refused to believe their beloved Tory establishment might be partial to a bit of VIP kiddy-fiddling, slamming Watson for smearing an ‘innocent’ man. James had no time for such blind devotion to due process, calling The Daily Fail‘s demand that Watson apologise to the Brittas family “ever so slightly sleazy”. And James and Tom sure know how to spot ‘sleazy’, having apparently taken most of their cues from Exaro News, the now defunct truth-seeking website which originally promoted Nick’s story. A story which came to a cruel and premature end when it emerged that everything he said was utter horse-shit.
Needless to say, when the allegations were exposed as the ramblings of a serial fantasist, James shut up shop and pretended the whole thing never happened. Which just shows how right he was. Because much like James’ unswerving belief that Arkadiusz Jossysgiants was killed because of Brexit, his willingness to be taken in by a slander-happy conspiracy blog and their mentally ill poster-boy only adds to his charm.
Because this is what Good People do: locate the moral angle then exploit it for political capital while stuffing those awkward ‘fact’ things into the nearest memory hole. And nobody is more selective with facts than James. Indeed, as someone who regularly condemns fake news and incitement, I’m sure he had an ironic chuckle to himself about the possibility that his dissemination of fake news incited people into believing Brittass, Proctor, and countless other innocent men enjoyed fucking and murdering children.
As James noted last year after the right-wing press ignored unsubstantiated rumours about former PM Ed Heath in favour of persecuting vulnerable Muslim men provoked into raping teenage girls: “Isn’t it odd how so many people who dedicate their lives on social media to Pakistani grooming gangs are on the same side of the argument when it comes to Heath as the people who don’t listen to the victims?”.
Indeed, there’s nothing more odd than several hundred convicted child rapists generating more attention than one dead politician who to date has been found guilty of nothing more than possibly being a gay Tory (the very worst kind).
“What could possibly be a reason why a brown-skinned person demands derision and disgust, but a white-skinned person accused of identical crimes shouldn’t even be investigated?”.
Good question, James. The logical answer is that they hate brown people and refuse to believe their Tory paymasters could be child molesters. But the right don’t ‘do’ logical. No, these brazen apologists would have us believe the brown-skinned person(s) in question demands derision and disgust because it’s been legally proven they committed thousands of crimes up and down the country. Meanwhile the white-skinned person was let off the hook because the entirely uncorroborated accusations against him came from a deranged lunatic, involved everything from satanism to snuff movies, and were so fantastical and evidence-free that Oliver Stones is rumoured to be making a film about them.
They think we were born yesterday, don’t they? Well we weren’t: we were born today.
Luckily, with Theresa May breaking Brexshitter hearts by striking a deal to leave the EU without actually leaving the EU, James has spent the last few days being even more right than usual. In fact this past week has probably given him enough material to write a dozen new books for me to not read.
First he demanded Brexit mouthpiece Andrew Neal get sacked for calling mad cat lady Carol Cadfael a ‘mad cat lady’, accusing Neal of “compromising his ability to fairly report the most important stories of our time”. Damning words indeed from a man whose reporting of the killing of Arkadiusz Jocasta was about as fair as that time he introduced Muslim reformer Astra Nomani as a Breitbart writer despite having never penned a single syllable for them.
Even better was the tearful 52%-er who melted Remainer hearts by telling James how sorry he was for voting Leave. James assured the mysterious ‘Bill’ he shouldn’t just blame himself but also the evil politicians who brainwashed him into doing their bidding, showing once again the warmth, respect, and shameless condescension Islington’s number one shock jock regularly extends to stupid people he disagrees with. It’s a measure of James’ empathy that a genuinely remorseful Brexiter felt the best person to confess his genuine Brexit remorse to was a man who wanks himself silly thinking about patronising genuinely remorseful Brexiters.
Because being right is what James does, whether it’s comparing adult Grid Girls to 10-year-old chimney sweeps, raging at the inhumanity of Trump’s separation policy despite saying bugger all when it was going on under Obama, or shouting at women who dare to suggest they’d rather their teenage daughters didn’t have to share a changing room with middle-aged men stuffing their hairy nutsacks into ill-fitting tights.
It’s a relief to know someone like James O’Brian is dealing with this stuff so we don’t have to. Who knows how he puts up with it but thank Allah he does. As the great man himself said in the startling book (which I intend to not read just as soon as I’ve not read that Owain Jones one with the bowler hat on the front) : “I love my work. But the bullshit takes its toll”
It certainly does, James. It certainly does.