Monday, 20 July 2009

So This Is White Supremacy?

I know it's wrong to mock the afflicted, but the reality is that sometimes the affliction is to funny too avoid. While racism itself isn't funny, the way people go about it just has to be mocked sometimes. So here I go...


I first saw the story of Neil Lewington a couple of weeks back, when the story focussed more on how his defence was presenting him. It actually still details this in the article above, but in case anyone who reads this didn't read the whole article, his defence was this:

Is he the real deal? Is he a terrorist or is he just a big pest, a nuisance?" Mr Etherington asked the jury. Adding that he was a "silly, immature, alcoholic, dysfunctional twit, fantasising to make up for a rather sad life".

So this is the face of racist extremism in the UK is it? This is the face of the worst scum dividing society outside of religious extremism? This is what passes for the biggest physical threat beyond the suit-wearing, scaremongering morons of the BNP? A fat alcoholic doley with no social life and a chip on his shoulder so big that it may as well be a sack of spuds (that his face reminds me of).

I find that funny.

Reading the article and seeing he used chatlines to try and talk to women actually had me laugh out loud. I can just imagine the conversation.

Woman: Hi. My name is Sandra, I'm a shop assistant from Enfield.

Lewington: Uhhh... Is it a paki shop?

Woman: No. It's Tesco.

Lewington: Oh. Jews.

Woman: Ummm... So what do you do?

Lewington: I'm an officer in the Waffen SS UK.

Woman: *click* Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.....

Lewington: Hello?

It must have largely been like that. I mean, even the most socially neutered woman surely can't find the idea of chatting to someone who openly admits not just to being racist, but to being a bomb enthusiast a turn on? I've seen a lot of fetish porn here on the internet, but I've yet to find anything about tennis balls full of gunpowder. Tennis balls without gunpowder, yes. But explosives don't seem to be a big selling point on the porn front.

Then there's the whole issue of him being stopped on the train not for carrying suspected weapons, but for being abusive to a member of staff. I don't know how the whole transportation of explosives and the logistics of initiating a terror attack usually go, but I would guess being as inconspicuous and humble as possible is the more sensible option. I mean, even if the woman he verbally abused was in some way ethnic or non-English to him, just keeping your mouth shut might seem the safer option. I think it's fair to say that the mark of any terror attack is an initial measure of stealth.

Okay, clearly being a dimwitted fat, ugly forty-something is going to make you pretty inconspicuous (especially in London) but I'm certain bawling obscenities is not. All I can say is that Mr Lewington is representative of the moronic nature of the hardcore of twats that think racism (and specifically things like being in the SS) is some way for society to move forward, and so hopefully we'll see more of these sort of stories, rather than ones of Ethnic communities or the gay scene being bombed.

My final point on this subject though, is whether or not it's fair to call this retard a "white supremacist". I'm not sure he's what Hitler had in mind for his Aryan race. In fact the only place I can see him fitting into the perception of white supremacy is the same sort of intellectual mastermind you see on documentaries about the rise of the KKK and seperatist movements in the USA. People who are so inbred that their left eye is in the right socket, and vice versa. People so clueless that they think America is the greatest country in the world without ever having traveled beyond their county border, let alone the state border.

In fact, I think it might be best if instead of jailing Lewington, we pack him off to the Midwest where he can learn about proper dimwitted bigotry with like-mindless people who might value his tennis balls and alcohol addiction.

I hope there are more stories like this that get a decent public profile. It might serve to remind normal people that people like him also vote for the BNP. And who wants to share a vote with people who think like Neil Lewington?

Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Gizzajob! Oh Okay, Don't Bother...

Having a job is a privelege, not a right. If it was a right, there'd still be National Service.

Okay I've not blogged for a while, and to that end it's perhaps fortunate that I don't make a living from writing. Especially per word. But today I got a bit pissed off listening to Radio One's news bulletins telling me about what a very hard time the 16-25 age group is having at the moment. Apparently 1000 a day are losing their jobs thanks to the recession. You'll notice it's no longer amusingly referred to as The Credit Crunch now we've endured the banking panic for more than a year.

What bugged me about these bulletins was what that demographic had to say when interviewed. Specifically one lad (age unknown) who said he couldn't find a job that paid what he wanted, so he'd had to give up driving lessons and buying clothes. The first time I heard it, I laughed.

It would be easy for me to avoid get on my late-thirties high horse and say "Hey, independence and fashion are important to young people" but the reality is that's bullshit. What's important to young people is having a laugh with your mates and shagging. The last time I checked, neither of these had a big wage as a prerequisite, and nor did they when I fitted the demographic. Fashion is a priority only when you can afford it, and indepence does not mean car ownership or even a driving licence. In fact I immediately thought the lad was a twat.

The onset of age again, Ed? No. When I left school at 16, I had no qualifications other than those I needed to get in the RAF, which had been my goal since before I understood the term "wanking spanners". Since I failed, I ended up taking a shitty job doing data entry at a building society. Number after number after number was typed in, checked, and rechecked. This went on for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, for 6 months. But I endured it, because I liked the fact that it gave me a wage that some mates my age (mates I still hung out with) just didn't have. In the recession of the early 90s, I unpacked Marks & Spencers crap at a warehouse on a nightshift because by then I wanted to earn a bit to run a car and buy the clothes I want.

My point is that Twatty McNojob on Radio One really is missing the point of the current economic recession. Okay, he can't get the job he wants: then go for something shit, and either keep learning to drive, or afford the clothes you want. When things pick up, go for the job you want or can do, and then do both. Because I've been saying since I was in my early 20s that I'd shovel shit for a fiver and hour if it meant I get the social life I want and keep the bills paid.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures" is so true of these times. And while I'm not citing the guy on the radio as typical of the working folks under the half-century-yes-you're-now-officially-old age bracket, I have no doubt there are probably a few thousand out there that would really like to be a Sales Associate at an up-and-coming technology hardware store, the fact is that they could still be on the lash every Saturday with their working mates if they'd just consider riveting an aluminium ladder together for a bottom end wage in a dirty, smelly factory with rude, demanding and unsympathetic bosses. And yes, I did that too.

I'm not criticizing the youth of today. I know how hard it is to be that age with the specific demands it puts on you. But I am criticizing the attitude of today, where there's a perception that the material aspect of both friendship and enjoyment are paramount.

Hard times are also where you learn who your friends are. I guess Twatty McNojob hasn't found that out yet.