No jokes please – we’re politicians
Yes, it sounds shocking in these relentlessly PC days, but the thing is, you didn’t kill all of the animals; a few survived and existed undisturbed for several years and now they’re ready to multiply.
What these “dinosaurs”, as they will no doubt be known, were waiting for was the chance to rise to power, and the “that’s inappropriate” brigade have only themselves to blame for not completing the genocide that would have reduced the human population to a shuffling mass of well-meaning imbeciles.
The process is led, as usual, by the USA, where somehow Donald Trump remained true to himself and his forthright nature before having a crack at the world’s top job and finding that even many of those who found him appalling in some ways secretly admired what he stood for.
The Americans have had enough of being nice to everybody. They have finally tired of sitting on the toilet looking at the label inside their Levi’s that tells them that although the traditional buttons and studs proclaim the origin as San Francisco, California, they were actually made in Mexico or Cambodia. They’re sick to death of riding around in Japanese cars and justifying it to themselves and their friends as being because of quality and reliability.
Why should their own products be inferior? And if they were inferior, isn’t the answer to improve them, rather than dump them altogether and go elsewhere? I should declare at this point that this column is in no way an endorsement of Trump, but a quick insight into what got him elected, and that is: nationalism. Patriotism. It’s the sort of thing that people from minority groups (Including smaller, non-powerful countries) feel is their right. It’s the sort of thing that the more powerful, the more high-profile, are not allowed to do in the PC world because if they do it it’s seen as arrogance.
Yes, there is something slightly nauseating about hearing masters of ceremonies solemnly raising their voice as they introduce “The Prezznt a the Unah Stays Ameraca”. But is it any more irritating than hearing Venezuelans banging on about being Venezuelan? We applaud that, because they’re a proud nation in crisis and they’re not shouting at the world, but at their own unwanted leader.
Meanwhile, over in Europe, the quiet, happy family led by German Chancellor Angela Merkel is coming to terms with the fact that the UK has not only decided to divorce them but has appointed Boris Johnson as its Foreign Secretary.
This is a position that involves fostering good relationships with others.
Boris (and you can tell how he is regarded by the fact that he is often referred to by just his first name) is a deceptively clownish figure with a chequered past.
Oxford-educated and coming from a posh background, Boris is cut from the same cloth as David Cameron, but his larger-than-life persona and sense of humour make him less Lord Snooty than lovable rogue. He made a career in journalism, quickly rising to the level of editor at a famous magazine, The Spectator.
Twice married and a noted philanderer, he bonked his way around the south of England and into the gossip columns, yet still managed to get selected as a Conservative MP and served in the Shadow Cabinet before becoming Mayor of London, a position he used to raise his profile with a view (many people suspect) to one day becoming Prime Minister.
Then the woman who actually is Prime Minister, the 100% charisma- free, elderly schoolteacher figure Theresa May, gave him the second most important job in the government, which is rather like giving an 11-year-old an AK47 for his birthday.
So off goes Boris into Europe at this sensitive Brexit time and tells the Italians that if they don’t maintain strong trade links with the UK it’s going to affect their sales of Prosecco, a sparkling white wine that has become phenomenally popular with the British.
This, of course, was a joke, the sort of thing that would be batted like a balloon around the sort of dinner parties Boris no doubt enjoys, but the Italians chose to take offence.
You can’t it seems, be facetious when you’re a politician.
What the success of these two bumptious characters demonstrates is that the political correctness that many see as the foundation of world stability is a ball and chain made of paper, and that given a bit of encouragement, vast numbers of us will break free and return to our old ways. That doesn’t mean we will become monsters, but it will become more difficult for Miss to control the class.
So with these precedents, when Jack Warner returns from whatever exile he is currently in, who’s going to be the people’s choice for PM?