Brexit to blame for COVID-19

An exclusive report pinpoints the blame for the COVID-19 epidemic on Brexit. We will show Britain’s leaving the European Empire led directly and inevitably to the coronavirus epidemic in China and across the world, in which the Johnson government played a knowing role, suppressing reports that would have shown this as the inevitable outcome. The full scale of the scandal of ‘Project Pangolin’ is yet to be revealed.

Or we could do it as ‘pinpoints the blame on manmade Global Warming’. Or maybe ‘a worldwide capitalist plot against the workers’ as Jeremy suggested (and we know where those theories about international conspiracies lead, don’t we Jeremy?) Maybe if the right source comes up with the cash it can be ‘the nationalist government of the Ukraine (or Latvia perhaps)’: I’ve not run that one for a while.

Look, its hard getting by these days, so anyone who wants to sponsor us, just give us the cash and we’ll write the report you want. I’ve the template right here: I just need to slot in the relevant target for blame and we are ready to go: your cash and you choose the blame. It’s not as if XR is short of cash after all those donations the organisers pocketed, or a trade union that can be free with its members’ subscriptions maybe. We are not like Piers Corbyn, promoting mad theories for free – it’s all about money here. Come on, I’m just looking for a sponsor.

Would it help if this post were repeated in Russian?

COVID-19: a nation divided

Britain is in crisis: the nation is deeply divided with a virulence not seen in living memory – since January in fact. COVID-19 has riven the country into two opposing camps:

  • The terrified;
  • The fed up.

However a third camp is making its presence felt:

  • The bullies

Which faction is in charge of events? Take a guess – it is as it ever was.

This is a frightening time for all the timid, hypochondriacs and conformists, and possibly for everyone who does not wander about with his or her head in the sand (if that s actually physically possible). For the fed-up, ah – can we just get back to normal? It’s not the Black Death, so imagine how we would be if it were – a sense of proportion, please, and do something about that nasty cough of yours – here, borrow my hanky.

For all natural bullies though, for the bullies – this is a heaven-sent opportunity to tell other people what to do. Now they have an excuse to look down their noses as neighbours. They salivate over nailing planks over people’s front doors like in the good old days of the Great Plague of London – Defoe has been flying off the shelves in Hampstead. There is exquisite pleasure in gaslighting the reluctant into believing their are personally responsible for killing thousands. Never has there been an opportunity like this since Brexit.

How long can this go on? For the terrified and the fed-up, it cannot end soon enough. For the bullies, let the plague roll on.

See also


What is less known is the reply Aetius sent

Aetius Dux britannis salutem:

I do not know which of you wrote that letter, but I send this reply in the earnest hope that you will insert it somewhere appropriate. A grex of disgruntled woad-dodgers looking to betray their own country is not going to impress me. I am not playing your game. In fact, I will copy this letter to King Vortigern and let him put you where you should be, which with the wild beasts is in the arena, if you still have those.

Forty years ago Britannia left the Empire, and things have changed a but since then. We have moved on even if some Romano-enthusiasts like you refuse to do so. Get with the rest of your nation, for goodness sake.

The last lot of Britons I saw called me a ‘Hun-loving Moesian bastard’, before I hanged them. Let’s be clear about this: we East Europeans work hard to do the jobs you lot turn you noses up at, and if we can slaughter Franks and Saxons, so can you, you lazy stulti.

You had your Britanniae exitus – we asked you three times to reconsider and three times you killed the magistrates sent to give you the protection of the iron boot of Rome on your necks. You have never been part of the Roman Project. You never stopped speaking Welsh and we never accepted any of you unwashed savages in our ranks.

Britain is finished, forever. Gaul, Raetia, Illyria, Moesia – these are the places with a future, but Britain post exitibus is nothing, and will never amount to anything. Your name will be forgotten.

As for your ‘groans’, this idea that the Saxons are going to take over your island and destroy you culture, well it sounds like the old Celtic Replacement conspiracy theory to me.

Now, the Picts – no one nose who there are these days. They’re not going anywhere.

The Scotti: I’ve advise you to let them in. They will pour south, so just let them take charge of everything important, leave them to it and they’ll get it running smoothly again. It’s only the ones left in the north you need to worry about, if they think they’re the only Scots on God’s green Earth. The Hibernii too: you know they have a coming-of-age ritual, that every youth reaching manhood has a bag packed ready to move to Britain. You’ll learn to love them, even if the favour is not returned.

And the Angles and Saxons swarming over the sea – they’ll never amount to much.

Tomorrow I have a battle to fight over at the Campis Catalaunicis, but after that, be assured that I will pay a great deal of attention to ignoring you.

Ualete et i in malam crucem.

See also


Meat Month

An end to flavourless ‘Veganuary’: it’s Meat Month, and time to explore meat in all its wonderful variety. We say no to malnutrition.

This week we start with beef: there is far more to it than a slab of ox flesh. Beef is a doorway to many new experiences.

We have a lot to thank vegetarians for – without their efforts, vegetables would be overboiled and devoid of flavour, but with remarkable ingenuity they have made them with eating on their own. Vegetables are always better with gravy of course, but for making these vital elements of our diet possible to eat on their own, I thank the vegetarians.

However now it is our turn, to do the same for that other vital element of our diet – the meat. The two cannot be parted. To much meat means ill-health, indigestion, bowel disease, scurvy and personal hygiene issues best not described. Lack of meat loses vitality, muscles and tone. Working hard needs meat. That balance of diet is what Meat Month should be all about: the meat that is worthy of the vegetables given house-room on the side of the plate.

If you think meat is just a lump of undistinguished flesh torn from a plastic wrap and grilled or fried, you do not know meat. The subtleties are endless. If you think it is just beef, lamb, pork and chicken , you have not even grazed the surface, and no wonder you have been put off.

It can be fitted to any diet. Worried about your weight? Eat rabbit stew, or squirrel, or guinea fowl. It is all out there to be explored.

We’ve a string of sausages running through February, and an offaly big weekend coming up. Dive in and suggest your own best meat dishes.

In fact, it is so big a topic, it should be a whole year, every year.


Fay’s pop guide to Brexit

The old-time crooner sang in the ECSC in 1951: Elvis, greeted the EEC in 1957 with Jailhouse Rock, and how right he was. That was long before he became bloated and blundering, like the institution he greeted. (The European Coal and Steel Community sounds like a niche woke identity.) Then in 1957 it was the European Economic Community and Euratom (which sounds like a Dutch teen-techno-rock band): if Nat King Cole thought his namesake Too Young in ‘51, the EEC was born with Elvis Presley getting them All Shook Up, and predicting they’d be Paralysed.

That didn’t bother the best of the world though:  even Europe was just trying to enjoy La Dolce Vita. Britain didn’t join at first and in 1961 De Gaulle, still high on Presley turned his Wooden Heart to say ‘non’, but MacMillan was still hopeful as he heard Shirelles playing Will You Love Me Tomorrow?

The EEC got on through the rest of the sixties screaming in minskirts and hurling itself at the Beatles. The Empire was gone but we’d never had it so good, but Elvis was warning us There Goes My Everything

With Europe locking itself away, we needed to look after ourselves: even Michael Caine was in The Self-Preservation Society.

Edward Heath wanted in but complaint that I Can’t Get No Satisfaction: then with De Gaulle gone in 1969 he went crazy to Let The Sun Shine In.

The mood was changing: in our troubles, by 1971 the Common Market was Killing Me Softly With His Song. Labour were divided:  the most eloquent MP opposing membership was Peter Shore, who warned that Britain would be Like a Puppet on a String, as his namesake Sandie said at the time. Watch out for the Ch-ch-changes, just as The Who were telling us they Won’t Be Fooled Again, Britain was; joining the EEC at the end of 1972.

Well, Mama Weer All Crazee Now.  The EEC knocked out the tariffs placed on the trade from one coast, while the Stranglers were put on Liverpool’s business with America and Australia.  European integration was a distant nightmare; we should have seen it coming but maybe Heath as he took us into the EEC thought It’s Only Make Believe.

Labour wanted out of a ‘capitalist club’, and the reds got into power in 1974 on a manifesto to leave, but in office changed their mind, so there was only one thing to do:  look at the electorate and sing with the Osmonds that I’m Leaving It All Up To You.  The voters were tired.  Bowie was singing Rebel Rebel, but they did not; not for them to Rock the Boat with Karl Russell and the Hues; and the EEC sat back and opened the draw with their future plans, whispering You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet.

It didn’t help. Britain became a basket-case thanks to socialism and Heath, who was hardly different, and the EEC paid no heed to the Sage of Kirkcaldy said (that’s Adam Smith; not Gordon Brown) strangling outside trade with customs duties, and Wilson hit the rest with supertax, until eventually the voters finally noticed that This town, is becoming like a ghost town and sent Margaret Thatcher to sort it out in 1979.

The European Economic Community was doing well, if you ignore the way it starved the farmers of Africa. It had some trade with Argentina; sending French mechanics there to service the aircraft and missiles they used to sink ship of the Royal Navy. This is how peace and brotherhood in Europe work, apparently.

War, what is it good for?  Winning the 1983 election apparently. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This.

The big Thatcher legacy – the 1980s pop scene, as there was suddenly money in pockets, new Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money), and East End lads could go out looking for West End Girls,

Soon Britain was roaring ahead while Europe looked suddenly stuck. They did their best, but even Nina’s 99 Luftballons could not lift them. The cracks were starting to show.

In 1984, as Frankie went to Hollywood, Maggie went to Brussels to sing I Want My Money Back (a line Meat Loaf shamelessly copied ten years later) and got it. She was always guided by TINA (there is no alternative) and Tina returned the favour the next year, singing of her We Don’t Need Another Hero.

1987 – You Win Again, and Maggie did, famously, and the next year gave her Bruges Speech, to show she was Hangin’ Tough. This awoke Eurosceptic MPs: Let’s Get It Started, sang M C Hammer and Lord Harris, and within months the Bruges Group was formed, but Europe knew what was happening, which may be why Europvision was won by a song  “Ne partez pas sans moi“, performed by Céline Dion; the original “Canada Plus”.

In 1990 was a era began. Maggie seemed irreplaceable, and the Cabinet assured her Nothing Compares to U, but the voters insisted Justify My Love, and soon she was gone. An empty car arrived at Downing Street and John Major stepped out. The voters said we’re Gonna Make You Sweat.

Europe was the bane of the Major ministry . The end of the Cold War also removed the threat that had kept the Tories in power. He survived an election, greatly reduced, and the BBC hated him for it, for defying the narrative they had laid down.

In 1993, D:Ream had sung that Things Can Only Get Better, but the song hit the charts in 1997 and sung Tony Blair into Number 10. Things, with Europe, would only get worse.

The rush to integration accelerated with every Tuscan villa Tony stayed in. Slow Down Baby! It meant though that the Conservatives could be legitimately anti-European: that would Get the Party Started. Yes: Tony Blair woke us up to the Bad Romance, and helped to get us to Brexit.

Is it back now to the Sixties, when the Moody Blues told us to Go Now? And we will.