Though a long standing critic of the EU and a vocal supporter of Brexit, I never harboured any illusions that it was going to be a panacea for the UK’s more deep-seated ills. Rather, the practical element of my advocacy was that it ought to have meant that neither the mistakes nor the malice of the domestic government could continue to be conveniently blamed on others. That way, it was to be hoped that the escape from the Brussels Bonapartes might afford the electorate a heightened means of demanding accountability from their so-called ‘representatives’.
Alas, our homegrown politicians – whether bullied, bribed, blackmailed, brainwashed, or simply backroom Berias – have since shown the utter depth of my folly on that score.
In essence, ‘We took back control’ from Brussels only to hand ourselves- bound hand, foot, and facemask- to a far more sinister – if not an actively satanic- clique.
And now we are truly lost.
The chains with which to bind us, our children – and indeed all of future Mankind – are being forged, link by link, hour by hour. They are being woven into an inescapable mesh of unblinking surveillance, pervasive control, human livestock-farming, bodily violation, spiritual subjugation, social deracination, immiseration, and chafing constraint.
And yet, we mostly stand by and do nothing to resist our coming enslavement. After all, Malaga beckons, now that we’ve meekly enlisted in the genetech experiment. United are at home this weekend. And that woman did s-o-o well on ‘Strictly’ last night, didn’t she?
Pan(ic)em et Circenses prevails while the plutocrats and praetorians openly parade their power and mock our feeble struggles, interrupting their scornful displays of unmasked mirth only to extinguish our voices permanently and to mark us down for a subsistence-level Social Credit score in the Digital Gulag now being erected around us.
Parliament is defunct. The judiciary sleeps. The media has been suborned. The churches preach the Gospel of Lucifer. “ScienceTM” is become our graven idol and “The Planet”, the stepped pyramid on whose blood-stained summit we must sacrifice our offspring in expiation for the sin of once being free, prosperous, and largely self-reliant.
Where is the end? What chance have we to escape this Hell?
The one, faint hope, is that the sneering hubris of the Davocracy and the utter, weaselly mendacity of their Pawns-in-Office (Yes, that means YOU, Prime Minister!) finally stirs enough outrage in us, the supine masses, that we look up from our smartphones, switch off Netflix, take out our earbuds, and awaken to our peril.
But what then? What are we to do, if we are to clamber back out of the abyss before its walls reach insurmountably far above the depths to which we have already fallen?
I suggest that the answer lies before us in the antics of those twin street-theatre troupes of state-endorsed energy poverty – Extinction Rebellion and Insulate Britain. We should learn from their irritating example and ask ourselves this question: if a clutch of raggedy vicars and a gaggle of metromarxist matrons can bring those lawfully travelling the nation’s highways shuddering to a frustrated halt, what could hundreds – thousands – TENS of thousands – of peaceful protesters not achieve, in their place?
If we are to ward off the impending evil, we need a liberation movement akin to that which toppled and humiliated the awful despotism of Red Communism. We, too, must act en masse if we are to avoid being enveloped in the enduring misery promised by that former tyranny’s new, Green instar. We must quickly rein in the Medico-Media Industrial Complex which otherwise threatens to crush us into expropriated atoms.
We therefore need to take inspiration from Solidarnosc and mimic its resolute stand of four decades ago against the awful and then seemingly insuperable might of the Soviets.
Solidarity, the movement, we clearly need. But it would also greatly help our cause if we had a figurehead, a leader, a spokesperson, a personification of the struggle, a voice of the people – our very own Lech Walesa.
Where can we find such a one? Among the few honest MPs who have vainly striven to hold back this Juggernaut and hold the Junta to account? Among the courageous handful in the media who have refused to parrot the narrative of fear or to intone top-of-the-hour demands for further craven servitude? Or is there someone as yet unknown to the public stage – a conscientious doctor, an outraged mother, a working man of keen intellect and cast-iron scruples? Does anyone know?
Surely someone among us must possess the requisite character, the moral backbone, the ability to articulate the aspirations of the Silent – or rather, the Silenced – Majority: someone willing to grasp the flag of freedom and lead us over the barricades to win back our God-given liberties?
We must earnestly hope they do exist and, existing, that they can be persuaded to stand up bravely before the basilisk glare of the Deep State and the venomous breath of its ravening corporate cronies. For without our enlistment in this Army of Passive Resistance and without him or her to help mobilise and guide our struggle, the corrupt institutions under which we suffer will continue relentlessly about their wicked schemes until they reduce us all to digitised, sanitised, lobotomised serfs, each anxiously flashing our short-expiry Health Passports; hoping the value of our newly-programmable digital currency will not dwindle too quickly in our hands; and ever fearful that our personalized, good-behaviour carbon-rations will not be enough to fill our bellies or to allow us to warm our homes.
Be under no illusion, that last, bleak vision of a technocratic Dystopia is no longer a matter of science-fiction. It has long since moved from ‘conspiracy theory’ to avowed intent. If this is not the legacy we wish to bequeath to our children, we must rise – and rise soon before the prison walls about us become impregnable.