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There was once an unfenced hill where a flock of sheep lived.
One rainy day, a man came to talk to them. "It's cold and wet here. How can you stand it?" he asked.
"It's not so bad," said the sheep. " We get up when we like, there's plenty to eat, and life is pretty good most of the time. It's raining now but we can just go under the trees if it gets too much. It will stop eventually. We have our freedom, and to us that's the most important thing."
"It looks awful," the man said. "And how do you know it will stop raining? It might go on for weeks. Your land might become swampy and all your grass might be washed away. Tell you what, there is a big building over there. It's warm and dry inside. I will make it let you in. It's only fair. You deserve better than this."
"Is there grass to eat?" the sheep asked.
"No, but I will make the building provide hay. I will make it provide a place to sleep and food to eat and you need do nothing to earn it. You'll be warm and dry and still you'll be free. Really, it's best to take my offer just in case, don't you think? Surely you can see it's for your benefit?"
Some of the sheep were suspicious. "What do you get out of it?"
"Me? Nothing." The man smiled. "And once in a while, I'll invite the most special of you to come and live in a special flock where life will be more wonderful than you have ever known. Of course, you won't all be able to join that flock at once but I promise, every one of you will pass through the Golden Doorway eventually."
The sheep considered. A few distrusted the man and refused to go with him, but most accepted his kind offer. They laughed and scoffed at those who chose to stay in the rain while they filed obediently into the man's dry, warm abbatoir.

Does anyone remember the 'stiff upper lip' of the British? The fighting spirit? The indomitable people who once ran a big chunk of the planet, and who could chase away armed guerillas with a walking stick and an angry voice? A people who, nevertheless, could laugh at themselves and had a great, if sometimes cruel, sense of humour? What happened to them?
Those people would never have set off a security scare because a schoolboy dressed up as the Joker and waved a plastic gun around. Those people would never have arrested a man in fancy dress because he had a plastic knife as part of his outfit. Those people would not have shrieked 'Terrorist!' at the sight of a plastic halloween skeleton. The first might have earned a caning, but not expulsion. The second and third should not even have raised an eyebrow. Neither should Old Holborn's walk (see here and here. Old Holborn is a blogger whose website carries the motto "Free Speech and I don't care who I offend. If you are easily offended then you are a cunt. If you read the Grauniad just fuck off and die. I am not here to make friends, I am here to rant and vent my spleen. Oh, a quick note for any politicians who may wander in. Die.")
The people who replaced those real British are spineless weaklings who jump at shadows. Who call the police if they are slightly offended by a word or two. Worse, the police respond not by saying 'It's nothing, don't worry about it', but by harassing and usually arresting anyone complained about, no matter how trivial and all too often, no matter whether an offence has been committed or not.
These new people are quaking, trembling jellys. They are frightened by mere words, and terrified by a raised hand. They take offence at anything they're told to take offence at. Those who consider themselves strong are those who have not yet experienced adversity because when they do, they run to the government for help. They cannot help themselves. They will not try.
Oh, there are a few real people left, for sure, but they are only a few. Most are now soft, weak loathsome creatures who stare at the unreality of reality TV from their well-pressed sofas and aim their rage wherever the Righteous tell them. The two minute hate. One day smokers, next day drinkers, next day hoodies, next the obese, next Eurasia... or is it Eastasia? Doesn't matter. We are at war with the terrorists. We have always been at war with the terrorists.
These people who once called themselves the Great of Great Britain (can we still use that name for this country, or is it not considered sufficiently self-humiliating now?) are useful only for rendering into animal feed. They accept every word they are fed and have no problem at all with the doublethink required to accept it all. Coal-fired power stations will kill us all through global warming. We must build huge windmills everywhere to save the environment and we must not install new power lines underground because that would harm the environment. Snow in October? That's caused by global warming.
They obsess about their carbon footprint while having no idea what carbon is, they accept that the same number of alcohol units apply to each and every person, that if they allow a ninety-year-old smoker within a hundred yards of them in the open air, they will die the next day from lung cancer. They accept that one ageing rock perv who everyone recognises because his face has been all over the news will sneak up unnoticed and steal their children, and they accept that social services can take children from parents for any reason they feel like making up.
They accept that everything that happens to them is someone else's fault and that they are entitled to compensation for it, and they accept that events on the other side of the planet are all the fault of the British.
Doublethink. All of it. And those minds, once the envy of the world, are now so numb and feeble that they cannot see any contradiction in the information drifting into them. None of it is sorted, categorised, analysed or considered. Every last bit of nonsense is accepted as if God himself delivered it to them.
Today I heard that Sainsbury's is offering education, including basic literacy and maths education to its staff. Good God, what is going on when the supermarkets have to do the job our schools once did? Basic literacy and maths. Hardly a part-time degree, is it? They have set a target of 25% of staff having a qualification within five years. While I think what Sainsbury's is doing here is commendable, the fact remains that they should not have to. We used to have schools. Now we have indoctrination centres and that is just accepted by those sofa-bound parents. They will see no contradiction in wasting years at school only to start earning basic GCSE's after a spell of trolley-pushing.
When did this happen? When was the spirit sucked out of the people of this country? It was no overnight thing. It started small and spread like fungus throughout the land. It began with the best intentions, as these things always do. It began when those who had no jobs were entitled to a small government payment to keep them going until they found work. That, in itself, was not the problem. Work was always the better option and the dole was an embarassing place to be. Oh, yes, there were a few who were happy with that dole cheque and happy to sit back and do nothing but for most, it wasn't enough.
Then came free housing, free gas and electricity, a host of freebies and a wide range of tax-funded benefits until unemployment was more profitable than most of the lower-paid jobs. The idea that those lower-paid jobs were just a start, that they could lead into better-paid jobs, seems to have been lost. The people settled back to claim, spend, and claim some more. Their bodies fell into disuse, their brains atrophied by the drivel pouring from the little box in the corner. That box now occupies half the wall in some living rooms, in accordance with its status in those people's lives. In many houses, most rooms have them. You can even buy pocket ones. The mind-numbing output is everywhere.
Now they are confused by contradictions their conditioning insists they accept without question. Why question, when some vestige of their minds already knows there is no answer? Just accept it and have another beer. Drown the confusion with a chaser of something fluorescent. Bodies flaccid, minds baffled, they accept that they are obese because they eat the wrong kind of food, not because they eat too much and do too little. It's not their fault, you see? If only they had more benefits, they could afford fruit to eat while they watch three hundred channels on their 60-inch flatscreen with surround sound. The contradiction is whisked away by doublethink.
There are a few real people left. Some who are fit and healthy, some with intelligence, some to whom these contradictions are obvious. A few who would, if they could, wake up the zombies the British have become and urge them once more to innovate, to fend for themselves, to reach for those stars they once looked up to see.
To dismiss insulting words not as 'offensive' but as 'the ramblings of a fool'. To stand up for those rights they once had instead of allowing them to be taken away one by one. To think their own thoughts once more. To see those contradictions for what they are, and to analyse and deny them. To take back their lives.
Can they be woken? I am sure some can. I am sure some of the British can be revived. If I thought there was no hope at all I would not be writing this.
For many, it's far too late. For many, there can be no escape from that sleep they believe to be real life. They will spend their time displaying Pavlovian offence at anything that is pointed out to them. They will bleat 'Baaan' on command. They will enjoy the daily two minute hate, and agree like those sheep that while they can no longer do the things they used to enjoy, the slaughterhouse is at least warmer than the field. Those are the British now. Those are the 'vast majority' the Righteous love to quote at dissenters.
It can be dangerous to wake sleepwalkers, and we know that the shepherds will try to prevent it, but if we do nothing then that abbatoir will expand up our hillside until it is covered. In the end, the choice is simple. Take the risk or join them in the warmth of oblivion.
The rain does stop. They just need to be reminded of that.

This page was lifted entirely from a blogger called Leg-Iron, because we think it's not only spot-on, but expressed so wonderfully well that he's out-grumpying The GOS himself. He carries links to some other excellent places, too.
All in all, thoroughly recommended. Long may he be irritable.


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