Yesterday morning, a grand total of three eco-mentalists — yep, three — brought Piccadilly Circus, once the epicentre of the British Empire, to a complete standstill.
Round the corner, another seven — yep, seven, I counted them — members of Just Stop Everything, or whatever these headbangers call themselves this week, staged a funereal march along the Charing Cross Road, reducing rush-hour traffic to a crawl.
We’ve closed off Leicester Square,
It’s a long, long way to Net Zero,
But, frankly, we don’t care!
RICHARD LITTLEJOHN: ‘Members of Just Stop Everything, or whatever these headbangers call themselves this week, staged a funereal march along the Charing Cross Road, reducing rush-hour traffic to a crawl’
Yet rather than dragging them to the kerb by their greasy pigtails and clubbing them like baby seals, Scotland Yard scrambled the elite skateboard squad to give the self-styled ‘demonstrators’ a police escort and protect them from the wrath of black cabbies, White Van Men, bus drivers, ambulance crews, firefighters and assorted law-abiding citizens trying to take their kids to school, catch planes, attend business meetings and hospital appointments, etc.
It’s their yuman rites to make everybody’s lives a misery, innit?
Well done, Met Commissioner Sir Mark Rowley, who is starting to make us pine for the good old days of Dick of Dock Green, Bernardo Hyphen-Howe and that New Labour stooge/social worker Ian Blair.
Bring on PC Simon Smith and his amazing dancing polar bear. Yet again, the Yard sided with the anarchists against Chesterton’s Secret People of England. These days the Met takes its marching orders from the Guardianistas and the lawyers at Nonces’R’Us.
The Left-wing broadcast media wasn’t much better. Sky news, official TV propaganda partner of Black Lives Matter and Extinction Rebellion, flashed up an ultimatum from Just Stop Everything warning that unless the Government capitulated to their demands to get rid of all fossil fuels by 5pm, they would step up their campaign of disruption.
A reporter was despatched to the scene to interview some dopey trustafarian in an orange hi-viz jacket, who threatened to keep blocking the streets until the North Sea oil and gas industry was switched off for good.
Still, should make a decent clip for Sky’s unwatchable — and, indeed, unwatched — flagship Climate Show.
For some inexplicable reason, the fanatics always manage to grab the headlines and set the agenda. Pictured: A Just Stop Oil protester jumps on the snooker table at the 2023 Cazoo World Championship
Apparently, this was all to coincide with something called Earth Day at the weekend, and involved anything between 160 Swampy wannabes in London and 100 billion people across the globe, depending on who you believe. None of whom I do.
I wouldn’t know. I was too busy watching Spurs’ Riverdance defenders — arms down, legs flailing dementedly — conceding five goals in 21 minutes at New-casssull. They should have stuck to taking the knee, it might have kept the score down to three.
Sorry, I digress.
It really doesn’t matter whether there were ten or 10,000 Just Stop Everything nutters cluttering up the streets of London. They’re a tiny minority, as proven by the rather more impressive response by cops and spectators at the English and Scottish Grand Nationals, at Aintree and Ayr respectively, both hundreds of miles from the Westminster Bubble. But for some inexplicable reason, the fanatics always manage to grab the headlines and set the agenda. MPs and ministers regularly pay obeisance to militants and fashion policy accordingly.
We live in a country governed by pipsqueak narcissists in thrall to 24-hour rolling news and their own Twitter feeds. They need to be reminded that the Bubble is not the real world.
While half-a-dozen headcases from Just Stop Everything were hogging the headlines, and being accorded the full attention of Plod and the broadcast media, the rest of us were getting on with our lives.
For instance, in Morley, West Yorkshire, more than 15,000 of Chesterton’s secret people turned out to celebrate St George’s Day. Virtually no mention of this anywhere in the national media. The BBC, which loves to celebrate Eid and LGBTQWERTY+ Pride Year, probably considers St George’s Day ‘racist’.
If there’s one lesson we should have taken from the Brexit referendum — and Boris’s 80-seat majority, underwritten by the Red Wall — it’s that the navel-gazing, metro-centric, politico-media Bubble doesn’t speak for Britain. Trouble is, the wokerati now have their claws in every fibre of government, local and national.
Brexit was supposed to be about taking back control of our laws and borders. But even Tory MPs buy in to the Leftist agenda, only yesterday forcing Home Secretary Sue Ellen Braverman to shower illegal migrants with legal aid.
In Wales, one of the strongest Brexiteer regions, the Labour Taffia who run the Trumpton-style Welsh assembly are bunging ‘young asylum seekers’, presumably up to the age of 42, a £1,600-a-month stipend. That should go down well in the more skint parts of Swansea.
And while the red carpet is rolled out for privately educated ‘climate’ protesters blocking the roads, killjoy councils across Britain are going out of their way to stop patriotic people holding street parties to celebrate the Coronation. In Somerset, they’re even preventing folk having picnics and eating sandwiches in parks.
In a perfect world, Just Stop Everything would have been forced to stage their demo in Morley, West Yorkshire, on St George’s Day. And then seen how far it got them.
I have visions of Richard Briers’ Martin Bryce, from Ever Decreasing Circles, done up as our patron saint, lighting a giant bonfire with a polar bear effigy on top and slaying the Just Stop Everything dragon with a home-made lance.
It’s time the Empire strikes back.
Yes, we have no red peppers
Be honest, when did you first set eyes on a red pepper? Nope, I don’t remember, either.
And when did they become part of our staple diet?
I can relate to the title of my old friend Hunter Davies’s childhood memoir The Co-op’s Got Bananas.
One of our family’s fondest legends is my dad bringing a handful of bananas back from Gibraltar after the war, when he was demobbed from the Navy.
They’d all pretty much rotted by the time he’d caught the bus home to Ilford. It looked like Carmen Miranda’s hat.
The red pepper shortage is now a major, major news story. When did that happen? You couldn’t make it up
But red peppers? Nah. I didn’t even come across a kidney bean until I was in my late teens, when Mum made a chilli con carne (as it used to be called) at her continental cookery class.
Yet today, Waitrose is apologising for running out of red peppers and Morrisons is rationing them, two per, following customer complaints.
Desperate Remainiacs are blaming the shortage on Brexit, even though it’s all down to the rain in Spain — or lack of — going mainly down the drain.
And the red pepper shortage is now a major, major news story. When did that happen? You couldn’t make it up.
You won’t be surprised to learn that as it was all kicking off in Sudan, leading to the SAS being sent in to rescue British nationals, our ambassador and his deputy were hunkered down in London, knocking back the pink vodkas in the Civil Service Club.
Where’s Gordon of Khartoum when you need him?
An admission. I’ve always liked Diane Abbott, even though I disagree with her on just about everything. But she’s never got over riding pillion with Jeremy Corbyn, which might explain her inexcusable, gormless anti-Semitic tirade in the Observer.
What no one seems to be asking, however, is what the hell the Observer was doing printing her poison pen letter?
Before it became the provisional wing of the Guardian, the Obs was a proper, independent newspaper. Presumably it thought anti-Semitism would play well with its rapidly diminishing Islingtonian readership.
Oh, and it’s also worth pointing out that if Keir Starmer — who has now withdrawn the whip from Abbott — had his way in 2019 and Corbyn had beaten Boris, Diane would now be Home Secretary.
And the planes full of migrants would be flying here from Rwanda, not the other way round.
The CBI, currently imploding over a rape scandal and other allegations of impropriety, has been consistently wrong over the years, from Brexit to the Thatcher economic and union reforms.
When I was an industrial correspondent, back in the dim and distant, I went to the CBI conference in Glasgow.
Keynote speech was given by the head of Dunlop Tyres, wearing a kilt and waving a giant Union Jack (or flag, if you want to be pedantic) urging delegates to back Britain.
He was called Frazer Campbell, or Campbell Frazer, or Private Frazer, or any permutation thereof.
A few days later, he sold the company to the Japanese.
Maybe they can turn the CBI’s deserted London HQ into a sushi bar.
Source : https://www.dailymail.co.uk/columnists/article-12008919/Its-time-St-George-slay-Just-Stop-Oil-dragon-writes-RICHARD-LITTLEJOHN.html?ns_mchannel=rss&ito=1490&ns_campaign=1490&rand=1270