Today, MP’s from across the House are lining up to slam David Cameron for his ignorant remarks on Calais refugees.
Frankly, I don’t know why they’re even bothering.
Cameron has the hide of a rhino and is a thoroughly appalling human being and as such doesn’t really give a damn what people think.
He’s also sitting on a parliamentary majority, watching in great delight as Labour tears itself apart.
Safe from public opinion, as he’s leaving office at the end of this term anyway, he isn’t particularly bothered about political consequences either.
That frees him to express his deepest feelings however he pleases.
MP’s and the media can bleat and squeal as they like; Cameron ignores it all.
Because he’s already fulfilled all his life’s ambitions and is pretty well beyond reach.
Jonathon Freeland says his comments were “beneath him.”
Actually, they summed him up brilliantly, as a grand scale, epic bastard who doesn’t give a monkeys because he doesn’t have to.
This, after all, is the guy who thinks finger wagging at Muslim women and telling them to “learn English” is acceptable conduct for a political leader.
The only thing to do with Cameron is to treat him as he is, by refusing to be surprised by how low he’s willing to go.
Jeremy Corbyn’s strategy of treating him with respect has resulted in his becoming even more patronising, arrogant and aloof than ever before and that ought to be the first thing dumped overboard if the Labour leader is to make any headway.
I’m tired of reading about Cameron The Moderate, a “decent man” who’s been forced to make “hard choices”.
The last of those was probably around Christmas, when he had to decide whether to first open Rupert Murdoch’s present or the one from Paul Dacre.
His “hard choices”, like so many others made by politicians these days, are never those which inconvenience him or those around him; they are hard only for those these people can glimpse through their bomb-sights.
Spare me efforts to understand.
I understand just fine.
I am grateful for days like today. They show him up as the smooth reptile he really is.
Behind that smooth pink face, that of a man who never worried a day in his life, is a black hole where the soul ought to be. Even as he schmoozes with the rich and famous, his party’s policies hammer down on the heads of millions of people.
His language today was inhuman, and so I have no problem using the same sort about him.
This is what the Office of the Prime Minister has been reduced to, and so it hasn’t really been demeaned either.
In its name illegal wars have been launched, laws have been flaunted, society has been shredded and civil rights cut almost to the bone over the last 20 years.
Political discourse in Britain is built on such foundations.
And we have the cheek to debate allowing Donald Trump into the country.
Just who are we trying to kid here?
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