WANTED: one charismatic leader

Superb oratory skills essential

Graham Martin Posted by on October 14, 2011. Filed under Graham Martin,Opinion. Posted with the tags:,
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WANTED: one charismatic leader

The master race are in need of a leader to tell them which way up they should hold their slogans. Photo by red snapper 1917

Must have the ability to make grannies go weak at the knees, to make society’s flotsam and jetsam feel their existence has some momentum.

To be able to lift the downtrodden with cheap and easy answers, to quell the scream at the centre of atomised lives and replace it with the roar of the crowd.

The ability to declare shite is sugar and have others chorus the new alchemical reality is essential.

Now, don’t worry. We on the left have had more than our fair share of bother with ‘charismatic’ leaders over the years.

I didn’t write the above for us. No, I wrote it for our boneheaded, bumfaced chums on the far right.

Because, looking around, they need all the help they can get.

I mention this, and I pen the above job spec, because of a press release that goose-stepped into my inbox a few days ago.

It’s been bothering me ever since. It’s from a new fascist splinter, I’m not going to mention their name as I’m no-platforming them.

Sort of. I think.

See, one of the many problems the fascists have had in this country, post war anyway, is the lack of a charismatic leader.

You’d imagine that having a charismatic leader is one of the prerequisites for the far right, along with a membership containing more than its fair share of closet sex cases and the ability to source fish and chips pics online (oh, do keep up).

But look around and it’s sadly lacking.

When Odin was handing out charisma in Valhalla, or however it works, our lot were too busy with their arms aloft, looking like eager to be picked schoolchildren (‘Please Sir! Sir! Sir! I know! It was the Islamics’) to catch.

There’s poor old Nick Griffin. I’m not going to pick on him. It’s too easy. It would be too easy to say that he looks like what a depressed angler fish thinks it might look like, that he resembles a melted Halloween novelty condom or has the kind of monster head sinners are forced to wear in Hell.

No, that’s boring and it’s all been said. At least he’s got a decent-ish name. Nick Griffin. Apart from sounding a bit Harry Potterish, it’s got a certain fascisty wring to it, somehow.

His predecessor, on the other hand, the happily late John Tyndall, had a name that sounds like a disgraced chemist, and he looked like a mourner at a jobby’s funeral.

The English Defence League, they’re the sexy new boys on the far right, aren’t they. And who do they have? That guy Yaxley-Lennon. His name, at best, sounds like a make of vintage British motorbike (from when the English MADE STUFF) or, at worse, like a disgusting new age sex position.

That he looks like an Eastenders mechanic cast by the BBC to carry their controversial dog-bumming plot almost doesn’t need saying.

Almost.

Even his pseudonym, Tommy Robinson, doesn’t work. It sounds like the sort of exclamation used by public school toffs. “Tommy Robinson, Prince Harry! That was a corking rogering you gave old Stiffie in the scrum there.”

But it gets worse, and here’s where this press release comes in.

This new mob are being fronted by Jim Dowson, lover of Loyalists and Cumbernauld’s premier foetus fuhrer.

He’s pulling all the right moves in the presser, saying all the usual, boring stuff.

But the shocking thing is that though he looks (Google the blighter and you’ll see) like a cross between Wee Burney and a pallid potato grown in a wellyboot full of human shit, this isn’t the worst part.

No – it’s what he calls himself. There he is, all smart in his new suit and Curly Watts specs, and he’s calling himself the… administration manager.

Not Generalissimo, not Duche, not Kilroy-Silk, but administration manager.

Maybe this is the form 21st century fascism will take – a speccy middle manager, who has just acquainted his bum with the photocopier, drunkenly dancing to Blue (Da Ba Dee) on top of a human face FOREVER.

But, thankfully, I doubt it. So I’m here to help. Come on Britain’s fascists! Think big! Think sexy! Ditch dowdy Dowson.

There could even be a reality TV show in it. Britain’s Next Top Nazi. How To Salute Good Naked. Changing Rhunes….

I’m off to pitch to the multi-culti-marxist BBC on your behalf.