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Monday, 28 March 2011

Rot in hell Littledick!

I've thought hard about posting this.
On one hand I don't want to promote this hateful, low life, piece of shits work, but on the other I expect it to be pulled from the Daily Mail where it came from, and then those who didn't see it can go on pretending that the paper and its writers aren't as loathsome as some would claim.
How anyone can write such dissaproving tosh about an outpouring of global grief is simply beyond me, but then again this is from the paper that regularly distorts the news and basically just preaches to those already perverted, oops I mean converted, to their way of thinking.
So with a heavy heart here it is.

It is wrong to visit the sins of previous generations on their modern descendants, although that doesn’t prevent the British Left constantly trying to make us feel guilty for centuries-old grievances, from the slave trade to the Irish potato famine.

Yet many surviving members of the Burma Star Association still harbour deep animosity to everyone and all things Japanese, 65 years after VJ Day.

They won’t want to be associated with the expressions of sympathy over the earthquake and tsunami. And who can blame them?

Like thousands of other British servicemen who were tortured in Japanese prisoner-of-war camps, my wife’s late grandfather, Harold Tuck, would never have joined a minute’s silence for Japan.

Until the day he died, Harold would refuse to remove his shirt, not even on the beach on the hottest day of the year. The scars inflicted by his sadistic Japanese captors were too horrible to be exposed to the harsh light of day.

Were he alive today, he would have remained doggedly in his seat if requested to stand in silent tribute to the dead of Japan.

I often wonder what our fathers and grandfathers would have made of modern Britain’s ghastly cult of sentimentality and vicarious grief.

Ever since the hysteria surrounding the death of Lady Di, when half of the nation seemed to take leave of its senses, a section of the population seizes any excuse for a sobfest.

Showing ‘respect’ has become institutionalised. Before every one of the weekend’s Premier League football matches, for instance, fans were forced to stand and observe a minute’s silence for Japan. Why?

I have no objection to honouring the dead in public, if the occasion or sense of loss warrants it. At White Hart Lane we’ve recently said goodbye to some of the stars of Spurs’ double-winning side from the Sixties. There was genuine sadness over the loss of men many in the crowd had known personally.

But how many of the hundreds of thousands of supporters corralled into grieving for Japan could even point to that country on a map?

Like most monsters, the Premier League has a sickening streak of sentimentality. Barely a week passes without yet another minute’s silence before kick-off. Soon every club will have to employ professional mourners in black tailcoats and top hats to lead the teams out onto the pitch. Replica shirts will come complete with black arm bands.

There is nothing more meaningless than seeing highly-paid, precocious superstars linking arms and standing in silent tribute to victims of an earthquake on the other side of the world.

The spectacle of a giant furry mascot dressed as a chicken bowing his head in mourning is beyond preposterous. It is football’s equivalent of those teddy bears you see tied to railings at the scene of every road accident.

Of course, there is a commercial incentive here for the Premier League. No doubt the Japanese TV rights are up for renegotiation soon.

But why Japan and not, say, those massacred in Rwanda or starved to death by Mugabe in Zimbabwe? I don’t remember a minute’s silence for Haiti, although I may be mistaken. I’m sure we didn’t have a minute’s silence for our earthquake-hit Commonwealth cousins in Christchurch, New Zealand, before the Milan game. Maybe we did.

These days we’d have a minute’s silence if Harry Redknapp’s dog got run over.

I abhor the modern tendency to co-opt every tragedy in the world as an excuse for a self-indulgent display of cost-free compassion.

Sam Kirkpatrick, a reader from Stanwick, Northamptonshire, saw a woman taking part in a road race this weekend wearing a T-shirt imploring spectators to: ‘Pray for the Japanese people.’

The implication being: not just that she was advertising the fact that she is a caring soul, but if you don’t pray for Japan you must be a heartless bastard.

By all means pray for Japan, if you are so inclined, but do it privately.

Do you think the Japanese held a silent tribute for the victims of the London Transport bombings in 2005? Me neither. Meanwhile, they are getting on with the business of mourning their own dead and beginning the process of reconstruction. In Tokyo, life goes on pretty much normally.

Caroline Graham reported from the Japanese capital in the Mail on Sunday. A businessman told her that reports of panic and chaos were greatly exaggerated.

‘Here in Japan we are more like the British with their stiff upper lip.’

It only goes to show that the Japanese know as little about modern Britain as we know about them.

Just as an afterthought I should add that the article was illustrated with a picture of an emaciated victim of the Japanese concentration camps from the second world war. A nice touch that the propaganda machine of the Third Reich would have been proud of.

1 comment:

  1. More from this horrible fool.

    A parish priest has been forced to resign after turning up at a ‘Vicars and Tarts’ party dressed as a prostitute.
    The Rev Martin Wray, from South Shields, Tyne and Wear, swapped his dog collar for shiny gold tights, a little black dress, pink high heels, a pink necklace and a long black wig. Friends of Rev Wray, who married his gay partner Lee Lovely in a civil partnership ceremony last year, claim he is the victim of a ‘homophobic’ hate campaign.
    But is dressing up as a tart really a way for a man of God to behave? Wouldn’t it have been easier to go as a vicar?
    I can’t imagine the Imam from the local mosque going to a disco dressed as Lady Gaga.
    Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer my vicars to look like Derek Nimmo, not Lily Savage.

    Although if the vicar in question had been straight then his forced resignation would be considered political correctness gone mad.
    Nice to see he managed to squeeze in a refrence to a Muslim Imam to. Homophobic and racist prick that he is.