ripper territory – whitehouse

I haven’t posted in here for a couple of weeks. In truth, I’ve still not fully got over November’s viral attack. I’m trying to rest, eat well and generally keep myself clean and warm. All to no avail. I’m felled by each and every bug, disease and germ that I come to the attention of. The bastards have got it in for me. This is payback for all those years of rude health and the sort of immune system that kicks down doors and shoots people in the face.
Or so it would be if I believed in Judaeo-Christian binary logic.
Still, all this ill-health and miserable inward-looking has given me time to think. About utopias, amongst other things. Every utopia throughout human history has turned into an orgy of mass murder. From the terror following the French revolution to the tali-tubbies in Afghanistan and not forgetting Hitler’s Germany and Stalin’s Russia, whenever there’s a utopia (or even the idea of one) there will always be a few humans who aren’t good enough. And have to be purged.
Utopias then, tend to start off with promises and lead swiftly to a good old-fashioned killing frenzy. Since seizing power in 2010, Cameron’s junta have promised milk and honey at some vague bit of future that isn’t here yet, while Iain Duncan Smith, the Chingford ripper, has orchestrated the deaths of ten thousand souls who weren’t good enough for Cameron’s perfect world, free of the poor, the disabled and the otherwise unusual.
Last year the UN investigated the UK’s ‘welfare reforms’ of those deemed unfit for purpose. I think we have to face it. This country is no different to 1930s Germany or 1990s’ Afghanistan. Ideologically driven, anti-personnel culling of untermensch and unbelievers.
I’m probably not going to end this on a high note, with suggestions of how we can come together to improve our world as the country’s already in the throes of a maniac’s vision of happy-ever-after.


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