Aug 052009

Oh, George. Read your own words:

As any old hippy will tell you, festivals aren’t what they used to be. Gone are the days when you could announce a happening, call up a few mates with drums and guitars, and put the word out that something groovy and free was about to kick off. In these buttoned-down times, it would be treated like an al-Qaida training camp. Today, you must apply for a licence and spend months of your life filling in forms and liaising with the various responsible authorities. There are good reasons for this: it ensures that no one is crushed to death and that local people aren’t harried by intolerable noise and disruption. There are also bad reasons: the controlling, snooping, curtain-twitching state tendencies which insist that all spontaneity be planned six months in advance, that no one can ever take her top off or smoke homegrown weed or get a little bit outrageous – even within a festival site – for fear of offending some tight-arsed busybody in desperate need of a life.

You didn’t defend us when they snooped in our rubbish bins. You didn’t defend us when they fined us for not recycling properly. You didn’t defend us when Jamie Oliver wanted to dictate what chickens we buy at the supermarket. You have been, for some time now, one of the tight-arsed busybodies in desperate need of a life.

And now they’ve turned on you and your pet causes, too. Doesn’t feel nice, does it? Lie in the bed you helped to make, George. Lie there and learn to love it.

  2 Responses to “Moonbat hoist”

  1. I think you are being far too kind to wee Georgie.

    He isn’t worth the Niemuller quote in the slightest – he wasn’t quietly allowing the oppression of groups he didn’t belong to. He was not only cheering the thought police on, he was bemoaning that the profligacy of statist regulation was not nearly enough to “save the planet”.

  2. Bloody hell yes – one of the reasons I stopped buying the Guardian (and I were brought oop on’t Manchester Guardian as a Northern lad), was his incessant preaching at one and all. That and the same from Toynbee.

    What really did it was when he described those who shopped at supermarkets as “idiots”. As a parent with a working partner and four kids, we could either – do all our shopping for the week in an hour or so,and spend the rest of the time with the kids – or stagger up and down the local high streets for most of one day to do our week’s shopping.

    He gets my bloody goat. One day, I’ll get a goat, and he can get bloody Moonbat. Moontwat.

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