A fortnight of virtue-signalling is now upon us, with a plastic flower now determining our social status and propriety. Sneers, tuts, and in some cases full-on confrontation will bubble over in the event of your bare lapel being clocked.
Yes, ‘poppy fascism’ us back to a pub, shop, or organisation near you.
It’s nothing new or even out of the ordinary, though. Electing not to wear ribbons, wristbands or minoscule pins – very often those that only dullards with tacit knowledge recognise – means that you are destined to be categorised as a microaggressor within the swelling ranks of the permanently offended’: If you are not demonstrably our friend, you must be our enemy’.
However, it’s not all one-way traffic. What started as insufferable pub-bore nationalism is being counter-balanced by the bonkers, frothing indignation of those who purposefully abstain and who cannot keep their traps shut about it.
And lost among the posturing frenzy are the personal, reflective moments that might have been expected of those with a healthy, well-adjusted respect for people and circumstances. Lest we forget, that’s what most of us probably recall remembrance to have once been.
Of course, the conflict is all about image projection, and well-grounded folk don’t give a toss, because badges don’t transform their wearers into Supermen even if their display does create that intractable belief inside the hosts’ narrow minds.
The accompaniment to all this nonsense is an incessant clash of symbols and a beating of virtue hum-drums from bands of cretins with no sense of social rhythm. The row about symbols serves only to stoke the oppressive behaviour that many previous conflicts sought to surpress, but those facts are not going to trump rampant and naked self-interest.
You might recall the story of the man who left Africa and who becomes black only on arrival in Europe. Similarly, the psycho thought police of whatever wing become upstanding and virtuous only once they’ve inserted themselves into the debate and denigrated all those around them.
In the next two weeks, by all means take a moment to remember those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom.
Either way, nobody should be any the wiser.
[…] to, end of. We’ve had to bear enough of that turgid tripe with the annual Nuremberg rally of poppy stormtroopers descending on our town centres, banging on about wars that they only ever read about in comic […]