Nick Griffin and other idiots

Last week was a bad one for British Politics. The hysteria and gimmicky 'water cooler' gossip surrounding Nick Griffin's appearance on Question Time, was like Obama fever all over again, only this time the vast majority of media commentators mindlessly rushed to voice their disgust and impertinent anger without actually bothering to address the events of Thursday night with any basic sense of proportion.
Lets be certain about one thing: Nick Griffin is a complete and utter catastrophe, and his appearance on QT merely underlined what a thick fucking bag of spanners the twat really is. His semi deranged giggling and idiotic gurning, that fucking terrible hair cut, his wonky eye, muddled arguments that made about as much sense as The Sun rushing out to condemn him the following day and a proficiency for public speaking that makes Chelsea's Joe Cole sound like an eloquent sage, everything about the man suggested that he is still coming to terms with being the odd child everyone took turns to bully at school.
But whilst Griffin succeeded in little more than suggesting he's one raisin short of a fruit pudding, those up against him, and I include 90% of the audience in this, were even worse. Endless questions directed at the BNP leader began with comments alluding to personal disgust which were then applauded and cheered by the kind of people who knit their own porridge and live semi permanent Yurts somewhere in Islington. Jack Straw, supposedly an experienced elder statesman and a highly rated public speaker was representing the current incumbents of 10 Downing Street, but chose to read a complete load of toss from a fucking script. Bonnie Greer was deliberately positioned next to Griffin in a cringe inducing act of political pantomime. I could go on for hours ranting about the BBC's lack of judgment, that young twat in the Newcastle shirt who asked the first mind numbing 'question' (How the fuck does he represent London) and the fat, bald cunt (clearly a BNP fanatic) who started moaning about about British jobs for British people, but I won't. They were all foolhardy idiots in their own way and the only people who emerged unscathed from the mess were David Dimbleby; who has a knack of reducing those of a self important bent into stuttering blunderers, and the man who rose above the follies of the mob and asked an intelligent and cutting question about the government's refusal to address the problems associated with uncontrolled immigration to arch blatherer Jack Straw.
As Mathew Paris argued rather well in his Times column the saddest thing about last Thursday was the sheer stupidity of it all. The BNP have an incredibly narrow agenda solely based around hatred, race, nationalism and bigotry. What they don't have are coherent policies regarding the central concerns of modern Britain: the economy, the environment, technological revolution and scientific advancement. Why didn't the BBC and the audience challenge Griffin on these kind of issues? He would have looked like a spare prick at a same sex wedding had someone questioned him on the BNP's environmental agenda, approach to the Free Market or the arguments surrounding embryo research. Instead we had nothing but a stream of rhetorical, phlegm flecked diatribes; whose sole purpose was to elicit the foolhardy racism that Griffin is already famous for. Just as James Delingpole wrote in the Telegraph last week, the kind of people who appear to have a coronary at the mere mention of the BNP are as singularly stupid and emotionally driven as those they claim to hate. With the supposedly liberal left there is no analysis or argument, just loud wails of outrage and shock that achieve the princely sum of Fuck All.
Anyway as expected the ensuing twenty four hours saw the entire viewing public suddenly morph into experienced political commentators eager to display their disproportionate disgust by writing things like: 'Nick Griffin is horrible' as their Facebook status. Brilliant, full fucking marks, its like the whole class ganging up on the weirdo who smells of piss and stabs girls with his plastic protractor until he does something suitably quirky and then over much mutual backslapping reiterating to one other what a freak he is. Ultimately the whole process just reflects very badly on the general public.
Oh well never mind, what could be worse then having to sit through an hour of indignant Guardian readers and simpletons berating a man who looks like Hitler crossed with Uncle Fester from the Addams Family? Hmm well watching that pile of filthy, work dodging shite from Anfield Road beating us at the home of dole scrounging, murdering filth was pretty fucking terrible, I can tell you. I'm still trying to get the bitter taste out of my eyes.
Until next week, tootle pip!