The English, the English, the English are bloody hell, mate, I can’t even

When push comes to shove, I’m cross with the English only when they make horrific asses of themselves and their country. The thing is, they tend to do this fairly often. The same people who gave us all the Magna Carta, the Rights of Englishmen, and the Common Law also gave themselves (well, really their own poors) the Enclosure Acts, the worst hard-knocks collateral damage from their playing-fields-of-Eton officer corps happy horseshit, the Dickensian nightmares of early industrialization, and some of the most disgusting tabloids on earth. They also brutalized various colonies for decades, until the budget started getting tight, although that wasn’t quite as hypocritical as it looked, since the “public schools” had an ancient, venerable tradition of intramural ass-raping pederasty as a way of projecting brute power through hazing. Jimmy Savile graciously carried this tradition with him to the BBC and maintained it until death did him and the honorable kiddy-diddling part. Sure, we had Jerry Sandusky on our side of the pond, but we didn’t have a systemic police coverup of Jerry Sandusky’s serial child rape.

So, yes, some of them are all right, but not all of them are. Turning one’s office into a brothel on the company dime, or the company six-pence or whatever-the-fuck, is really quite pedestrian by comparison to all this bottomless avarice and sexual perversion. And then there are the royals, many of whom have been unfit for anything but a cell at Broadmoor. The best that can be said of any of them is that they’re lovable players in a despicable game. How the fuck does a country with a constitutional system dating back 800 years allow its monarch to own every last swan in the land, and give the royal family special dispensation to butcher and eat this protected wildlife? There’s a guy at Parliament whose job it is to prepare for the Queen’s Speech by slamming the door in her face, but in the matter of Her Majesty’s swans, no one has the gumption to say, bitch please, your family is the last in this whole bloody country that has a legitimate reason to eat a swan. A malnourished rough sleeper is more likely to get into legal trouble for eating a swan for survival than Prince Harry is for eating a swan because it’s three in the morning and he’s sauced to hell and back.

And we’re supposed to believe that this is an enlightened country governed by the rule of law, not the rule of men. In that case, hello, there, good sir, I’m King James, and I’m fabulous.

It’s said that David Cameron fucked a dead pig, but in his defense, the pig was dead. Jimmy Savile’s victims were alive. Rotherham may be a Looney Toons red herring, but there is some ugly, ugly shit in jolly old England.

Amy Winehouse, pray for us.


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