The Day we Revolted

Growing up as a World War child, I sensed we’d all had enough of dictators. Our way was a democracy of the majority and no dictator was going to change that. Minorities, especially of one, were very firmly in the minority and for those belonging to the low-percent of such-and-such an inclination: tough. The clamor of the ninety-odd percent drowned dissenting whispers, cruel though it sometimes was.

A forgetful generation later, the war-weary, anything-goes sixties became a parade of minorities, all begging sympathy. Success came through humour. First we laughed at the coloreds with Love thy Neighbor then Alf Garnet.  Homosexuality lost its criminality as we chuckled with ‘Carry On’ Kenneth Williams, Charles Hawtrey, not forgetting Larry Shut that Door Grayson. How could you jail clowns who made you laugh? Surely democracy could cope with the odd minority.

Then politicians decided post-war Britain was mature enough to become Islands of the World, and multiculturalism was birthed. Recent political diaries explain how Tony Blair, patron saint of minorities, decided that the United Kingdom of the approaching Third Millennium should become the United Minorities.

British culture would die, likewise its Christian heritage and Ten Commandments. We didn’t do God! In would come a new religion embracing all shades together with replacement politically-correct commandments. Subsequently, for the sake of eight per cent of the United Kingdom who were different, the remaining 92% must change beliefs and lives. No Vote. No discussion. Dictatorship by stealth.

Last year, the majority woke up. In the UK, and also in the similarly-liberal USA, the majority once again saw that they were being governed by dictatorship of minorities and they voted “NO!”

Revolution simmers long before erupting.


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