The Plastic Hippo

December 4, 2016


Do you mean that the plebs actually drink this stuff?

Do you mean that the plebs actually drink this stuff?

There is something irresistibly delicious in witnessing a pompous, privileged, and ultimately pathological politician unceremoniously dumped by a savvy electorate. Frank Zacharias Robin “Zac” Goldsmith is the latest arrogant yet complacent buffoon to be subject to the will of the people; a people who are much better off for seeing the back of him.

The 1997 General Election was defined by the “Portillo Moment” when, in the wee small hours, the scale of the Conservative defeat became horribly clear. Later, in 2015, when Douglas Alexander and the now ubiquitous Ed Balls were voted off by their judges, the scale of the Conservative victory became obvious. Equally fascinating was the sight and sound of Liberal Democrat collaborators like Danny Alexander, Vince Cable, Ed Davey, Simon Hughes and David Laws being given the old heave-ho and thus confining their political party to the final reduction on the beyond its sell by date shelf. But the sublime pleasure derived from watching the odious Esther McVey and the repellent George Galloway being given their marching orders proved to be the most joyous of all hook slinging directives. The boy Goldsmith now joins the ranks of failed and misplaced ambition not once, but twice.

The son of billionaire Sir James Goldsmith, young Zac was expelled from Eton after being discovered to be in possession of illegal drugs. Mercifully, the fresh-faced youth did not reside in Brixton, Handsworth or Toxteth otherwise he would surely have been branded as a career criminal, drug addict and benefit scrounger. An amateur environmentalist, Zac travelled the world and realised that noble savages and their traditions needed protection from new fangled concepts such as economic independence, equality and a different lifestyle from abject poverty. His rich uncle gave him a magazine to play with which allows Zac to describe himself as a journalist and with daddy`s inherited money, parliament beckoned.

Not content with the fiefdom of Richmond Park in a poor ghetto of London, Zac desired control of the entire diverse, infuriating, colossal and most wonderful city on earth. He failed. He failed because he was talked into organising a thoroughly disgraceful and negative mayoral campaign based on his opponent`s faith and name. Sadiq Khan might not be the brightest button in the box but he is infinitely superior to Zac Goldsmith at representing London and its citizens in the second decade of the 21st century. Goldsmith`s campaign was overtly racist, divisive and reassuringly futile. He accused Khan of plotting to steal Indian family gold and of being a terrorist sympathiser, a claim that was repeated by the then Prime Minister David Cameron (does anyone remember him?). A couple of weeks later Cameron, when campaigning to remain within the EU, described Khan as “a proud Muslim and a proud Brit”. Khan won the mayoralty and Zac revealed himself as a complete idiot and you cannot keep a good idiot down.

The pampered self-styled eco-warrior took umbrage at the news that Heathrow was awarded a shiny new runway and promptly threw his toys out of his pram. Resigning from the parliamentary Conservative Party and resigning as an elected MP, the old Etonian triggered a vanity by election expecting the people of Richmond Park to express their undying love for him by returning him to parliament as an independent MP. The Tories offered no candidate and the increasingly weird Kippers offered support rather than a challenge.

All the candidates that stood were opposed to expansion at Heathrow and the election was fought and lost over Europe. Fewer people voted Labour than the number of Labour Party members in the constituency and a massive Tory majority was overturned by a fairly lightweight Liberal Democrat. Clearly, tactical voting was at play but the message from Richmond is not one of a Liberal Democrat revival regardless of Tim Farron`s embarrassing prancing about, but an obvious expression of loathing directed at Zac Goldsmith. With the neo-fascist right whipping up the easily led across the globe, it takes a very special neo-fascist hate monger to blow two elections within a few months. Fascist parents wishing to groom their male spoilt brats for power might think twice about packing them off to Eton College. David Cameron, Boris Johnson and that other chinless wonder Jacob Rees Mogg are so far removed from reality that government is now the province of grotesque caricatured dimwits. Goldsmith is a chip off the old block.

The election of 1997 claimed another high-profile scalp. David Mellor, a useless minister and serial adulterer who had a taste for dressing up in Chelsea football kit in the company of ladies of the night, lost his seat on that fateful night. It must be stressed that Chelsea Football Club are beyond reproach when it comes to scandals of an intimate nature as are, of course, almost all Conservative MPs and other MPs of various parties.

One of Mellor`s opponents in 1997 was Sir James Goldsmith representing the now almost forgotten Referendum Party. Sir James had enjoyed notoriety as a billionaire who loathed all things foreign and was not afraid to display his wealth, hatred and ignorance. As the result was declared in Putney, Sir James clearly having taken strong drink led the chanting of “out out out” as Mellor attempted to give his speech on being defeated. Mellor reacted as a very sore loser.

James Goldsmith died about a year later and his son Zac inherited pots of money and immediately went into non-dom mode to avoid paying tax. If we are serious about cracking down on the radicalisation of vulnerable young men resulting in a threat to national security and the wellbeing of UK citizens, then perhaps the old Etonians in government should think about closing down Eton College.

Maybe not – that would make nanny cross and she would tell daddy.

1 Comment »

  1. I know its Xmas. A time that all political parties should be allowed to live in the World Of Make Believe.

    But, according to the latest Ministry of Sound blockbuster, its all gone Pete Tong. First, we have good old Boris, who whilst capable of quoting Wagner and any number of Latin and Greek poets, fails any test of sanity. The sound-bite that passes for Davies has now produced a strategy that resembles what we already have, but without any . Fox has, not before time, no doubt been confined to a padded room.

    Meanwhile, the Tories fantasise that the Blessed Theresa will sort it all out. Farron dreams of the baubles that will continue to drop. Jeremy continues to just dream. Farage does not dream because almost all of them have come true.

    Comment by The Realist — December 5, 2016 @ 1:54 pm | Reply

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