Liberal Mafia; The

In the very old days, life was simpler. Before we had cars and televisions and vaccinations and stuff, we were all at one with nature and knew our place. All the white people lived in white countries and danced around maypoles and invented democracy, and all the black people lived in black countries cheerfully playing drums and killing and eating each other, and kings and princes were happy fighting battles, and queens and princesses were happy braiding their beautiful hair and being waited on by ladies in waiting, and peasants were happy tilling the fields with their strong honest hands in the lovely weather that there always used to be. Boys would be boys, and ladies were proper ladies, and men were real men, and nobody had invented gays or Muslims yet. And it all worked fine. Every now and then there would be a girl who wanted to be a boy – Joan of Arc; Queen Elizabeth; George out of The Famous Five (also known as “Boy George” out of Culture Club). And, by and large, men, being naturally easy-going and magnanimous, let them get on with it, especially when they weren’t attractive. And every now and then you’d get someone amusingly camp, such as Kenneth Williams or Oscar Wilde or John Inman or Prince, and we’d all have a laugh at their double-entendres, but they weren’t real gays: they didn’t actually do it. They certainly didn’t Shove It Down Our Throats like they do now.

Fast forward a few decades, and we live in a filthy decadent crumbling empire of sin. Feral hoodie children roam the streets stabbing pensioners with improvised knives made out of their piercings just so they can get enough money for a bag of turkey twizzlers with extra crack cocaine before going home to bully each other into drinking bleach. Most of Britain’s main cities are now entirely under Sharia Law, and any woman who goes out in public without her entire face covered is stoned to death. Paedophiles, radiating from their base at the BBC, sully our parks and pollute our internet, hanging around outside our primary schools and on chatlines and grooming and abducting our lovely smooth-skinned pretty blonde children, who you’re not supposed to fancy until the second they turn 16. And, alongside the paedophiles, their brethren, the gays, who are literally everywhere: getting married in our churches; appearing in the plotlines of our soaps; diluting our nation’s Warrior Spirit and generally Shoving It Down Our Throats. Vast gangs of Romanians and Bulgarians bleed our taxpayers dry, living as many as seven or eight hundred to a bedroom and sometimes improvising homes in between the walls in houses with cavity wall insulation, scaring the children at night with their scratching noises, like rats.

And, at the same time, the scourge of political correctness threatens to censor expressions of our perfectly harmless British sense of humour, so that comedians hoping to spread peace and tolerance by making affectionate jokes that celebrate our cultural diversity are brutally silenced. In a happier time, racial tensions could be eased through comedy, in which cheeky white men with working class regional accents would unite us all in laughter by pointing out little observations that we could all agree on, such as that Irish people are amusingly stupid, Jewish people are amusingly mean, black people are amusingly lazy and stupid, women are amusingly stupid, Indian people are amusingly stupid, Welsh people are amusingly stupid and Scottish people are amusingly mean and stupid. But now they can’t even innocently imply that black people can’t be trusted with any complex tasks without being silently erased from history.

By whom? By a shadowy network of hippies, gays, feminists, Muslims and paedophiles whose tentacles reach deep into this country’s most hallowed institutions; an organisation known only by the three words, whispered with dread by those who dare to risk their retribution: The Liberal Mafia. Well, two words, or two and a half or something. “The” doesn’t really count.


Like the proper Mafia, the Liberal Mafia is not officially recognised; all its work is done in secret, behind closed doors. It comprises many subgroups: the Gay Mafia, which runs most of Britain’s entertainment (apart from the bits they give to the paedophiles) with the express intent of Shoving It Down Our Throats as much as possible; the Feminazis, responsible for the fact that women are so ungrateful and pushy nowadays and hell-bent on stopping us from enjoying the simple innocent pleasure of groping, which is really a compliment; the Muslims, who obviously only live to bring Death to the West through Islamification and cruel halal meat; the Nanny State, which keeps our young people and our poor lazy and disrespectful by indulging their unearned sense of entitlement and providing everything they want without question; the Loony Left, which wants us all to be like the Soviet Union, with everyone queueing for a week just to get a slice of bread and all confusing allegorical cartoons with serialist music on the telly all the time; the Tree-Huggers, who want to bring our noble petrochemical industry to its knees so as to boost their shares in companies that make solar panels; the Europeans Union, which wants to make us release all our murderers and rapists on to the streets; The intellectuals, who twist our arguments and make them look hypocritical and who use elitism and fancy long words in order to make us feel stupid and weaken our resolve. What unites all these groups? A fear and hatred of all that was once strong, good and proud about this great nation. They hate the flag of St. George, and they hate the harmless fun of Page Three girls, and they hate heterosexual marriage, and they hate success, and they hate anyone who dares to step out of line and question their reign of terror.


Although the Liberal Mafia are an unofficial organisation, there are certain media figures who are known to be prominent within its power structure: John Humphrys; Jo Brand; Will Young; Will Self; Clare Balding; Ian Hislop; Lenny Henry; Glenda Jackson; Eddie Izzard. Of all of these, though, the most feared is the vicious war criminal and paramilitary leader “Red” Ken Livingstone, whose bloody reign as Mayor of London is universally agreed to have been worse than the plague, the Great Fire and the Blitz put together. None of these figures have been called to account for their crimes. The authorities do not dare; their paymasters are in the Liberal Mafia’s thrall.


So, what can we do? There used to be a time when we could vote Conservative, but now that the three main parties are officially All The Same, only brave reformists such as the BNP and UKIP stand apart from the corruption and namby-pambiness that is rotting our nation to its core. Of course we can continue the struggle; boycott the BBC and all those places that sell halal food (except Kebab shops and curry houses, because if you eat halal food when you’re drunk, it cancels out the chemical process of Islamification); don’t let your children get piercings. As for proper British heroes who it’s OK to let your kids worship; well, there are precious few. Of course there’s Del Boy (although the jury’s out on David Jason himself, who seems like he might have rather too many gay actor friends to be entirely pukka, to use a term from Old English), and James Bond, because, although he shags foreign ladies, he redeems himself by treating them with no respect, but really the last true role model for British Manhood is the magnificent John Terry.

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