A Nation of Wimps

Political correctness has inevitably dragged us down to a level where our forebears would regard us as a nation of mincing softies lacking any kind of courage or backbone. We can’t be far off the end game now. We have the sorry situation where the British Army is targeting gays and ethnic minorities because the army should be ‘representative of the current demographic’. Bullshit. I don’t care about the army representing the current populace, I just want the best army possible to defend our country be that 100% white, black, gay or heterosexual. We should be recruiting the very best not targeting those we misguidedly believe to be under represented.

Meanwhile the peasants on social media are targeting Ann Widdecombe with pitchforks at the ready and no doubt a pyre prepared ready to burn the heretic. Her sin? She declared her belief that Prince Harry’s bride to be would be trouble for the royal family with her background. Fair enough if that’s what you believe. But the peasant uprising was triggered by cries of racism. Yes, our old friend racism has reared its head yet again for no apparent reason other than the racial obsession of the politically correct. Markle describes herself as being mixed race as her mother has a shot of African in her ancestry somewhere. So in these strange times in which we live criticising somebody who describes themselves as mixed race is racism. But all intelligent, rational people know it isn’t.

What started me on this post was actually a radio programme I heard last week when driving from Lancashire to Sussex. It was the Jeremy Vine Show on BBC Radio 2. Yes, I know, I should have swapped channels but it was my equivalent of rubber necking as I pass a terrible accident, it was so bad I had to carry on and couldn’t bear the idea of switching channels. When I was studying for my degree there was an option to study TV and film history which I resisted for a long time thinking it was the History (my degree) equivalent of media studies. In the end I gave in and really enjoyed studying films such as The Battleship Potemkin and TV series such as Play For Today. TV and film really are excellent pointers to the times in which they were made and the prevailing cultural and political environment. Last week’s radio experience says everything about our new status as a nation of wimps, in years to come people will be shocked at how we let this happen to us.

First up was a woman called Clare Pooley, aka ‘Sober Mummy’. If I told you she thought that shortening her pseudonym to ‘SM’ was a little racy you may get an idea where this is going. Apparently she is an internet phenomenon after giving up booze and blogging about it prior to finally leaving her alias behind and writing a book under her real name. I was immediately drawn in as I work in the ‘hospitality industry’ and quite enjoy a tipple myself.

So as I hit the M6 toll road I tuned in and heard how her life had been running out of control and she was knocking back booze every night after she had put her offspring to bed just to unwind. But the problem got worse and worse and began to take control of her. The tension mounted and I was having visions of her hiding bottles of whisky, rum and assorted other spirits around the house and eventually necking a bottle of White Lightening for breakfast.  Like me Jeremy Vine must have been desperate to know how bad her addiction was. When pressed she owned up. She was necking a bottle of wine a day, sometimes two at weekends. What a fucking let down, one bottle of wine a day and sometimes two at weekends does not an alcoholic make.

When I was growing up I knew blokes who’d have six pints of beer on their way home from work, guzzle a bottle wine with their evening meal then go out for a few pints after that. The father of a friend of mine, who actually was an alcoholic, used to insist on putting the milk bottles out at night as the rest of the family went to bed. He had a bottle of whisky stashed in the garden and would have a slug or three as he put the bottles out. That’s a drink problem.

Clare Pooley is just  another whining, middle class mum claiming victim status and doing a great disservice to people who have been in the absolute gutter of life due to alcoholism and turned their lives around. They’re the people I admire and respect. I’m afraid she’ll have to kick a habit that involves imbibing a lot more than a bottle of wine a day to get my admiration and respect.