Women Attacking Men

In August last year I spent a few days on the Greek island of Mykonos with a couple of Greek fellas (ooh-er). Mykonos is a popular holiday destination for mainland Europeans, particularity young Scandinavians, and at one point I was propping up the bar in a crowded nightclub when a small but angry-looking woman around 20 years of age tried to jam herself into a space beside me. I suppose I could have stood elsewhere but there was very little room where people weren’t jostling one another or leaping about to the music. Her first approach was to try to shove me out the way, and when I didn’t budge (I’m around 90kg) she snarled in a Scandinavian accent: “Can you move, I’m trying to get a drink.” If she’d said “excuse me” to begin with I’d have given her all the room she needed, but her whole attitude reeked of Nordic feminism and the delusions of power which many young women have, born of their ability to wrap their male peers around their little fingers.

So my response was to say “You need to learn some manners,” and stay where I was. She immediately started elbowing me and shoving me, and eventually I shifted six inches to the right, not being willing to let this nonsense continue any more. She squeezed into the space I allowed, and simmered. From what I could tell she was in the company of a few young men and women, the former of which looked like replicas of Owen Jones. And as I sipped my drink I wondered which idiotic society teaches young women to get into physical confrontations with large men in foreign bars. I suspect she knew I wasn’t the type to belt her one, and the club we were in not the sort of place where such men hang out, but still.

I was reminded of this incident when I saw this video:

Whatever the woman’s grievance, and regardless of the wimpishness of the bloke she’s up against, striking the first blow in what was up until that point a verbal confrontation is astonishingly stupid. Clearly she was confident that her homeboy would jump in as soon as it kicked off, and indeed he did, but she can perhaps count herself lucky she’s not needing reconstructive surgery.

Grown men are dangerous beasts, and really shouldn’t be provoked. Most men know this which is why they avoid physical confrontations as soon as they’re old enough to possess a smidgen of wisdom. A grown man, even a late teen, is capable of battering another man to death and in the overwhelming majority of cases a man could easily kill a woman with his bare hands if he so desired. At the very least, he could beat her to the point she’d carry the physical and emotional trauma for the rest of her life. The reason why domestic violence against women is so abhorrent (leaving aside, for now, the fact that many men are also victims) is the disparity in physical power.

Yet there is an increasing number of women who seem to think provoking, or even initiating, physical confrontations with strange men is a good idea. Judging by the videos that circulate on social media, sassy young black women in the UK and US enjoy threat-laden shouting matches with men on public transport, followed by a fight  where they throw the first punch or slap. Although it’s interesting to note, they only do this with white men, never blacks or hispanics. I also noticed that while Nigerian women didn’t mind yelling at their male counterparts in public, you didn’t see them looking to provoke a physical confrontation: there was no getting in their face yelling threats, and the verbals were carried out without entering the man’s personal space. I expect this is because any Nigerian woman who goes around picking fights with men would wind up dead in short order. Russian women are also fully aware of how dangerous their menfolk can be, and few are stupid enough to start a fight in public. It’s almost as if men in London and New York, particularly white men, can be relied upon not to kill or maim a woman who’s attacking them and this has given violently aggressive women confidence.

I expect this is what was behind the Scandinavian girl trying to barge me out the way. She’s used to dealing with men who’ve been emasculated by several generations of hardcore feminism, demanding her own way and getting it every time. TV and film doesn’t help: seemingly every other production features a slip of a woman beating up men three times their size with a series of deft martial arts moves, and I’m wondering if the new generation of empowered young women are starting to think it’s real. If their fathers and brothers had any sense they’d be teaching them to never, ever get into a physical confrontation with a man because with relatively little effort he could put her in hospital for weeks. Women used to know this, and now they don’t; it will cost some of them dearly.


Apartments in Britain and France

I’ve remarked before in the comments on other people’s blogs that one of the factors driving up the costs of British housing (although admittedly not the main one) is the British insistence of living in an independent dwelling, i.e. a house rather than a flat. More often than not, they also insist on having a “garden” which looks less like this:

And more like this:

For some reason, many Brits find the idea of living in high-density housing, i.e. blocks of flats abhorrent and would prefer to pay through the nose for a tiny, damp, decrepit house with half the available footprint rendered useless for living than a warm, comfortable, modern flat. This might be reasonable if you live in the countryside or in a small town, but Brits insist on living in a house even in London. This is why, when you take a train out of any large British city, you pass behind rows and rows of awful terraced housing. Take a train out of any European city and you don’t see individual houses until you’re near the outskirts.

I’ve just spent almost five years living in a suburb of Paris, a five minute walk from the metro station, in a building similar to these, which are typical:

My building was 8 storeys tall, each containing a 1-bed, a 2-bed, and a 3-bed flat. There were 3 buildings in all, so around 75 flats, all sharing communal parking, lifts, entrances, etc. The place I’ve moved to is broadly the same, only 4 buildings and about 150 flats. These are quite new and well built with proper concrete walls and floors; if I lived closer to the centre of Paris, I’d have been in an old building with paper-thin walls, but the communal living concept would have been the same. Some even share a heating and hot water system, but that’s much rarer now with new flats having an individual, fully-electric system (hurrah for cheap nuclear power!). Everyone pays a communal charge based on the surface area of each flat, and that goes towards running costs and maintenance, organised and managed by professional companies who exist for this purpose. I’ve heard of people having problems, but in general it runs quite well. This is how people live in French cities, and many raise families in apartment buildings even if many move further out and buy a house.

If you mention apartment blocks to Brits, though, they think of this:

Unfortunately, these have a terrible reputation because they were primarily used for social housing and stuffed full of people who nobody in their right mind would want as neighbours. And I think that’s the problem: Brits don’t make good neighbours. The British papers are full of stories about neighbours engaged in decade-long feuds, some of which turn violent, over the height of a hedge or the placement of a fence. In all instances the bottom line is, “This  is mine and I’ll do whatever the hell I want!” Whenever I had problems with noisy or anti-social neighbours in Britain, the reaction to any complaint was “It’s my house, I have the right to do whatever I want.” Sealed off in their own small houses, Brits don’t feel the need to consider anyone else. Little wonder moving them en masse to high-density tower blocks didn’t work out, then.

Contrast this with a note I found stuck on the lift in my Paris apartment building last week:

It reads: “Hello everyone, I beg your forgiveness for the noise over the past few days. I was extremely happy to see my friends who no longer live in Paris, and whom I hadn’t seen in over a year. All this is to tell you I am sincerely sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

I am reasonably sure this wasn’t posted after a complaint, too; they put it up having realised they were probably making a racket and in the interests of maintaining good relations with their neighbours (and the body that runs the building). Can you imagine this being posted in the lift of a British apartment block? No, nor me.

Later, someone wrote an addendum:

“Well done, one must enjoy life and especially the good things.”

In many cases, the problem of housing in Britain is not so much the type of accommodation but the mentality and quality of the tenants.


FGM and Forced Marriage in Britain

Yesterday I received a useful demonstration of how much trouble Britain is in if things don’t change soon. It started with this:

With the inevitable exception of some freak outlier cases, FGM is practiced by two groups of people:

1. Certain Muslim cultures (but not all).

2. Certain non-Muslim African cultures (but not all).

Outside of those, FGM doesn’t happen. Insofar as forced marriage is concerned, this can be found among Muslim and non-Muslim cultures in the Middle East and Asia. Does it happen in non-Muslim Africa? I don’t know, but one thing is certain: neither FGM or forced marriage is native to British culture, and both are present in Britain purely because immigrants have brought the practices with them. The reason this special protocol has been established in Birmingham is because of the number of people living in that city from cultures which practice FGM and forced marriages (although whether male chaperones allow girls to take mobile phones to the toilet at the airport is doubtful, doubly so now they know this system is in place).

But of course, nobody wants to actually say who is committing these barbaric acts, it’s easier to pretend everyone does it:

The problem of FGM and forced marriage is worldwide only insofar as the cultures which practice them have spread beyond their geographical homelands. This is the equivalent of saying Turkish is a worldwide language on the basis that no matter which city you’re in, there’s likely someone who speaks it. It’s nonsense of course, as is the claim that FGM and forced marriages are a worldwide problem, but those who claim to be trying to solve it want to pretend otherwise:

Here’s what’s happening. Either sincerely or in order to virtue-signal, young women have taken to Twitter and possibly other platforms to discuss and campaign against FGM and forced marriages. However, they’re either unwilling or unable to bring themselves to admit who is actually doing it, so they simply pretend everyone does – hence the moronic claim “cultures not yet identified” might be mutilating the genitalia of young girls. One person even linked to a Guardian article citing a single instance of it happening to a white American girl in 1947, as if that was relevant to Birmingham in 2018. Alas, things didn’t get any better from there as more millennial feminists joined in:

This sounds more like someone who wants to be seen talking about the problem than someone interested in solving it. Virtue-signalling, in other words.

Then “the problem” is widened by someone else to include spousal abuse, presumably to give the “worldwide” claim stronger legs:

Every single culture suffers from issues involving child sacrifice, devil worship, and increasing housing costs too.

I wonder how many places Madelaine Hanson has lived in, being 22 years old? Not many, judging by this:

Forced marriage in Russia? I know some Caucasian peoples practice it, but ethnic Russians on a widespread basis? In all my time in Russia and speaking to Russians I never heard of a single instance of a woman being forced into a marriage, even among the Sakhalin Koreans who were subject to more pressure than most. This is simply nonsense, and although we knew this already, it tells us that brainless airheads are inserting themselves into matters such as FGM and force marriage. Consider this:

She’s a 22 year old feminist writer and comedian from north London, almost certainly middle class. What actual, tangible help do you think she’s provided to women facing FGM or forced marriage? Do you think she’s even met one face to face?

The most charitable thing which can be said about these empty-headed young women is they mean well, but I suspect that might be too generous. The less charitable version is they’ve adopted FGM and forced marriage as a vehicle for advancing their western feminist ambitions, haranguing ordinary men while making sure they say nothing which may identify the backgrounds of the actual perpetrators. Not content with a wall of silence over Rotherham, British feminists are determined to be wilfully blind on these issues too:

So those who’ve taken the most interest in protocols at Birmingham airport to prevent women being trafficked for FGM and forced marriage are Muslim women? How dense do you have to be to tweet that while claiming it’s widespread across all cultures?

And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Plod shows up:

No, it’s specific to certain cultures which are not native to Britain, hence my incredulity that such measures are required. It’s worth reminding ourselves that whenever we see blithering idiocy from our police or government, there are far too many people who endorse it. The reason why there has been only a single, solitary prosecution for FGM in the UK is the authorities and campaigners don’t actually want to tackle the problem, and are only using the issue for their own ends. Ultimately, the failures of Rotherham and whatever the hell is going on as regards FGM and forced marriages lie with the British people.


Driven to suicide by bullies, or his mother?

There’s something missing from this story:

A nine-year-old boy has killed himself after enduring four days of homophobic bullying at school in Denver, Colorado, his mother says.

Leia Pierce told KDVR-TV that her son, Jamel Myles, revealed to her over the summer that he was gay.

She said Jamel wanted to go to school and tell his classmates because he was “proud” to be gay.

I’ve spent a good portion of this summer staying with families, and the thing that always amuses me about children under ten is how hopelessly, wonderfully innocent they are. They really have no concept of adult life and its vices, and that includes sex and sexuality. Now children can feel attractions of one sort of another, and homosexuals when they reach adulthood say they always knew they felt “different”, but they don’t have the faintest understanding why. This is why sex crimes against children are so abhorrent, they are incapable of understanding what is being done to them. The only way a child of nine can possibly be “proud” to be gay is if his parents, or others around him, have exposed him to sex or drummed sexuality into him long before he’s capable of grasping the concept.

She said that when he had told her he was gay, he looked “so scared”, but she reassured him she still loved him.

If your nine year old son is telling you he’s gay, you should perhaps ask yourself what environment he’s grown up in. Now there is no mention of a father here; what’s the betting this woman raised her children in an ultra-woke environment where they were exposed to swathes of adult sexuality and encouraged to indirectly participate, i.e. talking about it, seeing naked adults, or declaring pride in one’s supposed orientation? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a single mother has forced her son to adopt feminine traits at an age where he cannot possibly understand, let alone object.

“My son told my oldest daughter the kids at school told him to kill himself,” Ms Pierce said.

“I’m just sad he didn’t come to me. I’m so upset that he thought that was his option.”

It sounds as though the child had serious mental problems, probably as a result of his upbringing. What does the mother have to say about that, I wonder?

But there’s another issue here. Supposing it’s true that this child went to school boasting he’s gay and the other kids bullied him so much he committed suicide. What are we going to do about it? That young children can be notoriously cruel is hardly new; most of us read Lord of the Flies at school. Either schools attempt the impossible task of getting under tens to not bully the odd kid, or they start locking up nine year olds for homophobic bullying (or at least sending them home, and perhaps jailing their parents).

There is another option, of course: stop sexualising children so much they are proudly gay at age nine and bragging about it in the school yard. If we let children be children instead of extensions of their parents’ deep insecurities and unwilling participants in their political activism, this wouldn’t be a problem. However, I don’t hold out much hope. The way we’re heading under our current rulers, paedophilia will soon be celebrated (unless the perpetrator is Catholic) and normal parents locked up if their child so much as teases someone in an unapproved manner.


African gangs and racist stubby holders

The incomparable Steve Sailer brings us news from Melbourne:

According to the Australian Establishment, Melbourne has two African gangs problems: the African gangs of street criminals themselves, and, far worse, the Australians who have noticed and even talked about this new problem that the politicians have imported for them to endure.

How can Australia be a democracy when rifts are turned into election issues? The essence of democracy is that elections shouldn’t decide anything.

I understand a good portion of those African gangs are Sudanese, whose presence in the city I heard about during the first week of my arrival. I was in the gym at the astoundingly expensive and very average Novotel watching the news, and a story came up about how a bunch of policemen in the Melbourne suburb of Sunshine had been distributing racist stubby (drinks) holders. They then showed a picture of one of  the offending items:

At which point I stopped the treadmill and said, “Eh?” Apparently, the above image was so racially aggravating to local Sudanese that three police officers were eventually sacked, because:

“Mudfish” is a type of fish and is a common food in many African countries. It is used by some people as derogatory slang for Africans.

Is that cartoon fish with human arms and hands unmistakably a mudfish? Judging by the photos, mudfish don’t even have barbels; it looks more like a catfish to me. And a Google search of “mudfish Africans” brings up several pages of how to catch one but not a single item which might indicate who these “some people” using it as derogatory term might be.

At the time I assumed this would be laughed out of the police complaints office, but oh how naive I was! Now bear in mind I’d spent the previous 10 years living in Kuwait, Dubai, Russia, Thailand and Nigeria where political correctness of this sort simply doesn’t exist. Certainly, in none of those countries is the local police going to find themselves in trouble over complaints made by foreigners, let alone refugees complaining about drinks coolers. I didn’t realise it at the time, but this was my first real exposure to how utterly craven the ruling classes in the west had become. Take this statement:

Chief Commissioner Ken Lay said the police force would not tolerate racist behaviour in any form.

“There is large numbers in the African community that were enormously disturbed by what has happened,” he said. “It sent a very bad message to the broader community that police were not tolerant.

You’ll not tolerate racist behaviour in any form, but you’ll invent it where there is none. Now the Sudanese would have learned from this. They tested the water and found they could get policemen fired in their new home simply by making the most silly of complaints, and now – five years later – they’re running riot around Melbourne confident that the ruling classes who took their side previously will continue to support them. The rot set in a long time ago, and nothing is going to change until those in charge are run out of town on a rail and left to die of thirst in the desert.


Renegades? More like desperados

Via a reader on Twitter, this:

I’ve had so many bad dates in the last five years I thought I’d rather set my hair alight than meet another stranger for a disappointing drink.

This reminds me of something an Elmore Leonard character once said:

“If you run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole. If you run into assholes all day, you’re the asshole.”

It never seems to occur to these women who’ve had hundreds of terrible dates that they might be the problem. So what’s this particular woman going to do instead?

But it’s Friday night and I’m with a gang of women buzzing around East London hitting on hotties IRL and I’m conscious I’ve not had such a fun night out in months. Sure it feels mad to be striding up to a man in a blazer to tell him ‘you look hot in that’ (which he does – in more ways than one) but it beats the hell out of messaging some chap on an app for the umpteenth time who never replies at all.

She’s basically formed a hen party, only nobody’s getting married.

Going Renegade, for the uninitiated, is a new dating movement led by dating guru Hayley Quinn, designed to help us wrest back control from the dating apps that oppress us and meeting men we fancy IRL.

Dating apps, even oppressive ones, do nothing to stop people meeting each other in real life. What might be preventing you finding offline love, however, is your age, your looks, your expectations, your personality, your morals, the decisions you’ve made in the past and what you think of those decisions now.

It helps that we’re several bottles of prosecco down and have one to one support from Hayley’s three-strong team of male dating coaches.

I should have added degree of self-respect to the list above.

We’ve undergone an hour-long crash course in chat up lines and the importance of VEP – ‘visibility, eye contact, proximity’. We’re single and we’re mingling. We’re learning to identify the men who are interested in us and we aren’t waiting for them to make the first move.

So basically, pickup-artistry for women.

Hayley explains that – thanks to so much bogus dating wisdom – while men get to play ‘The Game’ women feel bullied into following ‘The Rules.’ And that’s just ridiculous, outdated, un-feminist nonsense, according to her.

Yes, the reason modern women can’t form stable relationships is because they’re too traditional. Uh-huh.

In fact, her first act in what is essentially a three-day dating bootcamp, is to insist that we are complete in and of ourselves. ‘Women are repeatedly shamed for being single,’ she explains. ‘But the first thing to remember is – you don’t need a man to make you whole.

So the bootcamp starts off by telling participants they don’t really need to be there, adding to any existing delusions. There may be better ways to spend £897.

This is primarily about making dating what it should be – fun. It’s about rediscovering your playful side.’

A red flag for men looking for a partner is any suggestion a woman “likes to have fun”. Every social group at university includes a girl who is a lot of fun to be around, comes down the pub to watch the rugby, and gets drunk a lot. While she may experience no problem getting laid and have plenty of male friends who genuinely like her company, nobody actually wants to date her. There’s a reason for this, and lest you think I’m being sexist, how many women would be impressed by a single man over 30 who talks about “discovering his playful side”? These women need to grow up, not stay stranded in adolescence.

Men, she insists, are just as shy as we are about making an approach when they fancy us and it is ‘empowering’- not embarrassing – to make the first move.

I thought the common complaint among modern women was that men are overflowing with toxic masculinity and won’t take no for an answer?

‘How will anything ever happen if you see a cute guy and then stare at your phone or your shoes?’ she demands.

Or you could try acting normally.

We spend Saturday in Soho – hitting on men in broad daylight, stone cold sober.

There are videos of women experimenting with this approach on YouTube. Most men assume she’s pulling some kind of scam or she’s a hooker. The ones that don’t look as though they’ve not spoken to a woman in years.

On the Sunday, at the Going Renegade HQ near Hackney Central, we work on our flirting techniques. Hayley’s top trick is to ask men to take photographs of you for Instagram. ‘This is the go-first principle whereby offering information about yourself works as a useful prompt to get him to ask you out,’ she says. ‘If you give him your Instagram information, that could lead to a follow and a date.’

Giving out social media information to complete strangers? What could possibly go wrong?

Hayley’s advice is particularly illuminating when it comes to that handsome stranger you lock eyes with on the tube. When this happens she recommends ‘making a kerfuffle’ – pulling things out of your bag or dropping a book at his feet. When he notices, you then follow up with a friendly, open-ended observation before introducing yourself.

The problem with this is, unlike men you meet on a dating site, there is a good chance the handsome stranger is simply going about his business and isn’t looking for a relationship, let alone one with a stranger he’s met on the tube. Aren’t women forever complaining about men harassing them on the public transport, trying to get their number? Bit of a double-standard there, no? I expect the only thing that would come from such an approach is a lot of embarrassing rejections along the lines of “sorry, I’m seeing someone” and blokes who snap up the chance of an easy lay.

‘You have to give a man time to realise that you really are chatting him up,’ Hayley teaches. ‘We’ve been so well trained in “stranger danger” since we were at school it’ll take him a few minutes to catch up with what’s going on and be able to respond in kind. Be sure to exchange names because that’s very powerful.’

Years of feminists branding all men as dangerous sex-pests have resulted in the criminalisation of ordinary male courtship behaviour. Men have taken note, are giving women a wide berth, and now women have to come up with weird and humiliating methods of getting their attention. Girl power!

Initially, I was very sceptical. Also incredibly nervous. But if you’re courageous enough to try them, Hayley’s techniques certainly work. On the journey home, one member of our group, Poonam, struck up a conversation with a man who’d just run the London marathon. She asked for his email so she could contribute to his JustGiving fund. And several hours later he emailed back – asking her out to dinner.

Right, but your problem wasn’t that you lovely lasses couldn’t get dates, but that they were terrible. Does meeting a man on the way home, even one who’s run the London marathon, give you a better chance of avoiding bad dates than online dating? Not for the first time in articles like this, the conclusion brings us back to where we started. So what’s the point of it? Ah, of course:

Bad Romance by Emily Hill is available to buy in Hardback now.

There’s a book to flog; I might have known.


Circle Jerk

To get things started, this:

Jamie Oliver has said he named his new product “punchy jerk rice” to show where he drew his culinary inspiration from.

Oliver’s rice mixes garlic, ginger and jalapenos “to create a jerk marinade with attitude”.

I know a lot of people like Oliver’s cheeky Essex-boy shtick and lord knows it’s made him rich, but boy I find it irritating. I’ve tried using his recipes before and they’re full of silly descriptions and flippant remarks, often in places where you need some clear direction. The informal, who-cares approach may have worked when he burst onto the scene as a young man with The Naked Chef, but now he’s 43 and so laid back he wants the government to tell everyone what they can and can’t feed their children, he sounds like someone who’s never grown up. And the problem with trying to be popular and down wiv the masses (even though his fan base is exclusively middle class) is he attracts the attention of idiots like Dawn Butler:

In a tweet the Shadow Equalities Minister wrote to Oliver: “I’m just wondering, do you know what Jamaican jerk actually is? It’s not just a word you put before stuff to sell products. Levi Roots should do a masterclass. Your jerk rice is not OK. This appropriation from Jamaica needs to stop.”

If Britain was a serious country and adults were in charge the pressing question on everyone’s minds would be how such a complete imbecile has attained elected office. Instead, everyone is running around contesting the absurdity which is “cultural appropriation”, as if logic and reason are answers to a child flinging shit. Butler should have been ignored or mocked into oblivion, but instead she’s generating headlines.

And this amuses me:

The chef and entrepreneur Levi Roots has described Jamie Oliver’s decision to launch a jerk rice dish as a mistake, as a row over cultural appropriation widened.

From what I remember, Levi Roots turned up on Dragon’s Den with a guitar and some of his grandmother’s homemade sauce. Pasty-white Englishman Peter Jones, who is good mates with the bloke in charge of purchasing for Sainsbury’s, agreed to back Roots for a hefty cut of the business. One phone call to his mate later and kerr-ching! Instant success. Now Roots has gone onto open some successful restaurants which is more than Jamie Oliver managed, and I don’t begrudge him his fame and fortune. But I don’t see how Roots getting Peter Jones to flog his grandma’s sauce into Sainsbury’s makes him an authority on Jamaican cooking, much less one who deems it appropriate to tell another chef what to do. Does he even have a chef’s qualification, as French chefs must in order to be taken seriously? No, he doesn’t.

So in summary, we have a politician telling an unqualified chef/guitarist to teach a former pastry chef, who may have made a pig’s ear of a dish, to give a masterclass on how to do it properly. Little wonder British cuisine is subject to global mockery; the problem is, with stories like this making front page news, the mockery is no longer restricted to the food.


Of Street Turds and Culture

There are several arguments which could be made to contest the Economist Intelligent Unit’s ranking of the world’s most liveable cities, especially concerning how they measure “culture” which, rather implausibly, put Adelaide in the top 10 a few years back. Yet despite this open goal, one Chibundu Onuzo writing in The Guardian misses the target completely:

A few months ago, I stepped out one morning and saw a coil of animal poo on the doorstep. My mother and I spent a long time trying to figure out what sort of animal had done the deed. We decided, in the end, that a fox was the culprit. But it could also have been a racist.

Racists can can shit fox poo? Who knew?

The incident has occurred twice but as we’ve got rid of the evidence both times, we’ll never know.

You didn’t think to take a photo? Fox shit looks quite a bit different from human shit, even if it’s been curled out by a racist.

I am not the only one who has had a similar experience in London. Just search “poo on doorstep”. It occurs frequently enough to have generated several threads on the internet.

The author lives in London, where I am sure many British people want open and frank discussions about how and why shit has started appearing on the streets, and who is leaving it there. Is that what the author wants? No:

Yet, when ranking the world’s best cities to live in last week, the mighty statisticians of the Economist Intelligence Unit didn’t take into account “likeliness to find a turd on your front doorstep”.

How do you know?

In the 14 years I lived in Lagos, I never once found faeces in front of my house. Yet Lagos is judged one of the 10 least liveable cities in the world, and London comes much higher in the desirability rankings, at number 48.

Firstly, part of the reason London is ranked 48 and not 8 is because it is becoming increasingly filled with people who shit in the streets. Secondly, whereas I confess I never saw a turd in the street in Lagos I put that down to the fact that those shitting in public did so a little off the beaten path. If this lady had a small canal running behind her house, for example, it would probably have resembled an open sewer. This is what greeted a colleague of mine in Nigeria one day when he chanced to look out of his office window:

There are in fact two toilets in the photo: the portacabin on the right belonging to a building site and a concrete beam across a drainage canal belonging to whoever feels like taking a dump, in public, in broad daylight (the exact location of the above incident is here).

Granted, I have no problems with some of the things the index does track, such as crime rates, the efficiency of transportation networks, and quality of healthcare. All are important, and improve one’s experience of a city. Lagos scored low in all these categories and as a Lagosian, I readily admit that we can do better in all these areas.

Similarly, when appraising their visit to Baghdad in 1258, the Mongols admitted their conduct could have been gentler.

But I’d certainly question how cities were ranked in some of the other areas that make up the index. In the culture and environment category, which includes recreational activities, Vienna scored 96.3 out of 100 and Lagos just 53.5. Now I’ve been to Vienna, and I’ve lived in Lagos, and there is no way Vienna is 43 points ahead of Lagos in culture and environment.

Whereas I’ll not say Lagos is devoid of culture – it isn’t – the culture that there is, outside of bars showing premier league football and six nations rugby, is wholly Nigerian. Which makes it great for a Lagosian, but for a foreigner it’s not very accessible.

Just ask Emmanuel Macron, who recently made a pilgrimage to Fela Kuti’s New Afrika Shrine in Lagos.

Can we ask him if he believes Lagos to be culturally superior to Vienna? Or do you reckon, what with him being a Parisian, he’ll think the lack of shit on the streets counts against it?

Lagos is a city of galleries under bridges, where artists paint and display for free.

Yeah, I’m sure Vienna has street artists too.

Every weekend there is a royal wedding that shuts down roads and stops traffic.

Erm, this isn’t a good thing. Roads being closed arbitrarily by paramilitary forces in Ray-Bans bearing AK-47s count against cities hoping to elevate themselves on livability indices.

Lagos is a city of fashion, home to the third biggest film industry in the world, and its Afrobeat music pulses out to reach the ears of a global audience.

Whereas Vienna only has Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart, Schubert and Strauss. And who’s heard of them?

It’s obvious the statisticians didn’t know where to look.

In their defence, they were probably advised not to leave the hotel. The author concludes:

So whether you judge Lagos liveable or not, Lagosians will go on living and thriving there.

Yet strangely you left, and moved to London. This is not surprising. I noticed when studying the reaction to my infamous post on Nigeria that its most aggressive defenders seemed to be living abroad and doing quite well.


Sorry Plod, you’re on your own

Plod doesn’t really get it, does he:

Firstly, the reason a lone policewoman is struggling to get the cuffs on a drunk male is because someone decided women could do the job just as well as men and physical standards went out the window. This is what happens when the purpose of an organisation is changed to serve as a vehicle for progressives to enact their deranged fantasies as part of an overall aim of undermining society and the institutions on which it depends.

Secondly, people are reluctant to intervene in such situations because – largely thanks to Plod’s idiocy – the personal risks are too high.

Thirdly, as I said the other day, the public are increasingly seeing the police if not quite aligned against them, then certainly not on their side. Only if you pointed this out to Twitter Plod, they’d close ranks, start issuing threats, cite dubious government surveys which say “the emergency services” are as popular as ever, declare you a problem and “biased against the police” and, finally, block you. I’ve learned not to bother. Proposals like this amuse, though:

Is this going to be reciprocal, do you think? So if an ordinary citizen requests help from the police and they do nothing, Plod gets charged with the same offence? Yeah, sure. But what’s ironic is the police have spend decades creating a monopoly of force by disarming the public and prosecuting anyone who defends themselves, or “takes the law into their hands” as they call it. They are insistent the public should stand well back, or submit to getting their houses burgled or their heads kicked in, until the police show up as only Plod is permitted to deal with such things. Only now we find the police are manifestly incapable of doing half the stuff they’ve claimed a monopoly over and need the public’s help. But it’s not there, and Plod’s on his own. Who’s fault is that, then?


Idris Elba as James Bond

I’m a little late, but this is worth commenting on:

Idris Elba has posted a cryptic tweet suggesting he could be the next James Bond.

Days after reports that a producer of the franchise is tipping him to be 007, he posted: “My name’s Elba, Idris Elba”.

Fans are taking it as a big hint that he could be about to take on the role when Daniel Craig leaves next year.

There’ve been rumours linking Idris to the Bond role since 2014, which he’s neither confirmed nor denied.

Taken in isolation, this isn’t too bad an idea. Idris Elba is a decent actor (although he has turned in some awful performances), and like Daniel Craig he has both physical presence and suavity. Personally I think the James Bond franchise should have been binned once and for all after the godawful Spectre, but if they’re going to insist on flogging this dead horse you might as well cast Elba as anyone else. Sure he’s probably too old and many will wonder how MI6 ended up recruiting a Baltimore drug dealer as their top agent, but neither of these should count against him. Again, taken in isolation, nor should his being black. A black James Bond might seem a little odd and out of whack with the books, but that ship sailed a long time ago. So in itself, and as a comment on Elba’s suitability for the role, I don’t have a problem.

However, any decision to cast a black actor as James Bond cannot be separated from the culture war which is raging around us. It would be nice if people could adopt the same attitude to Elba as rugby league fans did to Ellery Hanley when he became captain of Great Britain in 1988, or damned near everyone did when Daley Thompson cleaned up in 1984. I understand this era was pretty awful for black or mixed-race kids at school or on the street, but nobody in those days was trumpeting the achievements of a talented black person as being a victory over whitey. People cheered for Frank Bruno, Jason Robinson, Martin Offiah, Nigel Benn, and Chris Eubank as well as the numerous black performers and musicians in Britain’s cultural scene without resorting to zero-sum race war score-keeping. But we live in a different era, one where we’re told that a black person taking a nominally white position is hugely important in itself, a redressing of the balance currently tipped in favour of “white privilege”. And unfortunately, after a decade of poisonous identity politics, they are right: Idris Elba playing James Bond would be important in itself, and not in a good way.

Something the ZMan has pointed out is that minority groups are increasingly acting as though they’ve won the decisive battle in a war. Pulling down the symbols and statues of one’s enemy is the act of a conquering army, and that’s precisely what’s happening in the UK, US, and Canada. Meanwhile, within mere weeks of the Supreme Court ruling in his favour over his refusal to make a cake for a gay wedding, the Colorado baker is back in court after a transgender woman filed a discrimination suit against him. When someone decided to remake Ghostbusters in 2016 with an all-female cast, it was presented by culture warriors as a victory for feminism. When it tanked, misogyny was blamed. The forces behind identity politics spare no efforts in seeking opportunities to capture ground, celebrate a victory, and in it rub the noses of those they see as their enemies, i.e. ordinary white men and their families. Indeed, New Labour’s entire immigration strategy seems to have been created purely to spite the native British population by shoving “diversity” in their faces and calling anyone who complains a racist. Within minutes of the rumours of Elba playing Bond hitting social media it was full of SJW’s delighted by how much this would upset “racists”, by which they mean anyone getting a little fed up of identity politics being rammed down their throats twenty-four-seven. For instance:

There is plenty of this sentiment echoed on Twitter, and they might have a point if the only people who have mixed feelings about the idea are racists who don’t like blacks. But what I suspect is bothering many people is that Elba cast as Bond will deepen the wounds of the ongoing culture war. We’ll have endless Guardian articles telling us on the one hand that a black James Bond shows how wonderfully multi-cutural and diverse Britain is, while on the other it’s still steeped in racism and unable to move on from its colonial past. Anyone who objects to such extrapolations from a single casting will be denounced as racist and, probably, banned from Twitter – along with anyone who gives the actual film a less-than glowing review. And if there was not at least one article in a mainstream media outlet demanding a transgender James Bond, I’d be astounded.

As the Zman said, the SJWs and militant minorities believe they’ve won and are enjoying what they think are victory parades. In reality, the war has barely got started and all we’ve seen so far are small, opening battles which is shaping up to be a long and bloody campaign which can only have one winner. Given where we are now, compared to even five years ago, I’d hazard a guess a lot of people uncomfortable about Elba playing Bond are less concerned with the colour of his skin than how it will be used by sections of the left to further and deepen the ongoing culture war. It was not the racist right that created identity politics but the woke left; ordinary people have been fervently wishing this war would end but, with no prospect of that in sight, increasing numbers have decided enough is enough and started to push back. Unfortunately, this means fighting on the ground the left have chosen, and in this case it’s Idris Elba playing James Bond. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but sadly it is. It’s a shame because Elba seems like a good sort and I’m sure he didn’t ask for this, but as Trotsky didn’t quite say, culture war is interested in you.

I don’t think there’s anything to the rumours of Elba playing Bond – they’ve been circulating for years – but if the producers move ahead with it, they should prepare themselves for an shitstorm that may render the film unmarketable. It won’t be a question of right wingers objecting to Elba’s casting per se, but of its inevitable weaponisation by those who want to see them eradicated, or at least cowed into silence. Nobody batted an eyelid back in 2006 when Felix was played by a black man in Casino Royale, and I doubt a black Bond would have done much other than raise a few eyebrows and cause some muttering. Alas, that was a long time ago. We’re now neck-deep in a nasty, vicious culture war which is taking no prisoners, and until recently has been heavily one-sided. But now the other side is turning up, the rules are about to change. Depressingly, this probably means a black James Bond is a near impossibility – at least for a while.