Socialists & The Daily Mail Have A Lot In Common

For all their mutual loathing, the Daily Mail and Socialists have an embarrassing amount in common.

It’s hard to leaf through the Daily Mail without coming to the conclusion that humanity peaked around 1952 and has been going downhill ever since. The Mail and its readers have a romantic view of yesteryear Britain, a social conservative wet-dream of god-fearing Brits, living in cottages, with stay-at-home mothers dusting portraits of the Queen and baking traditional cakes (non of that foreign muck). This Britain is more ethnically homogenous, where homosexuals have the decency to pretend to be straight when in public.

Socialists too have a warped sense of that past, where literally everybody knew everybody else (before Thatcher made it illegal, or something), where every man, woman, child, dog and badger were unionised, all joyously working in glorious tractor factories. Oh, and there was no crime…Thatcher invented crime to keep the workers down.

Although not the only two to use the tactic of deploying anecdotes as evidence, both socialists and the Daily Mail are fond of wheeling out stories of heartache or injustice to push their agenda. For Mail, it’ll be a market trader fined for advertising in imperil rather than metric, and how this clearly goes to show that Brussels wants to liquidate every small business. A typical socialist example would be a Morning Star story about a school leaver who unsuccessfully applied for a job as regional director of a FTSE 100 company, failing only because savage Tory cuts are deliberately crushing aspirations.

Perhaps the most annoying trait socialists and the Daily Mail share is claiming to speak for you, the average citizen. Both Progressives and Social Conservatives have an infuriating habit of believing that they know what’s best for people. I for one have no desire to live in the Mail’s world of death penalties, school canings and veiled xenophobia. Nor do I believe that my only identity should as a faceless ‘worker’. I do not believe that rich people are the enemy, or that a company earning more that £36.74 profit a year in profit must be in league with the devil.

Despite both claiming to represent ‘real Britain’, both have painted themselves as the plucky underdog, the victim of some vast conspiracy orchestrated by…you guessed it, the other one. The Mail will devote many a column inch to the insidious machinations of the Left, who’ve infiltrated and undermined national institutions. With the shared conscious of the Borg, there’s some synchronised effort get Common Purpose types into key positions, at which time the signal will be sent and the coup will be complete. For socialists, the Daily Mail is one of the primary propaganda tools of a monolithic Establishment continuing to brainwash the proletariat. The mis-information stream is clearly the only reason socialism isn’t the dominant force in British politics, because voters don’t know how to make the ‘correct’ choice at elections. The socialist narrative and identity demands they always have to be weak and their enemies strong, else you can’t really call it a struggle.

Linked to the previous point, both have mastered the art of being in a state of perpetual shrill rage. Though we shouldn’t be surprised at this as people respond to exaggerated bad news or dire predictions; it’s why conspiracy theories and disaster movies still resonate. Normal and stable are boring; imminent catastrophe? Now you’re talking!

With the Mail it’s the fear the 400 billion Romanians are poised to invade Surrey, that wind farms turning our children gay, or that Brussels plans to ban teapots. Meanwhile socialist blood boils that ONLY one-third of the workforce are Public Sector. They’re seething that people are allowed to defy the Collective and enrol their children in free schools or use private health care. They bristle that the State doesn’t administer every company with an annual turnover above 84p.


Mercifully for the rest of us, both are gradually retreating further and further into their respective echo chambers where the dulcet tones of righteous indignation reverberate.



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