Tuesday, April 23, 2024
HomeCulture WarIn time of war, take a picture of your lunch

In time of war, take a picture of your lunch


WELL, that’s it. We’re utterly bonkers, stark staring mad. The country has lost its collective marbles.

Can you hear that sound? It’s the overture to World War III and it’s been playing for some time. And what are we doing? Are we girding up our loins, redoubling our armed forces and singing the National Anthem morning, noon and night? Of course not! Egged on by the hysterical and petulant mass media and paralysed by our mental incapacity, we are baying for the Prime Minister’s resignation because he ate a piece of birthday cake given to him by the colleagues he worked with all day long.

Britain has become an open-air lunatic asylum. Antisocial imbeciles lie down in the middle of the M25 and hold up the traffic, causing havoc in the transportation and distribution of essential supplies, preventing ambulances getting critically ill patients to hospital – all in the cause of a psychotic delusion about changes in the weather. Throw them in the back of dustcarts and deposit them in the cells then? No: instead, district court judge Stephen Leake publicly praises them

A 6ft 3in man decides to call himself a woman so he can compete in women’s swimming events. And this loopy, narcissistic, fraudulent performance is of the sort described last week by Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, as ‘a sacred journey’.

Last year schools in the Midlands banned the game of conkers, and this year there are health warnings about dangerous daffodils.

A council in Gloucestershire tried to ban the Cooper’s Hill cheese-rolling competition because it was ‘possibly injurious to health’.

‘Health correspondents’ fill page after page in he newspapers with new wheezes to cure ‘the obesity crisis.’ In a sane world, people would be told, ‘If you’re too fat, eat less!’ In fact, in a sane world, they wouldn’t even have to be told. Are there no scales? Are there no tape-measures? Instead, restaurants are being urged to list the calories in every dish on the menu. Millions stuff themselves day in, day out with junk so sugary and vile as to put you off eating for ever.

We have buses for babies which say on the front, ‘Sorry, I’m not in service.’

A clothing retailer was forced to withdraw its advert showing a white girl with her arm on a black girl’s head. The absurd charge was ‘racism’ – despite the fact that the juxtaposition of the two girls was innocent, affectionate even. And, for heaven’s sake, they were sisters!

Rickets is making a comeback because the health police command we stay out of the sun.

A footballer kicks his cat and instantly it becomes national news.

What drives folks to take endless photos of themselves? And of their lunch?

Why is everyone uttering drivelling inanities on the mobile phone all the time?

Round at a friend’s the other week and sitting in the smallest room in the house, I glanced idly at the wrapper on the packet of loo rolls which gave me instructions on the correct way to wipe my bottom.

The engines of world war are rumbling ever more loudly, but we ignore them and concentrate what’s left of our feeble minds on lunacies such as I have just mentioned. And I might have filled a whole book with a list of even more obscene nonsenses.

But what’s the point? I’ve done this many times before, and no one takes a blind bit of notice.

War is coming, a bloody big war, a war such as we haven’t seen since 1945. Maybe it won’t be long before we start chucking nuclear weapons around. No doubt every intercontinental ballistic missile will carry a warning: ‘May damage your health’.

We don’t deserve to survive.

Writing about our upcoming Armageddon made me hungry, so I picked up some peanuts. It said on the packet ‘contains nuts’. So does Britain, mate. Innumerable nuts.

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Peter Mullen
Peter Mullen
Peter Mullen is a Church of England clergyman, writer and broadcaster

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