IN just over a month, social conservatism has taken two hammer blows:
1) The election of Boris Johnson as PM;
2) The death of Sir Roger Scruton.
Boris Johnson, that perpetual adolescent, is a cross between Toad of Toad Hall and the Mad Hatter. On the campaign trial, smashing through a wall on a JCB you could almost hear him ‘poop-pooping’ at the top of his voice. Putting a reporter’s phone in his pocket, hiding in a fridge. What jolly japes. How many marriages? How many affairs? How many children? How many lies? Who cares? Life is for living. A world with no grown-up responsibilities, no Badger to bring him back to boring reality.
Forget Brexit, forget immigration. Maybe BoJo struck a chord with the working class of the northern ‘red wall’ with his ‘All shall have prizes’ economic policy. How many of these new Tories (I use the term very loosely) are ‘wards of the state’, who without benefits would not be able to put a (subsidised) roof over their heads?
BoJo and his party (I can’t bring myself to use the term Conservative) promises to throw money at these people via the NHS, ‘living wage’ and by keeping benefits at their absurdly high levels. The feckless will be rewarded; cultural Marxism continues to rule the UK!
The death of Sir Roger Scruton could not have come at a worse time politically. We now have no respected voice to urge caution over Johnson’s ‘spend, spend, spend’ red Tory/blue Socialist agenda. Remember, the Salisbury Review was started as a reaction to Thatcherism’s obsession with economics, and rejection of our culture and history. Sir Roger always followed one path, the path of social conservatism. Where are we left now without him?
