The fourth month of Annus Apocalypsis opened with another atrocious, though not astonishing, panorama of the end times: namely, the ConDem coalition’s proposal to play peekaboo with the nation’s online interactions.
Others thought it a tragically unfunny April Fool prank; I knew better.
As much as I thought them to be worthless cunts from Day One, with their “Big Society” snake oil and scapegoating of the lower classes, I gave the ConDems credit for one thing: dismantling the biometric ID card system of the previous Labour government. If nothing else, they’d at least eradicated Labour’s creeping totalitarianism, right?
Two incidents led me to erase said credit: their attempts to block the nation’s access to filth in December of 2010; and reading of their plan to resurrect those draconian databases in a manner more to their liking last May…
A prototype of the new system is due to be in place as soon as October this year. It will aim to reliably identify users of government websites, as part of plans to deliver more public services via the web.
George Osborne believes the shift online will cut Whitehall administration costs and so help soften the blow of spending cuts over the next few years.
Several private companies that already hold personal data, including credit card providers, will be involved in the system.
Such firms have already verified their customers’ identities, so privacy campaigners hope government will not itself collect personal data, in contrast to the National Identity Register that was to be the basis of ID cards.
I rolled my eyes, laughed at the typical bait ‘n’ switch, and utterly dismissed the delusion that these ConDem cunts gave a fuck about civil liberties. Further attempts at infringement served only to strengthen my dismissal.
So, when I heard about this panoptic proposal, it didn’t so much sound like a volte-face as it did an escalation.
At the apex of this proposed defecation loomed the ghoulish visage of Home Secretary Theresa May, who stepped up to defend her pet project with the reliable thought-killers of “security”, “paedophilia”, and “terrorism”; as the bitch received backlash—some of it from her fellow party members—she found herself flanked by King Cameron of Cuntalot and his (not-so) noble squire, the supposedly liberal Justice Secretary Kenneth Clarke. Despite this, the ConDem cuntingent soon found itself on the backpedal, thanks to those few among their ranks who remembered the meaning of the word “liberal”.
Still, hard though it may be to believe, these parliamentary predators actually have fans amongst their potential prey. Ever fearful of the kiddy-fucking Islamist bogeymen beamed into their living rooms, said souls give an eager nod to every piece of liberty-limiting legislation whored out to them through the media, regardless of the cost. Worse, in between slurps on the gonads of government, they see fit to counter dissent with this slavish slice of law-abiding citizenship…
If you’ve got nothing to hide, you’ve got nothing to fear.
…which simply inspires me—depending on my mood—to either laugh, groan, or shake my head.
Whenever some Slave Britannian utters those words, or some variation thereof, I wonder why they wear clothes and live behind locked doors; I also wonder whether they bother drawing their curtains before treating themselves to a quick hand shandy or a spot of how’s-your-father with the missus.
Sometimes, my thoughts turn to one Jean Charles De Menezes: a man who also thought he had nothing to fear—until he actually did!
Perhaps these peons think that they’re signalling some kind of moral superiority from the signposted reprobates and “sympathizers” in their midst; what these fucking numpties certainly signal is their abject slavishness, and—more importantly in this instance—their myopic conceit, assuming the inoffensive activities they engage in today won’t become illegal tomorrow. What happens if the health Stasi decide that public smoking bans are only half-arsing it and declare smoking in any space verboten “for the sake of the children” and “the national wellbeing”?
I must admit that some part of me longs to find out; wishes for these complacent cocksuckers to get exactly the repression they crave: CCTV in their living rooms, toilets, bathrooms, bedrooms, watching to see if they indulge in the pastimes they currently enjoy without penalty.
That I’d be under the same scrutiny would be a small price to pay for the pleasure of shoving their smarmy little shibboleth back up their arses when they come a-crying.
That said, given how readily they assume the position now, these April Fools might very well enjoy the buggery…
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