I’m not sure why I was scrolling through and watching Jacob Rees-Mogg interview videos on YouTube, but I was.
I think it was perhaps because I wanted to see if he was more than a caricature of what 17th century peasants thought their land-owners looked like; Barely, is the answer to that musing.
I’m used to Tory politicians looking like evil cartoon characters from the Beano. In fact, it appears as though the more cartoonish you look, the more success you find within the Conservative party.
Growing up, I have vague memories of William Hague, Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Howard, all of whom looked like generic geography teachers. Generic geography teachers who you really think your female classmate from back in the day should come forward about, because we now know that was assault — but generic nonetheless.
Then along came David Cameron, a much younger leader. I’m sure many tory housewives up and down the country considered him to be handsome. They were wrong, of course, as they were just blinded by a twenty-year loveless marriage. One that started off strong, but after six months they realised that marrying a guy who manages a team of people who sell insurance to antique wardrobe connoisseurs, might not be the life they wanted — and that perhaps they shouldn’t have broken up with that poet back at Oxford.
Anyway — Cameron was often called a lizard-man in a lizard-skin, as a joke by the left, due to his rounded race and oily flesh. Nowadays if that happened, we’d have an entire 100,000 follower Twitter-feed dedicated to proving that he was in fact a lizard, and an internet radio show that claimed to prove it on a nightly basis, whilst selling you protein shakes and kitchen knives — for the “lizard-man invasion”.
Finally, along came Theresa May, who despite looking like the wicked witch of the South by South East, had nothing on the twisted, bile-filled features of Margaret Thatcher — who I can only assume is currently receiving oral sex from Satan himself (as I type these words, there’s an image for you), due to the sheer number of people who died at the hands of her policy.
So for a while, I gave May a pass. She was a regular villain, and not a horrifically cartoonish one. Then she opened her mouth to say words about herself, and she revealed that she’s perhaps more cartoonish than the rest of them.
The naughtiest thing she’s ever done, she claims, is skipping through fields of wheat as a young girl. Whereas I’d say that the naughtiest thing she’s ever done is either voting against hunting bans, or voting against making it illegal to discriminate against people in the workplace. One of those two.
If May manages to cling onto power until Brexit officially happens in March 2019, then no doubt a serious leadership challenge will come soon after. Obviously it’s been Alexander Johnson’s dream to run the country since he was a tiny hairpiece, and I think a good portion of the country would let him. If Trump can happen in America, then Alex can happen in the UK.
Elites and upper middle-classes would think that voting for Alexander would be a hilarious joke, as two million lower middle-class and working class people are tricked (via Facebook ads) into voting for a man who went to Eton and who uses the bodies of Northerners to warm the halls of his country home. Which isn’t true, but everything else in this piece absolutely is.
Or there’s Jacob Rees-Mogg, an even more out-of-touch, cartoonish posho than Alex Johnson, who when asked about leadership goals has always says, “Absolutely not, I support the prime-minster,” while salivating and rubbing his palms together.
I’m not going to dive into the prejudices and presumed policy of Rees-Mogg here, as they can all be summed up by the fact that he hides behind the Catholic church on many issues. He says he agrees that people should marry whomever they want, but that the Catholic church opposes same-sex marriage and so he must too. Basically, if an outlandish Papal decree happens, it would become British law under Rees-Mogg.
In an interview conducted by Owen Jones, which I expected to be more explosive than it actually ended up being, Rees-Mogg admitted that he hadn’t cried since he was a boy, and scoffed at the idea of a grown man crying or expressing emotion.
I’m going to put it to you now, dear reader, that this single example sums up everything that’s wrong with the modern Tory party.
Suicide is the biggest killer in men under the age of 45, bigger than cancer. 75% of people who commit suicide in the UK are men, and this is often attributed to a culture of men being told they have to stay strong and not talk about their feelings. The fact that Rees-Mogg can mock the idea of men outwardly displaying human emotion, when encouraging men to open up can literally save lives, is reprehensible.
Sidenote: If you’re someone who reads my blog who is worried about “men’s rights”, then you should be encouraging men to open up about their feelings, which will help to combat the epidemic of male suicide rates.
Imagine being one of the people running the UK, as Rees-Mogg is, and seeing that a portion of citizens have to use food banks on a regular basis and not cry. Imagine knowing the exact statistics of migrant children sent back to war-torn landscapes and then not cry. Imagine being in office during absolute tragedies like Grenfell Tower or the Manchester Arena bombing, and not absolutely weeping for needless loss of life.
Nobody is saying you have to have lived through those things Jacob, we’re all born into different places in this society, and we ultimately can’t control that. But it’s called empathy, and a good leader has it in spades.
I’d worry for the UK if someone like him became leader, but then again I worry for the UK under most conservative politicians. This is due to the obvious and apparent lack of the leadership quality I value the most, partially due to my Christian upbringing, and that’s empathy. Because, Rees-Mogg, Jesus wept.
I know that I let real-world events get to me more than I should, but if I didn’t cry whilst looking at the inequalities in this world or after major tragedies like school-shootings or terror attacks, then I’d eventually myself be a statistic. Or even worse, I’d be Jacob Rees-Mogg.
Today is Saturday, July 28th and my cat just landed a diving cross-body on me.