High life | 4 October 2018

To London for much too brief a visit: a marriage, lunch with Commodore Tim Hoare, and a look-see for a house. Yes, I am returning to live in London, but under one condition. It’s called Corbyn, and if he comes in, I’ll stay away. It’s rather cowardly, I know, but I did live in London during the closed shops of the early 1970s. I experienced the joys of the three-day week, the uncollected rubbish, the hospitals without electricity, and the unions exercising power over the government until a certain Margaret Thatcher put a stop to it.

I find it hard to understand how people can root for Labour when the party is now openly a communist one. But its friends at the BBC and other channels, and in other parts of the media, pretend otherwise. Back in the 1970s, patriotic Brits such as David Stirling were thinking of mounting a coup to save the nation from going Stalinist. Maggie took care of that, but where’s our Maggie now? Mother Theresa won’t cut it. The irony, of course, is that the usual suspects were pro-Soviet back then, and are very anti-Russian now. Go figure, as gents are not supposed to say. They’re also not supposed to say ‘Fuggedaboutit’ but they should forget about any investment in the UK as long as Labour is about to nationalise everything except for the poor little Greek boy, who will be staying away. I think it goes beyond recklessness on the part of the media not to point this out. By the time they do, it will be too late. Marxist Britain will not be a pretty picture. At least Venezuela has a better climate, as does Nicaragua. And Cuba.