REJOICE – he’s here! And so is the reception committee. Working just across the river at Waterloo, I couldn’t resist a peep at the supposedly massive anti-Trump protest at Westminster. Mid-afternoon in the sunshine, should be a jamboree of virtue-signalling, eh?
The blimp, in all its orange glory, was being carted away from Parliament Square. £16 thousand for that? But the hubris was most exposed by the attendance. Hardly the predicted two hundred thousand – I’d say it struggled into four figures.
To be fair, it was a ‘come-as-you-please’ affair. And by the time of my arrival, many were heading home, saving their ‘Bollocks to Brexit’ stickers for another day.
Of course, the protestors were mainly white, mainly middle-class, and mainly female. Although there were several ‘soy boys’ with their placards too. T-shirt slogans declared moral rectitude: ‘’No quality without equality’, ‘The future is female’, and so on. One woman had half a sociology essay on her (fortunately flat) chest: ‘If you can’t say anything that isn’t racist, Islamophobic, sexist, homophobic, transphobic(blah, blah0.. please be quiet’. I wonder if she wears that specially for her dad or granddad.
In the sparsely-populated square, a very shouty woman was reciting an excruciatingly hectoring poem about fascism, racism and more fascism. That was just the first verse. The second ventured into new territory: hate, hatred and more hate. The mic was then passed to another orator, named Shazi(or something like that). Not much of a Variety show, this. Simply more about fascism, racism and hate.
Does anyone enjoy these gigs? At best, it’s a communal outpouring of emotionalist projection: an extended three-minute hate. It made me look forward to the Free Tommy and pro-Trump events tomorrow, and the more reasoned delivery of the likes of Raheem Kassam.