We have, by now, firmly established that if there is a shittier take than the shittiest take already out there, Brendan O’Neill will likely write it and the @spectator will publish it.
Seriously? Dark Day? Sinister? North Korea? Grow the fuck up, you toddler.
Seriously? Dark Day? Sinister? North Korea? Grow the fuck up, you toddler.
O’Neill’s pieces always remind me of the great old joke, about a man who gets a flat tire, at 3am, in the middle of nowhere and discovers he has no jack. He sees the light of a distant farmhouse and starts to walk towards it, but as he walks, he starts to work himself up: 2/5
“What if they don’t have a jack? Of course they’ll have one. But what if they don’t want to lend it to me? They don’t know me. I’ll offer them money to rent it. What if they refuse? I’ll give them my watch and wallet as collateral. But what if they still won’t see reason?” 3/5
So, he gets to the farmhouse, and by this point he’s so worked up, when he knocks and a kindly, bleary-eyed old lady opens the door and asks “Hello lad. You must be in trouble. How can I help?” he just screams “FUCK YOU, YOU OLD COW, AND FUCK YOUR JACK” and walks away. 4/5
Well, that’s basically the emotional level of every single O’Neill piece. It’s like he’s stewed over some perceived challenge to his privilege for days and by the time he sits down at the keyboard, he just types “FUCK YOU, YOU OLD COW, AND FUCK YOUR JACK” over and over again. 5/5
