“Caelgender – a gender which shares qualities with outer space or has the aesthetic of space, stars, nebulas etc.”
It’s an extreme example, I admit. But, amongst other challenges of mine to the innumerable logical transgressions of Brighton’s far-left Stasi, it is my vocal criticism of confected and nonsensical non-binary genders such as this which has led to a situation in which it is now fashionable for these people (that’s if they’re not trans-species) to make actual threats of violence against my person.
After a recent night out in Brighton, I was walking back to the house of a friend, having a private discussion about Breitbart. Unfortunately, we were not alone on the Lewes Road at that time, and my use of the word “faggot” – entirely quotational in context – was overheard and seized upon by one of these censorious luvvies who prowl the streets of Brighton at night.
She loudly accosted me, and, after my protestations (firstly that I had not directed the word at her or anyone; secondly that she should butt out of what was a private conversation) fell upon deaf ears, she launched into another shrill tirade against a newspaper article I had written recently, in which I had very gently poked fun at people who choose to identify as “non-binary”.
Screaming loudly in my face, she seemed to be demanding that I bow before her perception of gender, and recognise whatever non-binary gender she identifies as. My riposte was simple: she can identify as whatever she likes, and I can think whatever I like about it.
Furious with this obnoxious white male’s outrageous and unjustifiable argument that we should be afforded an equal degree of intellectual freedom, she carried on pursuing me, demanding to know why I insist on “hurting” people all the time in what I say and write, though I bit my tongue and resisted shouting backward that most valid and disarming of adages, involving facts, and how much they care about her feelings.
The whole incident had become utterly absurd by now, and I was glad it did not last much longer.
However though we had, mercifully, gone our separate ways, this was not to be the end of it. The next day, I was sent a screenshot of a Facebook status she – whom I will not name, due to a grace she has not afforded me – had posted about the incident, including a frankly libellous claim that I had shoved her.
In reality, she had grabbed me, and I had demanded she not touch me, in order that I minimise my risk of contracting whatever contagion robbed her of any degree of proportion or intellect. Beyond anything else, however, it was quite amusing, as it ended in the claim that she had a “meltdown”, and went back to a friend’s house, where the lights had been so, so bright she had subsequently suffered from a “shutdown”.
Less funny, and more worrying, were the comments underneath. Lurking in between ad hominem slurs and messages of sympathy, one individual had said she felt she must acquaint herself with my person, in order that she might set me on fire if she sees me, while another wrote the following:
“Ugh, he’s a nasty piece of shit. I’m not one for censorship but he needs his mouth sewing shut, preferably painfully and permanently”
Oh, ok then. So you are one for censorship. In fact, you’re in favour of censorship that involves not just invoking the threat of violence to coerce someone into silence: you want censorship that is pre-emptively violent.
This is typical of the way I have been established as a pariah by this coven of intellectual non-entities. Their confederacy of hypocritical fools are viscerally aware that their worldview teeters wearily on the stilts of idiocy, and this is why they are so righteous and forceful in the hate they spew out to silence me.
To them, the sole dynamic in our world is oppression. They are the victims, I am the perpetrator, and in their misguided quest to defend the honour of Saint Caroline of Brighton Pavilion, they have considered not for a single second that their attempts to prevent publication of my views offers a very good clue as to who the real oppressors are here.
These people are usually to be found desperately defending the boundaries of the “safe space” they have turned our university campus into – and this is perhaps not surprising; the laughably immature and impractical views they hold dear fail so miserably to stand up to even the slightest degree of scrutiny that they can ensure their survival only by insulating them in a controlled and compulsorily supportive environment.
Their politics are thus the equivalent of endangered species in zoos: capable of enduring solely in a space established to protect them against all the odds.
Rather like the pandas that now exist almost exclusively in these zoos, their politics are unviable, irrelevant, and unable to reproduce because it involves getting up before 2pm.
Contrary to our friend’s claims, I don’t set out to hurt anyone. I set out to dismantle and discredit the agendas of hypocritical champagne socialists, by shining a light on the absurdly entitled and privileged beliefs on which they are premised.
I see it as my duty to protect society from the dangers of these Brave, New warriors’ ideological agendas, with the disinfectant of exposure and ridicule. If a few caelgender special snowflakes who identify as the galaxy Andromeda get upset by that, I think I can probably live with it.