In which the Have-a-go Gestapo are fair warned

Today a trip to the supermarket, and in the toilet roll aisle, a member of the Have-a-go Gestapo (a citizen illegally assuming the duties of police in respect of the Coronavirus Restrictions Regulations, or having the potential or inclination to do so) made an unnecessary comment directed at the author of this article: “can you choose a side of the aisle to stand on since you aren’t wearing a mask”.

Of course, there was plenty of space for this individual to navigate through, but being a Have-a-go Gestapo he evidently couldn’t turn down the opportunity to do some shaming and some bullying. He was saluted in an appropriate fashion: “Rule Britannia”. You see, reader, the Have-a-go Gestapo looked like the type who still thinks he should be able to sing “never will be slaves”, and most of these sorts of people actually understand that they are not fit for it, and are suffering from painful cognitive dissonance because they have convicted themselves in their own minds: they are not the people they like to think they are. And this is one of the reasons why there is so much rage at the moment regarding plans for the last night of the BBC Proms (an FBEL article is due on this particular psyop).

So, the Have-a-go Gestapo, not having encountered the retiring attitude he was perhaps expecting, looked for a backing down: “what did you say?” When the same was repeated in answer, the Have-a-go Gestapo paused (perhaps casting about for witty repartee) before resorting to an expletive. There was sarcastic acknowledgment so that all parties recognised that, by his eloquence alone, the Have-a-go Gestapo occupied the moral high ground.

Now, this Have-a-go Gestapo has a deep seated problem driving his behaviour, but he would also undoubtedly be like a lot of people in the UK by dint of being scum devoid of a moral compass. For most people in the UK who do, the motivation for complying with Coronavirus Restrictions Regulations is an impulse from their “going along to get along” essential nature. Fear comes into it as a factor, of course, and because they are all-round cowards even more than they might be ignoramuses (so that they don’t know the science or the legislation), they fear losing any advantage they might have by making a sacrifice and doing the right thing, as much and perhaps more than having actually contracting a disease or facing a penalty imposed by the authorities. After contriving to adapt to what they see as a necessity for survival, they become invested, emotionally and intellectually, in their outlook to the extent that they will feel threatened when it is challenged.

The braver of these people are going to be zealots, and it’s quite possible that after getting wind of Saturday’s protest – which lots of people will now have done since Piers Corbyn has been on the ITV daytime show hosted by the gobshite Piers Morgan – they are going to manifest in public places as Have-a-go Gestapo even more than they might have in defence of their creed. Indeed, it’s quite possible that the reason Corbyn was asked on to this show, to be ganged-up upon, and be denounced by a make-up coated celebrity doctor (yet pulling rank on Corbyn as one qualified), who is archetypal of the sympathy oozing but nevertheless useless and indeed dangerous British National Health Service, was to stir up in the audience the perception of an incredible threat. Corbyn may as well have been the man who pitched up on the Caesar Flickerman show in the Capitol of Panem to declare that the Hunger Games are evil. It would be training for an audience that is entirely conditioned to a fabulous and superficial amorality by TV: they would have their fundamental beliefs eviscerated – and it doesn’t have to actually happen, but appear to do so by the measure of the violent reaction of the trusted and regular personalities (which, by all accounts, “Dr Hilary” provided) – and then they can experience intense hatred and know the identity of the source of the feeling: the people who deny.

That being said, it really doesn’t matter, because in the end everything comes down to some very simple facts of life. You see, dear reader, the real problem of this Have-a-go Gestapo in the supermarket this morning – as it probably is with every one his ilk – is that he doesn’t know where real power comes from. Men who know what it’s like to be struck don’t approach bigger, younger males and mouth off. Indeed, the social necessity for politeness comes from a common preference for avoiding physical wounding that otherwise would occur at the slightest of provocations. Potentially, this paradigm would break down if there was a rival idea that one sort of person should just give way to another sort of person because of a Government diktat and all the apparent muscle behind it. Indeed, this is how tyranny functions.

Naturally, on the occasion of this morning, there could be no opportunity to enrich the Have-a-go Gestapo’s life experience, because long streaks of piss are not worth risking being sent out of a shop without what one came there for, let alone worth swinging for. However, it is entirely reasonable to issue warning, here, to citizenry who want to, and do collaborate with the authorities to infringe upon birth right freedoms, or to intimidate people into voluntarily surrendering the same, that in doing so they make themselves fair game in terms of any person’s right to self-defence who is looking to live within that liberty, and make themselves liable to be held to full account come the time of the restoration of the proper rule of law when punishment can be freely and uninhibitedly served.

Anyway, after the encounter, the Have-a-go Gestapo moved on, and was not espied again until the checkout tills, where he might well have heard a whistled chorus of the anthem previously named, and this might be why he produced his phone and took a picture, at a distance of course, of the musical, maskless shopper who wouldn’t retreat. Who knows what the Have-a-go Gestapo was planning to do with the image, but in the event that Sussex Police have received a report of a man committing the crime of whistling on a Tuesday (yes, the Young Ones Spaspecker on Jester’s Torture Hour sketch is parody no longer), now they know who it was, and they can go ahead and put a fine in the post, because Piers Corbyn isn’t the only one who isn’t frightened of a day in court.