Worth reading - taken from Facebook
Credit from the James O’Brien Appreciation Society and a chap called Michael Michael
And strangely before you read it, it helps me understand who my step dad was just a wee bit better. He couldn’t see that the people he voted for, let him down. Anyhow, read on…..
The country’s changed, the street’s have changed, the slang has changed —
but no one ever sat him down and explained when that happened.
He says something at breakfast and the room goes quiet.
“You can’t say that, Dad.”
Not shouted.
Not angry.
Just… awkward. Like he’s said something from the wrong decade.
He doesn’t even know what word he used wrong.
Only knows it used to be fine.
Used to be normal.
Later, out with the missus — he jokes with the waitress, calls her “love”.
There’s that look.
The one that says please don’t.
The one that says people are listening.
He clocks it.
Swallows it.
Learns to say less.
At home the kids talk identity like it’s homework.
School emails read like HR policies.
Everything’s inclusive now, except him.
And he’s thinking:
I didn’t vote for this.
Didn’t ask for this.
Didn’t get a say.
Then a familiar voice pops up online.
Same haircut, same cadence, same fury —
a Tommy-by-any-other-name type.
And standing just behind him, polished and grinning, there’s Nigel Farage, pint in hand, telling him it’s all very simple really.
It’s immigration.
It’s boats.
It’s borders.
Not the politicians who rinsed the country for a decade.
Not the Tories who smashed it up, sold it off, and walked away.
Not the wages frozen in 2010.
Not the ladder pulled up while he was still climbing.
No — it’s the bloke with an accent who arrived with less than him.
And suddenly everything clicks.
He’s not falling behind —
he’s being overtaken.
He’s not angry —
he’s protecting something.
He’s not racist —
he’s just “asking questions”.
That’s the trick.
Turns decline into invasion.
Turns economic vandalism into culture war.
Turns “we’ve been robbed” into “they’ve been given”.
And best of all, the people who actually mashed the country up get to float away, while he’s left shouting at the wrong horizon.
No fixing the street.
No fixing the work.
No fixing anything.
Just point.
Repeat.
Rinse.
Because as long as he’s angry at them,
he never has to ask what was done to him —
or who really did it.
And strangely before you read it, it helps me understand who my step dad was just a wee bit better. He couldn’t see that the people he voted for, let him down. Anyhow, read on…..
The country’s changed, the street’s have changed, the slang has changed —
but no one ever sat him down and explained when that happened.
He says something at breakfast and the room goes quiet.
“You can’t say that, Dad.”
Not shouted.
Not angry.
Just… awkward. Like he’s said something from the wrong decade.
He doesn’t even know what word he used wrong.
Only knows it used to be fine.
Used to be normal.
Later, out with the missus — he jokes with the waitress, calls her “love”.
There’s that look.
The one that says please don’t.
The one that says people are listening.
He clocks it.
Swallows it.
Learns to say less.
At home the kids talk identity like it’s homework.
School emails read like HR policies.
Everything’s inclusive now, except him.
And he’s thinking:
I didn’t vote for this.
Didn’t ask for this.
Didn’t get a say.
Then a familiar voice pops up online.
Same haircut, same cadence, same fury —
a Tommy-by-any-other-name type.
And standing just behind him, polished and grinning, there’s Nigel Farage, pint in hand, telling him it’s all very simple really.
It’s immigration.
It’s boats.
It’s borders.
Not the politicians who rinsed the country for a decade.
Not the Tories who smashed it up, sold it off, and walked away.
Not the wages frozen in 2010.
Not the ladder pulled up while he was still climbing.
No — it’s the bloke with an accent who arrived with less than him.
And suddenly everything clicks.
He’s not falling behind —
he’s being overtaken.
He’s not angry —
he’s protecting something.
He’s not racist —
he’s just “asking questions”.
That’s the trick.
Turns decline into invasion.
Turns economic vandalism into culture war.
Turns “we’ve been robbed” into “they’ve been given”.
And best of all, the people who actually mashed the country up get to float away, while he’s left shouting at the wrong horizon.
No fixing the street.
No fixing the work.
No fixing anything.
Just point.
Repeat.
Rinse.
Because as long as he’s angry at them,
he never has to ask what was done to him —
or who really did it.
