Signing the Magna CartaBy Mike Small

Watching the celebrations of the signing of the Magna Carta yesterday via the BBC, was watching a nation in deep denial, and a public broadcaster operating irony-free propaganda.

With the Red Arrows flying overhead spurting chem-trails of Red White and Blue (noted) Nicholas Witchell reported in his usual hushed tone, a perfect picture of Obsequious Journalism Perfected. Can you imagine his job? The damage to personal self-respect is unimaginable.

This was Parody England dressing up as Parody Britain and in full, unconstrained flight.

The Magna Carta, we were told, inspired Ghandi (wait, what? – wasn’t he fighting British rule?), was the beginning of ‘our rights’ and ‘our’ rule of law and ‘our politics’ we were told by David Starkey, he who, just recently was unable to disentangle an elected MP from a Nazi, and can’t distinguish a saltire from a swastika. But here he was to intone with gravitas and authority ‘our history’. Never mind, here comes the Royals – out in force – who seemed to have become under the BBC’s extraordinary editorial perspective, the story itself, thereby missing the ENTIRE POINT OF MAGNA CARTA WHICH WAS CONSTRAINING ROYAL POWER.

royal-baby-afpLevels of crashing irony are at this point reaching a dangerous threshold, but on comes David Cameron to explain to the slightly confused audience that he was going to renew the ideals of Magna Carta.

The prime Minister explained in his speech: “It falls to us in this generation to restore the reputation of those rights… It is our duty to safeguard the legacy, the idea, the momentous achievement of those barons.”

How would he achieve this great ideal? By abolishing the Human Rights Act.

If there was a sentient being in the audience or amongst the broadcast crew none was given air time on our national broadcaster.

Written in Latin, granted by a French-speaking King of England and borrowing from similar charters on the continent, the Magna Carta is not the quintessentially English document it’s been framed at, a concept likely to get Kippers and Euro sceptics spluttering into their warm beer. But whether it’s English or not it’s certainly not British.

Never mind, as the squatters near the Runnymeade memorial face eviction this is Parody England, memorializing eternally, no need for facts, or balance, or insight, just the endless stream of Windsor’s in hats, toadying journalists genuflecting for their masters and a surrounding cast of dumbfounded schoolchildren and churchy folk.

In 2015 this our news.

 

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