God Save the Kween
The woke set loves to pose as iconoclastic. Part Johnny Rotten, part Angela Davis. They hate the flag (not the Pride flag, though – they’ll be buried with that multicoloured monstrosity). They laugh in the face of old white men. They mock the monarchy, make fun of the nuclear family, and hound into retirement any stiff sixtysomething professor who holds an outrageous point of view, such as that people with dicks are blokes, not women. Biology, tradition, ‘truth’ – tear it all down. Get pissed, destroy!
But appearances, as we know, can be deceiving. For lurking beneath this showy screw-you to The Man (or The Woman, if that’s how the establishment identifies these days), there is a creepy culture of deference in woke circles. Consider their fawning over Meghan Markle. Sure, they chortle at the little people who bow to the queen and whose cupboards are stuffed with commemorative plates from Will and Kate’s wedding. Tacky much? And yet they will hunt you down and destroy your life if you so much as think about blaspheming against Meghan. The queen is dead, long live the kween!
Last week there was a perfect collision of events that positively shattered the rebellious pretensions of the woke clique. First, some privileged saps at Magdalen College,
Article from LewRockwell