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The Old Man’s Rant...
By: Geg Hopkins
Bless buxomly politically correct good old US of A which still celebrates experience and allows the very old to keep their jobs until they drop. Veteran radio broadcasters are propped up daily and TV announcers might get a cosmetic surgery allowance, unlike the BBC who keep the ancient on for other reasons Jimmy; ask Rolf.

Fly any American airline and you’ll be forgiven for thinking Cayetana Fitz is pushing the trolley. Flying to Kuwait recently, there was a party atmosphere on board as the youngest member of the crew celebrated her 70th birthday. Passengers were taught CPR in case they needed to resuscitate the crew and all died happily ever after. Working relics maybe, but it makes us proud!

This column has previously covered the notion that some upstarts in today’s political arena across Britain and Europe wish to intangibly exterminate old people. It is not some organised secret plot to gas us all or anything like that (allegedly), but a desire to put us out to pasture in that great abstract concentration camp in the void by removing our vote and critique. The Village of the Damned is not a patch on the reality and the older among us are shocked at the controlled, adverse, fascist liberalism, which has subliminally besieged nations in the last few decades, with none now allowed to question or, dare say, mock it humorously or otherwise.
Let’s consider all things deemed ‘offensive’ nowadays – cultural stabs unacceptable, Irish jokes no longer kosher, gay jokes criminal. This generation of weirdo Fabians now curtailing society’s freedoms and gagging every utterance have not as yet condemned Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, claiming it offensive to infertile women or impotent men who have no kids, but it is coming.

Old folk are still good for a hit, but there really are only two mainstream avenues of humour, one is sexual or crude, the other considered racist. Grandma has no idea what you are talking about when you tell a dirty joke, if you even dare, while Granddad’s still trying to lip read. Young people have a burning question for senior citizens and that is, “Do you still do it?” Well, go ahead and ask any old couple if they have sexual relations and the most likely response would be; “I think we do, but we haven’t heard from them in years, they are probably dead;” like the gist of the question.

Feigned pseudo offence is now endemic for the smallest slight. Gladly, Bahrainis couldn’t give a rat’s nipple and tell some crackers. With culture and language entwined, oddly, some large nations appear to be near humourless. Nonetheless, appeasement will win the day and humour will be removed from society. With its rapidly changing façade, one suspects Canada will be the first without realising it, dismissing the notion that Germany has already acquired such sophistication.

These days the ancient among us are confused when pre-emptive apologies spew forth before someone tells a joke. Racist jibe is endemic across cultures but Fabians choose denial. Societies can still legally tell jokes about themselves, but many refute jibes from others because that is considered ‘racist’ - never mind the only difference being the post code. Some jibes are hilarious but old codgers over 70 don’t understand. Ask your granddad why he should be very nervous of a white man in prison; he’d just look dumfounded at you. “So why?” “Well you know for sure he did it!” Such sarcasm is still legal but not if the other way around. But then, it wouldn’t be funny would it?

More than half the world is not so liberal and as much as the BBC and its clones have pushed it down our throats so to speak, still older folk don’t refer to homosexuals as being ‘gay’; this hijacked word used in this context is double Dutch to them, so old Joe inadvertently and ‘innocently’ breaks the law by casually introducing his gay fried as being ‘batty’ or a ‘jobby jabber’. Likewise, with so many ‘fashionably outted’ lesbians in parliaments across Europe and Britain, and indeed now heading up big industry, sporting a Windsor knot, heaven forbid a Green Party member peddling her way to work and being referred to as a ‘dyke on a bike’. That would surely mean prison, albeit it being said in blissful ignorance.

Still, reminiscing the old, now banned, Alf Garnet days, is all one has really when age cripples, because nothing is ever going to get physically better and utopia is pure fantasy as with sexual prowess. A wife asking her husband to be romantic again and to give her those old love bites of ownership she once protested were unsightly — so hubby agrees and goes to the bathroom to get his teeth.