What Comrade Corbyn is not telling us

soviet queues


Comrade Corbyn is offering a simplistic vision for the infantilized. Nigel Farage was offering a tough vision where one would have to actually work to get anything.

The Nigel Farage phenomenon has had its first rush and garnered 3.8 million votes. Now, as if this is a directed pantomime, it’s the Jeremy Corbyn show.

Two images of two shops I went into in the mid-90s for your consideration.

One was in post-Soviet Russia and it was a general store. Everything people needed, according to those above, was found in these GUMs and TSUMs. On entering, one joined a queue and the skill was in knowing which one, as it was not possible to approach the counter and see the products.

They arranged one example of each of the products in a glass case. There was little choice – this was the washer for the tap, this was the scythe, this was the nappy or diaper. Behind the counter stood four or five wooden women, dour-faced, bored, in uniform. I looked around and there was a booth over on the street side which handled the money.

Average time was perhaps half an hour in the queue which, I was reliably informed, was a vast improvement on Soviet days. Finally, our turn came and one had to be quick because the people behind would jostle and harangue which might have accounted for the state worker woman in the uniform behind the counter and her attitude.

“Next!” she bellowed.

“Ah yes …”

“Bistro, bistro …” [Hurry, hurry].

It was some piping we needed and my companion did the asking. The woman then left her place and went out the back to rummage, presumably, perhaps to have a cuppa.

She eventually returned. “Nyet – tor.” [We don’t have it. Literally – not that.]

My companion knew this tactic of old. The wooden woman’s idea was that now we’d get the hell out of the way and let someone else have a turn. Zero concept of us having survived the queue for so long that we wanted our product. Zero concern.

I’ve seen that in Britain too – being told that they have to cater for everyone, not just me. Yes but I am part of everyone so please supply what I’ve asked and don’t use the teeming masses as an excuse not to serve each constituent part of said masses.

We did not get that item but did get three or four other things and later, my companion felt it was a victory of sorts. Harrowing tales of dealing with the passport office were told.

Before leaving this shop, let me mention the payment bit. The woman behind the counter issued a slip of paper with a printed number of the item[s]. We then had to leave the queue and join that long snake of a queue to pay.

Then we rejoined the first queue with the receipt to give to the wooden woman. She would then go out back and rummage again. Eventually, she’d come back with the item and shove it at us or slap it on the counter.  Great sales technique. That was our lot.

I looked around at the sea of faces – frustrated, bored, resigned – this was not living, it seemed to me.

Jeremy Corbyn wants to renationalize the railways. Simplistic and on the surface – looking at the dislocation between Network Rail and the other providers, the greed of skyrocketing fares, the rip-offs, the poor service, the massive bureaucracy, despite privatization, people might be forgiven for going with a return to the bad old days of nationalized railways.

And here’s the thing – unless you’ve personally been through things like that, like rationing, like the Blitz, you can’t really know.

One side of politics actually reads about those things and realizes how bad they were. On paper.

The other side lives in this “now” cocoon, the instant gratification on the never-never and thinks – my goodness, Jeremy speaks so much sense and he’s such a nice man, such a nice beard.

Second shop. It wasn’t a shop but a Post Office in Frankfurt. The instant I walked in, I groaned. I’d come to Frankfurt from Russia with the same companion. There was a huge queue in a snake again, this time with those pillar and webbing dividers.

About halfway along the snake, I looked around at the faces and they were in a hurry, containing their impatience but that was about it. They were, for the most part, well dressed and well groomed. There was no time because suddenly we were at the counter.

A smiling face almost gave me a heart attack. “May I help you?”

Wasn’t this Germany, home of the stormtrooper? Vee haf ways off keeping you in line?

The lady dealt with my quite complicated set of requests, someone else went out the back and returned with the boxes, the whole thing was over within about six minutes – that was with a room full of people.

And therein lies the difference.

My Russian mates and matesses hear about our situation over here, follow my links and read for themselves. They are dumbfounded. “But why would your people “want” to become the Soviet Union? Do they not know what it is really like?”

Well no, they don’t. This is the process of short-termism, living in the present, no knowledge of the past, means new generations for whom the lessons learnt by the older generations are as nothing. Grandparents’ tales from a storybook.

And the Corbynite movement is the same errors being made all over again. The PTB grin and lick their lips at the “sheeple”.

But one must never use that word. Were one to call the Eloi “sheeple”, they’d just gaze at you and then look away. You’d be marginalized. Nasty man, probably a racist homophobe.

And that’s where we are.  One only really understands what the loss of freedoms means long after they’ve been removed by salami tactics.

This post is not for my site, only for OoL, the Liberty Bell. Have a lovely weekend.


5 comments for “What Comrade Corbyn is not telling us

  1. August 8, 2015 at 6:53 am

    How dare you criticise all those ladies serving behind the counter. Misogynist !! They are all trying desperately to break the ‘glass ceiling'(don’t even mention the repair shop assistants). Smash the Patriarchy. Its bigger than global warming.

    (jus’ jokin’)

  2. Hereward unbowed.
    August 8, 2015 at 9:37 am

    It’s all a helluva of a mess James.

    I hear, what you are saying but comparatively [if we strip away consumerism] are we so much better off than were the Soviets? At least their education system in the three R’s was up to scratch, you can’t say the same for Britain today. We are being marched, bounced down a different route but the end goal will be very similar in ‘feel’.

    Q. When is a free market not a “free market”?
    A. when it’s called the EU.

    Didn’t you know, that, Socialistas-aka-communists are always correct on all that they espouse, and with the Corbynistas one more tiny push will be all it needs.

    That the state knows best and you will like it Tovaritch.

    Here muse and reference the NHS and councils running the country. Moreover, and a distant lot of unaccountable Kommissars guiding, directing the show via your local chamber which in our case is, Westminster.

    Here in Britain, we are nearly there and our current lot in Westminster call it “westernized corporatism-statism” oops er “democracy”.

    Free market? Where the producers [global conglomerates] dictate to the market and thus the free market becomes a myth; because of the inertia of red tape, bureaucrats, tariffs and trade barriers. The [German-Franco axis] prevents laissez faire economics, ie they jump and crush the little guy/trader – it’s the collective see sonny?

    The illusion of “free markets” that’s what cartels play it is a game, yes we have gizmos and gewgaws galore [GET YOUR latest Iphone Sir/Madame!]
    and they (ISP providers, mobile companies)then have you by the short and curlies (only 24 month contract) but never can it be named “free trade”.

    Cue more “free choice” – The EU, with it, in it is just one more step to totalitarianism and Jeremy knows how and leads the way.

    What we really need, is the death of all big government and out of the way. Only then, can we install the free market. Alas, open and free, in our present plight, true we have elections but Westminster provides politically speaking no choice. Thus small state government that’s not possible is it? Rules is rules and reams and reams of it at that and – rules must be obeyed Comrade.

    End game, the collective is all and Irish republicans and middle east terrorists can join in but the ordinary citizen will be frozen out, marginalized and then removed from the map, via the gansterism of Multiculturalistas.

    How it will be….. of Federal….um a Caliphate of EUrabia – which is the ultimate no choice society, this way towards Britain goes, marching towards the evil of black flag totalitarianism – Corbyn their muppet conduit.

  3. August 8, 2015 at 1:12 pm

    James makes a valid point, especially from the viewpoint of those who were actually unfortunate enough to only view the proceeds of Socialism and Communism, as delivered to those who were unfortunate enough to reside behind that Curtain which was so correctly-termed ‘Iron’ by Churchill. It is only those of us whose span has been long enough to actually see what was perpetrated upon a long-suffering population under the iron grip of the Socialist State are indeed qualified to comment upon those visible injustices.

    I would like to tell you about a small occurrence in Constanta, during my last trip there in 1963, to demonstrate what it was actually like living in a Socialist paradise! The whole port area was cordoned off, with barbed wire everywhere, uniformed gun-carrying guards everywhere, and access was strictly controlled. The harbour itself was protected by a harbour wall, upon which fishermen used to sit or stand for hours, hoping to increase their meagre rations by the free bounty of the sea.

    Access and egress was controlled by heavily-guarded gates, through which the fishermen had to pass when leaving the dockside. The rule was that every fisherman was allowed three fish free through, but any caught over that number had to be offered to the gate guards. If they didn’t want the excess, or they had already confiscated enough, the fishermen were allowed through with their extra fish, but; I stress, the fish had to be declared! We, as filthy capitalists, were allowed into the city, but only after being issued with special passes which were suspiciously scrutinised by the gate guards, and as you can imagine, in a labour-intensive place like a port, there were massive queues come knocking-off time!

    We headed out into town round about six in the evening, but there was still a substantial queue in the locals’ queue, which we were able to by-pass, being filthy-rich capitalists, you understand; so it was from an an almost empty gate lane that we saw the true face of Communism in action!

    A fisherman had caught seven fish, and had shown the required three, and had declared a further two, but had slung the other two fish from twine down his back, under his coat. Because of the long queues, the slime and blood from the fish had started to leak, and had run down his back onto his trousers. He had in fact passed through the gate, and has started walking up the rise towards the main road, when the ‘spotter’, a guard who, presumably posted to watch for just this occasion, called out to his machine-gun toting buddies, three of whom raced out and surrounded the ‘criminal’. They pulled his coat off, took the fish and threw them on the ground; then knocked the fisherman down and commenced kicking him until he lay silent, broken and bloody on the pavement! This in full view of maybe five hundred men standing silently in the queues!

    As the string of workers was passed through the gates, they one by one passed the broken body by, as though he had been infected with some dread contagious disease, never stopping, never looking! In the end, after maybe fifteen had walked by, we went forward, lifted him onto our arms and carried him the hundred yards to a café. Here we paid the owner to phone for an ambulance, which arrived about twenty minutes later, and the silent but still breathing body of a man who had committed the heinous crime of trying to feed his family was slid into the rear of the vehicle, which slowly rolled away!

    We never were able to find out what happened, whether the man lived or died, the people who spoke English in the Port clammed up like stones when we attempted to find out his fate!

    • August 8, 2015 at 3:24 pm

      That’s exactly the mentality. Over fish, FFS. Wasn’t even a finite resource. And that’s where we’re headed, even faster if Comrade Corbyn gets anywhere.

  4. Voice of Reason
    August 8, 2015 at 9:21 pm

    My sympathies were always with the Morlocks, as they did the work.

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