We need to talk about Brendan

Viciousbutfair, Going Postal

In many ways Brendan was the perfect victim, there he was, this lugubrious charity worker, this younger, cooler Will Self alike, a man whose life was dedicated to the poor and the vulnerable.
There is a reason for that but one thing at a time.

His precious wife is senselessly slaughtered by a fascist extremist, a far right killer, a man who only reads Mein Kampf for typos now, as he is so familiar with the text of it.
So we have the perfect victim, he is left with two young children, he lives on a boat, it is hinted, and his wife did selfless good works, apart from her death, obviously, what is there not to like?

We need a foundation they cried, he is perfect we have more in common, more than that which divides us, it’s brilliant, apart from her death, obviously, what is there not to like?

All the red and white flowers in the world can not diminish his grief, but there are limited companies that must be set up, funds to be raised, messages to be put across to both the faithful and the terminally gullible.

All is well for a while but then there are pejorative claims about the new Messiah, the man who reluctantly now wears her sacred cloak, the man who embraced his late partner’s ethos, her kind spirit, her selfless actions. Whilst pursuing charitable endeavours himself, and whilst his dear wife was still alive, he carelessly brushed against some female co-workers, probably in a tight corridor space, once or twice. Not wishing his motives to be misunderstood he resigned for the greater good. He did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing.

His strategy worked, like a man who breathes through a reed and hides underwater when pursued by the murdering hordes, he disappeared from view. Once the war was over he could re-emerge and, of course, he did.
There is work to be done, there is grief to be shared, there are limited companies to be formed, More In Common, The Jo Cox Foundation, Get Together Limited and my personal favourite, the Jo Cox Foundation Trading Limited.

Jo Cox Foundation Trading Limited or JCFTL as I shall refer to it, I believe sums up the real spirit of this Del boy enterprise. I think of Wembley Market in the early hours of Sunday morning, Brendan and his old mucker Tim Dixon (fellow director and script writer to 2 Oz Prime Ministers, big hitter folks) are setting out their little stall.

Out of the back of their old, battered Transit they get their JCFTL banner to hang over the stall, then they bring out the stock.
There are mugs, there are T shirts in 3 different sizes, there are coasters and even kitchen aprons. All bear the words ‘More in Common’ in a captivating Beyond Wonderland font, really tasteful but also chic.

There is a ‘piece de resistance’ however, their showpiece. In pride of place, on display in a little glass case there is a necklace. It is 9ct gold with a slim chain and it bears the symbol of a simple, home made gun. It is what took her away but nevertheless it is also what unites us.
Like the cross was to the Christians, this symbol is just as meaningful to the Coxians and whilst classy it is also still affordable. It will look great around your neck at any Islington dinner party and it’s a real conversation starter.

“Is that a Jo Cox necklace you’re wearing? Wow, cool.”
“It says on the back, ‘she gave so that others may live’.”
“Wow, she was so brave.”
OK, so they nicked that quote from Hancock’s Blood Donor but it’s still pretty cool, right?

All is well for the longest while, he tweets, he talks, he cajoles and he emerges from the cloak he so reluctantly wore, from his original chrysalis form emerges the most wonderful butterfly you ever saw and even the nice people in the media hang on to his every word.
JCFTL is doing pretty well too, they now have a second stall at the market and are able to employ a couple of assistants. Nice, young girls he personally vets for the job.

Things were good but then there was that Sunday, that one awful Sunday and everything changed. It was a sleepover Sunday for the nanny and as space on that little boat was tight she had to share a room with Brendan, they were both still sleepy when the little boy walked into their cabin.
“Daddy, what does a thumb in the mouth mean?” the little chap asked, a copy of the Mail on Sunday in his hand.

Well, after that the game was up, Brendan found that little reed pipe that he used to breathe underwater and off he went again, I’m sure he will be back soon, after all it’s the only thing he knows how to do. He has no other skill, there is nothing left, unlike Profumo he can hardly go and do charity work now, can he?

But Brendan’s new friends had a problem too, they had a little chat with him and they agreed it would be best if he left More in Common although they let him keep the little JCFTL market stall which should keep him busy on Sunday mornings at least, a few pennies never come amiss either.

He had been the perfect centre piece, the grieving widower, the focal point of his late partner’s raison d’etre. Sadly once it was clear that genetically he was a cross between a bonobo monkey and an octopus, the boy was toast, persona non grata, he was an ex-cause.
They had to get rid, no question.

You see, the controlling interests in More in Common are small, innocuous bodies like Purpose Europe (director also Tim Dixon), they in turn receive grants from the Rockefeller Foundation through Purpose Global, a Delaware registered tax free company, all perfectly innocent altruistic non tax paying bodies, let me be clear about that.

More in Common expect to have around 20 employees during the course of this year, according to their website. Being based in London I would guess their salaries and running costs would exceed around £1 million a year at the very least.
Now even if Brendan was still available for financial input I think you would agree that is a shed load of tee shirts and coasters to shift in order to finance such a charitable enterprise.

Therefore they and their employees are merely sponsored by a foundation, a pretty anonymous foundation too so what are their aims?
The Purpose Global website espouses wonderful ideals cloaked in rather wooly doublespeak, like a Chinese meal, half an hour later you want another wonderful ideal.
To change the perception of debate, to create a global collaborative for systems change, resilience and innovations for outsize impact. Along with some feeding the third world babble it all reads like something Orwell would have considered a good days work before heading off for a couple of jars down the Slaughtered Lamb.

Let me declare myself a realist, a realist but not a cynic, I’ve been here a long time and I smell bovine faeces before it hits the ground, even if I’m upwind of it. Your collaboration and your resilience and your innovation might impress Wendy and Michael Darling but I recognise the colour of fudge, it’s shitty brown.

Let me fast rewind to my opening paragraph, I said Brendan was a man whose life was dedicated to the poor and the vulnerable. There is a reason for that. A reason also for the many that hide behind the shield of charity.
Do you remember how Saddam and Gaddafi, amongst many others always had the same modus operandi?
To camouflage devious shit you hid it in hospitals, schools, old people’s homes, if you were attacked you could claim your enemy attacked the poor and the vulnerable.

That is exactly what most of these foundations, most of these charities do. It gives them the veneer of virtue and shrouds the enemy in shadow, in darkness, they become the bogey man, the bad guy.
That is almost how all the far left fascism now works, charity, political progressives and the frothing hyena media, they find a vulnerable cause, an idea, then hide behind it whilst splattering the opposition with words, with labels but of course not ideas because they don’t have them, they only have words.
They will not enter debate or discussion because they will lose every time so they hide behind words, words are all they have to steal your heart away.

So I understand what charitable foundations do, I understand how they work and I’m sure you do too. I understand what I need to do now, I have to wake the sleeping and the stupid and I will spend the rest of my life doing that. It’s my duty, it’s my responsibility.

As for Brendan, well he is lost, I have no sympathy, I rejoice in his vacuous, pointless existence, I celebrate his failure, I have not a shred of rapport for him. Some small piece of me should still show empathy for his lost soul because I do understand what that is like but this is a battle, a war and I take no prisoners.

© Viciousbutfair 2018