John the Turncoat, compare, Today, on BBC Radio 4, “the UK’s leading news/current affairs show”.
Bless him, he seems a mild fellow, gently humorous, able to see the ironies and contrasts in life. Obviously grew up in the era when seeking knowledge and information and spreading it to the people was seen as a virtuous and glorious pursuit – surely to be rewarded in heaven. Well the weekly visit to chapel would have emphasised that benefit, for sure.
As a reporter he could do this – ferreting out scandals and misdemeanours for his local rag and climbing the journalistic ladder to BBC reportage the same rules held true. He found he could lambast live these offenders and make them squirm in front of the whole nation.
So his role now as a latter day Joseph Goebbels must be quite galling to him. He’s there as senior citizen of news and current affairs and as a figure of refinement and constancy. He has worked his way through the Andrew Gilligan and the Saville disturbances, and steadied the ship. But his insight has not just vanished – it’s been banished. His questions are not just scripted – they’re censored and the end result is like listening to a lobotomised version of his former self. I’m not saying, of course, that that’s not what happened – “Could you come with us John, there’s a nice consultant we’d like you to see about your condition”, but I like to think that the old guy is still there, somewhere, behind this current projection.
But his present utterances are so often simply spouting, again and again, the propaganda of the centralist self perpetuating dogmatists. Corporatist leaders, bankers and war-mongerers like the inane and insane, muppet and puppet WilliamHague. These days sadly so often just voicing the opinions of his boss, Rupert Murdoch, master string puller that he is. Whatdoyoumean “He does not work for the BBC” – they work for him – have you not noticed yet?
So today, as I washed last night’s crockery in the kitchen and brewed my aromatic Columbian Celestial Coffee, hand picked in the moonlight by a modern Inca workers’ collective union and lovingly matured, dried and roasted by all knowing craftsfolk, I had to listen to John the Turncoat receive information from a smooth talking Teesider, telling us how he’d found reason to manage injection of MMR toxic cocktails into several thousand local teenagers because around 300 cases of “confirmed measles” had occurred in his patch.
Did John mention vaccine damage? Did John worry aloud about allergies, asthma, subaccute schlerotising paraencephalitic (SSPE)? Did he mention autism? Did he question whether there is ever any measured benefit from the process? Did John suggest that the Swansea “epidemic” of measles had been a charade staged for the media to needlessly worry about mild childhood illnesses and rush their loved ones to the local clinics? Did John question the unexplained deaths of a 25 and a 17 year old, both in Swansea,quite possibly directly after their receiving the MMR jab resultant from that managed panic?
Of course not. “Pretty Polly. Pretty Polly.”