By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist who believes today the mayoralty of Greater Lincolnshire, tomorrow the world
IT all came into focus with that vulgar orange, green and white balaclava. Everything wrong with our world has a single cause: pop music.
Kneecap themselves, three contemptible terrorist-wannabes who the late Martin McGuinness would have rightly put in a shallow grave on the outskirts of Ballybogy, are only its most recent manifestation.
These left-wing agitators who dress their message up in beguiling synth chords have always been with us: Manic Street Preachers, with their radical votes-for-Welshmen agenda. Billy Bragg, a paid agent of Yuri Andropov. Sinitta, Shining Path guerrilla.
Even the Spice Girls claimed to love Thatcher only to perform at the Brits dressed as five sexy stripping Thatchers, culminating in live lesbian sex acts on stage in a performance so shocking it was officially expunged from the public memory entirely.
But they were only the most obvious. Innocent-seeming acts like Take That promoted sodomy by placing five lithe men in close proximity. Bros popularised the craze of f**king your own doppelganger. t.A.T.u. made our kids not only Russian, but gay.
Go back as far as The Beatles, those lovable mop-tops, and you’ll find they came from the People’s Republic of Merseyside, that Derek Hatton was their manager and before them, there was no cunnilingus.
So, much as I love Radio 2 for demonstrating daily there’s an undercurrent of fascism in this country that can never be cowed, it’s over. Detain Dua Lipa. Lock up Lola Young. Arrest Adele. Let them warble to each other in the high-security wing.
Make listening a crime. Shoot Spotify subscribers on sight. Begin the systematic trial for historical crimes of anyone who was ever in, or ever masturbated to, Pan’s People.
Would you catch Nigel Farage listening to pop music? You would not. Therefore it’s unnecessary, wrong and needs to be illegal. Say ‘baby, yeah!’ to that.
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