Days like this, as I have been moved to observe on occasions over the years, it’s difficult to know where to start.
Plan A was to write about the boy in Scotland who has been allowed to identify as a wolf.
The secondary school pupil allegedly suffers from ‘species dysphoria’ and presumably spends double chemistry lessons howling at the moon.
Don’t laugh, it worked for me. Though in my case it was more bum-fluff than the full Lon Chaney Jr. They were just glad to see the back of me before I burned down the lab experimenting with potassium permanganate while trying to recreate the opening titles from Bonanza.
The Mail knows the name of the Scottish education authority involved but has decided not to disclose it to protect the identity of the child.
Wile E. Coyote? Wolfman Jack?
Just a guess.
As for the local council, it could be any of them. The Scottish government has been promoting a policy of ‘re-wilding’ the countryside which favoured reintroducing wolves to the Highlands.
Plan A was to write about the boy in Scotland who has been allowed to identify as a wolf
Still, it’s not all bad news. It would certainly curtail the number of Guardian-reading, right-to-roam ramblers in their hideous hi-viz cagoules clogging up God’s Own.
Apparently, this crazy, mixed-up kid belongs to a group called the ‘Furries’ – as opposed to The Fureys, a well-known Irish folk ensemble and not to be confused with Tommy Fury and Molly-Mae Wossname, whoever they are.
Under the progressive leadership of Wee Burney’s SNP, Scottish schoolchildren have been allowed to identify as foxes, dragons, snakes, birds, sharks and dinosaurs.
Jurassic Park!
This is all prefectly legit because of a Scottish government guidance called ‘Girfec’ – a ‘well-being wheel’ to support children who think they are animals.
You couldn’t, etc. But it may explain why Gorgeous George Galloway turned up on Big Brother pretending to be a cat. Maybe there was a pilot scheme in Dundee in the Sixties. They should have sent him to Speyside and had him speyed.
Who knows? Aberdeenshire council has been obliged to deny reports that a pupil in the Granite City has been provided with a litter tray after identifying as a cat and was last seen living in a dustbin with a sidekick called Benny The Ball.
He’s the Boss, He’s a VIP, He’s the championship, He’s the most tip top. Top Cat!
OK, TC…
We’ll leave that one to Officer McDibble. But just when you thought it couldn’t get more bonkers, along came the gender-fluid dachshund in a dress, which has just won a lesbian social worker £63,000 in compensation.
There’s another one of those sentences I though I’d never read, let alone write.
But just when you thought it couldn’t get more bonkers, along came the gender-fluid dachshund in a dress
Trust me, I’m not making this up. Honest. Elizabeth Pitt has been awarded £55,000 plus £8,000 costs after being disciplined for expressing ‘transphobic’ views during a Zoom call for an LGBTQWERTY+ group convened for staff at Cambridgeshire County Council.
(I’m sorry, I’ll just write that again.)
Elizabeth Pitt has been awarded £55,000 plus £8,000 costs after being disciplined for expressing ‘transphobic’ views during a Zoom call for an LBGTQWERTY+ group for staff at Cambridgeshire County Council.
Nope, me neither. Or, why?
Apparently, she objected to one participant dressing up his dachshund in a frock and claiming it was gender-fluid, which sounds like something you buy 1001 (cleans a big, big carpet for less than half a crown!) to get rid of.
Don’t mess with his tutu.
Ms Pitt and a lesbian colleague had an attack of the screaming ab-dabs, sparking claims that their objections to the gender-fluid dog were ‘non-inclusive and transphobic’. One person who saw the Zoom images was reported to be ‘shaking in disbelief’ and was later subjected to ‘anxiety dreams’.
Other Zoomers complained to the council that Ms Pitt had adopted a ‘really aggressive tone’ and that found it ‘quite inappropriate’ that she had been commenting on ‘transwomen participating in women’s sports and sharing women’s spaces’. Ms Pitt was subsequently told that her comments had a ‘detrimental impact on the mental health and well-being of the complainants’.
She was then sent a written management instruction, in which she was told to act in a way which ‘ensured her personal views and beliefs did not manifest themselves in comments or actions in the workplace that might discriminate against others on grounds of a protected characteristic’.
Bear with me. Yep, I know. I’m losing the will to live here, too. But all will be revealed.
Long story short, Pitt the Grumbler went to an industrial tribunal claiming ‘discrimination’, having raised over £50,000 crowdfunding. And after the council admitted ‘liability’ for ‘harassment’ the tribunal bunged her the thick end of 63 grand for hurt feelings.
A jubilant Ms Pitt said after the hearing: ‘Let’s hope that other employers will start to learn that it’s a bad idea to try to stop lesbians asserting their boundaries and silence staff who know that sex is real, and sometimes matters.’
A victory for ‘equality’ no doubt. Reported by most of the media as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
But, stop me if I sound ‘transphobic’ or ‘sapphobic’ or whatever the latest fashionable smear happens to be this week.
Has nobody got any time for a ratepayer, as Diana Dors screeched at the station sergeant in The Sweeney?
For the record, I couldn’t care less what people do under their duvets, or in the dive bars of Soho, or anywhere else for that matter. Provided I don’t have to participate, pay for it, watch, and it doesn’t involve children or farm animals, knock yourself out. If sleeping with the Seven Dwarves is your idea of a night out, on you go.
If a kid wants to pretend he’s Baloo from The Jungle Book, that’s fine by me, as long as he’s not getting his NHS coconuts on prescription.
Where I draw the line is when this guff is endorsed by the State, as if it’s a proper way to behave.
Look, if the MGBGT+ crowd want to mingle, fantastic. But they can hire a room above a boozer after work, not expect taxpayers to subsidise a Zoom-erama during working hours. Same goes for blokes who want to dress up their dachshunds as Dame Margot Fonteyn.
And when they fall out, it shouldn’t be down to the rest of us to foot the bill for a trebles-all-round compensation payout.
Same goes for parents who have no right to expect society to indulge their offspring’s deranged belief that they are some kind of domestic pet, or wolf come to that. Get ’em a kennel for Christmas, just don’t sue the local education authority.
As for Mizz Pitt and her offended lesbian sisters at Cambs County Council, get a life. At work, you’re hired to do a job on behalf of the paying public, not play grievance bingo on Zoom. Start by filling in a few potholes.
And as for the anonymous wolverine in Aberdeenshire, or wherever. Don’t worry, son, you’ll grow out of it.
I used to be a werewolf, but I’m all right NOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!