I have never been invited back after my last Oxford Union debate. An African American (I don’t dare call her black) student who weighed at least 300 pounds had accused Uncle Sam of not doing enough for her after Katrina and that she “almost starved to death.” I committed the grievous offense of telling her she could do with a bit of a diet. Students booed me off the podium and some idiotic prof tried to lecture me following the debate, but I had met a pretty coed and was in a hurry to get away from fat women and professors who looked as if they had been conceived by chimps with a dose of the clap.
What do you think will happen to writers such as myself who like to call a spade a spade? The law as it stands in Britain says:
A person is guilty of an offence if, with intent to cause a person harassment, alarm or distress, he—
(a) uses threatening, abusive or insulting words or behaviour, or disorderly behaviour, or
(b) displays any writing, sign or other visible representation which is threatening, abusive or insulting,
thereby causing that or another person harassment, alarm or distress.
In other words, if I were to call the president of the United States a black c—-, it would be legal unless he was within earshot. Then I’d go to jail. But if I were to write that Al Sharpton is a fat black rabble-rouser and con man, I’d end up in the pokey quicker than he can say racist. It’s all very confusing, especially when everyday speech is suppressed by the Savonarolas of PC. Calling the queen a cow, as someone did the other day, is rude—very rude in fact, because she’s 86 years old and a grandmother.
But throwing the name-caller in a cell is even ruder. People keep writing and bragging about our freedoms—as compared of those lacking in towel-head land—but are these freedoms for real? I should be allowed to call Jesse Jackson a black c—- whenever I feel like it (not that I use such language), but if our British cousins have their say, pretty soon I will have to compliment some black female student who weighs 350 pounds on her svelte silhouette and hand her my wallet to complement her welfare check.
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