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Children can sometimes be very cruel—but also very inventive.

When I was a schoolboy myself during the 1990s, there was a performatively “suicidal” girl who constantly used to make millimeter-deep scratches in her wrist with a compass, thereby supposedly aiming to bleed to death very, very slowly indeed, perhaps even over the course of several consecutive academic terms. For this she gained no sympathy, merely the immortal nickname of “The Girl With Two Slits.” Our teachers seemed unbothered when they found out; the English department even handed out a special Certificate of Achievement to the boy who had thought up the unkind moniker on grounds of sheer verbal dexterity.

In any case, the Batman-villain-like label didn’t do Two-Slits any harm. She merely progressed on to staging deranged public acts of “phantom pregnancy” on the school field by lying down on the grass and arching her belly up, screaming and groaning loudly, before pushing out various random schoolbag items like a pencil case from inside her knickers as a new “baby” (I often wondered who the father could have been?) every dinnertime instead, so it is hardly as if the constant verbal persecution pushed her into a state of severe psychological instability and distress or anything.

Black Sheep Matter
By the time I was attending university in the early 2000s, I began to scent early winds of invective-based change. Viewing a documentary about a supposed increase in anti-Muslim “racism” across the nation in the wake of 9/11, I was amused to find the most severe reaction the hyperventilating presenter could discover was that some unknown youths had defaced a library book by writing the words “Paki girls have smelly minges” on the inside front cover with a Biro.

Rather than the intended horror and white shame this was supposed to instill, this pathetic info in fact only elicited one main response in my late-teenage self: How do we know it wasn’t intended as a compliment? Some people might like that kind of thing.

As a schoolboy, my own teachers had openly laughed at our harsh nicknames for one another. As a university student, actual national television documentaries were now being made about random infants informing one another in writing that their bits smelled like herring. What precisely had gone so horribly wrong in the interim?

In 1997, Tony Blair had been unwisely summoned from Gehenna by the British public at the voting booth, after which his left-wing New Labour Cabinet had introduced a whole raft of new hate-crime laws so ineptly framed that, in 2005, even Blair himself faced potential police prosecution after shouting the words “Fucking Welsh!” at a TV set following an irritating minor electoral setback in the principality one day, on the inflated grounds of “inciting racial hatred.”

By 2024, so far had the “hate-crime” foot rot set in that one member of the public was being investigated for calling another Welshman a “sheep shagger,” as per the Celts’ standard derogatory national stereotype. Again, when I was at school, we used to joke that, whilst the Welsh word for “cow” was buwch, and for “pig” was mochyn, for “sheep” it was leisure centwr. It never crossed our minds we might one day potentially be prosecuted for the fact. And then the cwnt named Blwr arrived…

Intentionally or otherwise, the New Labour Thought Police had unleashed a judicial monster—which is why, in mid-November this year, it suddenly emerged that supposedly overworked and underfunded U.K. police forces had been investigating schoolchildren as young as 9 for incredible trivia like calling one classmate a “retard” or saying another girl smelled “like fish.” Thank God the thought-criminals didn’t say she stank “like Paki girls’ minges” instead; they would have been transported to Australia in chains without trial immediately.

Non-Crime and Punishment
How in the name of Almighty Zeus can it now suddenly be considered a “crime” for small trainee humans to call one another hurty names in the classroom? The short answer is “It isn’t”…but the Great British Police Force can still investigate you for such things nonetheless. U.K. law today “enjoys” the truly Orwellian concept of a Non-Crime Hate Incident (NCHI), a “crime” that isn’t a crime, but has to be investigated as if it is, even though it isn’t. Introduced by the National College of Policing in 2014 under an alleged “Conservative” government (i.e., a continuity Blairite one in sheep shagger’s clothing), around 13,200 literal non-offenses were recorded on adults’ and children’s permanent legal records between June 2023 and 2024, even though they represent nothing actually illegal.

As you can’t (yet) officially be arrested and imprisoned for an NCHI, having the fact that you haven’t actually committed a crime placed upon your criminal record may initially sound like the judicial equivalent of a symptomless coma, i.e., a matter of zero consequence. Yet this is not so. Future employers can access such records should you apply for a sensitive job requiring a Criminal Records Bureau (CRB) check, like becoming a police officer, say. If the HR department accesses your CRB file and finds that, in 2006, you once called a horse gay, for example (a real case of post-Blair alleged “homophobic abuse”), then they will probably consider you to be a hateful Nazi and refuse to employ you. Thus, we have the Kafkaesque situation of someone barred from becoming a police officer on the grounds that they haven’t actually committed any crimes.

Meanwhile, various applicants who have committed actual crimes, even outright sexual misdemeanors like displaying their naked erections to drive-through restaurant staff, have been accepted into the police force no questions asked, and then gone on to abuse their position of uniformed trust to abduct, rape, and murder women before burning their remains down into adiposal ash. Ah, but they never said anyone smelled of fish or accused someone of riding a homosexual horse, did they? At first glance, this may seem as if today’s benign British bobby considers “hate crimes,” whatever such quasi-fictions even are, as serious as actual real crimes. At second glance, you will find that this is quite true.

According to Ben-Julian Harrington, the Chief of Essex Police Force, acts of “hate speech” are every bit as serious as being stabbed or raped, something that rather suggests he himself has never suffered deep bodily penetration by either method—although I’m sure it could easily be arranged, if only he moves to the English county of Wiltshire. In 2022, Wiltshire Police sprang into immediate action after one child called another, much more diddy, child a “leprechaun” in the street. Meanwhile, only 0.7 percent of reported rape cases in Wiltshire resulted in a charge or summons, the lowest in the entire country. Things have now gotten so bad that whenever an actual leprechaun is raped in Wiltshire, he or she is left with no option but to investigate personally by offering up a pot of gold for any information on relevant suspects.

It Is So, ’Cos I Say So
Non-Crime Hate Incidents spawned ultimately from the 1993 killing of a black Londoner named Stephen Lawrence, the first known murder in all of British history. As detectives didn’t manage to catch his killers by the very stroke of cockcrow, the entirety of British society was deemed to be irredeemably institutionally racist and a special witch-hunt inquiry called the Macpherson Report introduced the utterly mental idea that a “hate crime” was whatever its supposed victims claimed it to be (unless they were white, obviously). When NCHIs were introduced in 2014, this same notion was incorporated into official police guidance thus:

The victim [not complainant, do note—the “guilt” of the “perpetrator” is already automatically presumed] does not have to justify or provide evidence of their belief [that someone has committed a “hate crime” against them], and police officers or staff should not directly challenge this perception. Evidence of the hostility is not required.

Evidence is “not required”? Allowing anyone, even crazy people, to self-diagnose their own hate crimes is every bit as open to abuse as allowing perverts to self-diagnose their own imaginary genders. This is why Britain now has cases like a Welsh lesbian couple (both human, no ewes involved) reporting to cops that a dead rat on their doorstep had been left there by the local SS Anti-Lesbo Brigade, even though the area was full of rats anyway, as it was in Wales—the sapphists said it looked “placed.” If so, maybe a cat was responsible? Maybe, but who is to say the cat itself was not a homophobe? Under NCHI laws, if you wanted to self-perceive that, the police could not contest it.

In Surrey, another NCHI was lodged by a couple who had been thrown out of a pub toilet for bumming each other—one participant was transgender, so their ejection was perceived to be “hate-related” rather than simply hygiene-related. Jokes, too, can result in a permanent black mark upon your record: One citizen received an NCHI for asking if a Chinese meal came “with bats” as an aperitif.

People are too easily offended these days. Earlier this month, a pint-size, Welsh-born lecturer in Disability Studies at Liverpool Hopeless University named Erin Pritchard announced success in her vital campaign to force a pub at the other end of the country to change its name from “The Midget,” this apparently being “freak show language” and “disablist hate speech.” This was despite the establishment being named not after any actual dwarf, but a brand of sports car that had once been manufactured locally, the MG Midget, as indicated by a large image of said vehicle on its sign, and the entire pub having a related novelty motorcar theme. Maybe Prof. Pritchard is blind as well as tiny?

“When I was in Holyhead, this woman came up to me and said her daughter found people like me hilarious, and would I dress up like Hello Kitty for her daughter,” Pritchard once complained. How old was the child in question? Three? Four? Give her an NCHI registered against her name for life, too!

That’s No Alabi
Contemporary U.K. hate-crime law really is a true charter for the professionally paranoid and the perpetually put-out. Also this month, a married London teacher, Eniola Alabi, brought a case against her employers for “anti-marriage discrimination” after they accidentally wrote her name as “Miss” not “Mrs.” on some envelopes. This was part of a concerted campaign against her, Alabi burbled, as she had received poor assessments of her teaching from bigoted managers who had supposedly been “controlling her computer remotely,” causing it to crash “in order to hinder her work.”

Placed before an employment tribunal, such claims were thrown out as untrue: Had Mrs. Alabi (better get that right or she’ll sue me) simply lodged an NCHI against her head teacher, it would have remained on the head’s criminal record forever, even though deliberately addressing someone as if she were unmarried obviously isn’t a crime, and her boss hadn’t even done so anyway. Why have we systematically trained ghouls like this up to become so oversensitive? Personally, I would gleefully frame any letter accidentally addressed to me as “Mr. Steven Fucker.” In fact, I regularly send myself such items, thereby making me the victim of my own invented hate crimes, just like Jussie Smollett.

And what’s so wrong with hate, anyway? Hate is a perfectly natural human emotion. I certainly hate all the cretinous politicians, lefty campaigners, and compliant policemen responsible for this current sad state of affairs. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re all a bunch of retarded, unmarried, sheep-shagging Welsh leprechauns with big gay horses, and whose two-slitted, disabled Pakistani midget genitals smell very strongly of fish. And it really shouldn’t be a crime for me to openly say so, no matter what the present U.K. government may think.

Fortunately for me, it technically isn’t.