My jaw quite literally hit the floor when I news of the car written about here. I’ve always been a fan of new tech, but can’t help thinking things are now getting silly. “A new version of Tesla’s Roadster electric sports car, equipped with thrusters which apparently allow it to hover and turn in mid-air, has been unveiled in Texas.” The sight of the car quite literally jumping from the ground was enough to kick-start my day. It’s just a demonstration model of course, and probably won’t be road legal, although I can’t help wondering whether they plan to make a powerchair version.

Quite some time ago, I began to think about what I called the Paradox of Liberalism: the contradiction at the core of liberal/progressive philosophy which says one must be open to and tolerant of all views and perspectives, apart from the perspectives which say you cannot tolerate any views or lifestyles apart from your own. Of course, it still seems to me that this is still a valid problem for those who call ourselves liberals – how can one tolerate intolerance, or accept bigotry as a valid point of view like any other? The thing is, yesterday I came across something which is far more paradoxical, hypocritical, and even insidious for those currently in the opposite camp.

I was out and about as usual, trundling around the estates near Plumstead. It’s a fairly affluent area which I hadn’t really explored. Many of the roads were named after great writers like Chaucer and Keats. All of a sudden I came across something which really got me going: a well maintained, semi-detached house flying a Reform flag in the front garden. That in itself would make me want to vomit, but what I found truly objectionable was the fact that there were also several Help For Heroes banners and silhouettes in the garden too. It was quite clear that this was the home of someone who thought of themself as a patriot, but had confused, like so many other fools are currently doing, extreme right wing politics for patriotism.

What I find provocative is the fact that the ‘heroes’ and veterans who this person was obviously demanding we support all either died or risked their lives resisting the very political forces whoever was flying this flag also advocated. The Second World War was fought against people who espoused the very grotesque nationalist notions Reform now promote. Indeed, the EU was created specifically to ensure Europe never lapses into such brutality again. By flying this flag, this person was insulting every one of the heroes they claimed to support; that they had the gall to obviously be so proud and vocal about it made it even worse. It was a contradiction and juxtaposition which I frankly found truly vile when I came across it on my trundle yesterday; yet it is clear evidence of the sickening delusion at the heart of current right wing, reactionary politics. Liberalism may have it’s paradoxes, but they are nothing compared to such perverse self-deception: you can’t claim to support veterans while advocating the very politics they were fighting to resist.

I’m extremely glad to hear that our politicians are getting real about Brexit. In the news yesterday evening, we heard that ‘Andy Burnham has said it is “inconceivable” to think that Russia did not try to interfere in the 2016 EU referendum’, adding that it was clear that there had been interference from Moscow. Of course, that is more or less a statement of the blindingly obvious: anyone who knows anything about the crime of 2016 knows that it was all a ploy by Vladimir Putin to weaken the European Union. What has really wound me up last night, however, is the fact that Nigel Farage has the barefaced audacity to call Burnham a liar in response. This is a man who, backed by his Russian handlers, knowingly mislead the country into voting to leave our nearest, biggest market. The consequences of such idiocy are now becoming clearer by the day, yet p’tahks like Farage still have the nerve to defend what they did. I’m just glad we finally have a PM who is unafraid to get real about Brexit, so the crime of 2016 might just be undone before it’s too late.

This will probably be a bit of a lament (or moan) but I’ve been reflecting quite a bit recently on the fact that, since moving to Eltham six years ago, for some reason I don’t seem to have made many friends. When I was living back in Charlton there were various people who I used to see and interact with quite regularly, such as at the park, who I counted as mates. These says, though, I have no real regular acquaintances. Of course, I count my three personal assistants, John, Dom and Artur, as firm friends – if not almost brothers – but apart from them and the guys I keep in touch with online, I have no real frequent mates. I daresay the pandemic made quite an impact on this situation, and things have never really recovered. Well, there’s obviously only one thing for it: time to make an effort to restore my friend count.

I just came across this quite long but interesting PBS documentary on the German-American Bund, a fascist movement in America in the 1930s. Of course, it rose in large part out of the aftermath of the First World War, Jim Crow Laws, the great depression and so on, and the historians speaking in the film go to some length to emphasise that it was very much a minority movement. They also stress how much opposition there was to it. Yet to be honest, in the light of what is currently happening in the US, I can’t help thinking that this dark chapter of American history is suddenly becoming very salient, and that the Bund could well have been more popular than these historians will be comfortable with. In the film we see pictures of huge parades with people waving swastikas alongside American flags, and rallies in Maddison Square Garden. As much as mainstream liberal society may want to deny it, there always seems to have been a dark, racist or xenophobic undercurrent in American culture, stretching back to their civil war and beyond, which is sadly currently enjoying a resurgence.

Like most people I suppose, I grew up with American culture: watching American films, cartoons and TV programmes. I suppose I have always had an affinity with our friends across the Atlantic. However, I take no pleasure whatsoever in saying that that respect has now been torn to shreds, and I frankly view America and Americans as utter embarrassments to humanity. I know how reactionary that might sound, but this news this morning has put the country far, far beyond the pale. Capital punishment is barbaric enough, and the news of the failed execution of Christa Pike earlier this week was already absolutely sickening; but any nation which would televise an execution can only be regarded as little more than a cesspit. Obviously, my disdain for Yankland had been growing since the re-election of Trump, and I had been becoming less and less comfortable with the news coming from there; but I fear this morning’s news drops them over the precipice into the swamp of outright fascism.

I know how reactionary this might sound; I also know that not all americans support their current government, or advocate vile things like this. Yet as it stands as a nation, the USA can no longer be respected and can only be seen as a fascistic cesspool which deserves little more than our collective disgust. Far from being the greatest nation on earth, it ought to be viewed, for the time being at least, as little more than a self-important backwater which should never have been allowed to rise to the prominence it now enjoys. Any nation which would make such a spectacle of death has no claim to be civilised let alone great, and for all it’s cultural ubiquity now deserves only our revulsion. Of course, as a country it may one day redeem itself, and I profoundly hope it does; but the news we received this morning absolutely dashes any standing the United States ever enjoyed. Any culture or society which could even contemplate something so abhorrent surely deserves nothing but our collective disdain and revulsion.

Here’s quite a weird realisation: every day I go out as usual, exploring London, hopping on and off buses. I’m now quite used to it. At certain times of day though, children also ride the bus, obviously on their way to or from school. The thought I currently can’t get out of my head, however, is that those kids would have been born after I moved down to London in 2010. Most are obviously now quite able and independent young people, yet the realisation that I’ve been living in this great metropolis for longer than they have been alive is one I must admit to finding rather astonishing. I still remember when this city felt new and alien to me, but I’m now riding public transport alongside kids born after I moved here. It certainly puts things into a new perspective, I must say.

If there is one thing I can’t stand it’s littering. My parents always taught me and my brothers that rubbish should always be put in the bin, so I find the sight of people dropping litter utterly repugnant. I was on a bus earlier today: I was on my way home from my usual trundle, and the bus was becoming more and more crowded as it approached the centre of town. Sat in the wheelchair spot but facing towards the front of the bus, a man was sat in the chair almost opposite me. He carried a cane and wore quite an unusual bowler hat. I had to watch as he scoffed quite a large bag of crisps. That in itself was rather unedifying, but I didn’t say anything. However, what made me instantly furious and pushed me over the edge was the sight of him scrunching the empty crisp packet into a ball and stuffing it down the side of the bus seat. I don’t want to sound like a puritan or goody two-shoes, but it seemed so disrespectful that I couldn’t help shouting at him. There are bins everywhere in this city; it just takes a little care and respect to keep it clean. Needless to say the exchange didn’t end well: he obviously didn’t understand what I was saying, and I should probably have just kept myself to myself. Yet I suppose I’ve now grown so fond of London and its transport system that the sight of people treating it so disrespectfully really does boil my blood. But then, given that there is so little we can do to get such slobs to take more care of their surroundings, I suppose the most I can do is record the episode here.

I don’t have anything to add to this, other than that I couldn’t agree more.

It’s becoming more and more obvious that this county’s only logical option is to undo the crime of 2016. As the blatant damage of Brexit becomes clearer and clearer, the movement to rejoin is only going to get louder and louder.

I honestly think I may have a new favourite film this evening, or at least I urgently want to watch again. John suggested going to watch Digger this afternoon. To be honest I hadn’t heard of it, so I was torn between that and going on my usual trundle, but frankly it came as a reminder of just how intriguing an artform film can be. I know I shouldn’t spoil anything or give anything away, but Digger is the kind of film which knows what it is: it knows it is a work of fiction and admits it. I would call it very rhyzomic in the way it reflected in upon it’s own status as a film, somehow simultaneously breaking the fourth wall, admitting it’s own status, yet also maintaining it’s fiction. I couldn’t help detecting distinct whiffs of Monty Python or Terry Gilliam, quite. frankly.

Having said that, it’s also the kind of film which it is hard to say what it is about, or whether it should be viewed as a comedy or taken deadly seriously. It can be seen as overt political satire and theatrical drama in equal measure. There were also more film references than I could shake a stick at, including a very Bondian white cat. I left the cinema absolutely dying to do some background reading. Just when I was beginning to worry about the quality of cinema these days, I’m treated to a doozy like this.

It’s a bit of a long watch, but probably the best place I could direct everyone today is to this Newsnight interview with Ian Hislop. Many are saying that we live in increasingly troubled, fractured times, and as guys like Hislop are often first to point out, the only real remedy to such division is humour. To that end, I was glad to see the return of Have I Got News For You to TV last night. As The news we receive becomes more and more absurd with every bulletin, such satire obviously acts as a sort of release valve, giving us all permission to laugh at the sheer insanity of what is happening. We probably have a joint habit of treating politics and current affairs with the utmost reverence and seriousness, and we forget that, at the end of the day, it boils down to a bunch of over-privileged twits talking rubbish about things they barely understand.

I’m finding it more and more annoying that kids are now just grunting at me when I’m pass them in the streets: they grunt or make weird noises at me, their implication being that I have some kind of learning disability. It happened again this morning. I know that I should just ignore it, but it feels so derogatory and disrespectful, as though they think they are being clever in forcing a label onto me that I don’t necessarily want. The thing is, if they just took a few minutes to stop and talk to me, they would probably find that I’m not too different from them. But they never do, so all I can do is put up with them grunting at me in the street.

Something very strange is clearly happening with regard to the number of disabled people around. I just got back from a trip into central London, and the number of people who I saw using powerchairs, wheelchairs or wearing sunflower lanyards was far higher than it was ten of even just five years ago. Back then, it was rather rare for me to come across just one fellow powerchair user, but it now happens every time I go out. I must have seen at least four or five fellow powerchair users today. I can’t help wondering why. Could I be imagining it? Is it just occurring here in London? Is my perception biased because I live in a large urban area, or is this rise happening elsewhere too? Part of me thought I was just being bitter and cynical when I started speculating about what I called cultural intrusion, and I told myself that if more people were identifying as disabled for whatever reason, I had no cause to be upset about it. But I’m becoming more and more certain this rise in disability rates is real, possibly caused in large part by the pandemic, and that I probably need to start looking into it properly. As easy as it is to dismiss it as a kind of sociopolitical bandwagon jumping, it’s becoming apparent that something more complex is now happening which is probably worth taking the time to explore. As I wrote with regard to autism a few days ago, the definition of such conditions seems to be becoming wider. Perhaps the same is happening with our perception of what constitutes ‘a disability’.