Monday, 2nd November 2009.

Bloodlust for Life

The Sun reports a non-violent altercation at Asda Rochdale, where a mother of three was reportedly refused service by an Asian checkout assistant because she was wearing a Help For Heroes band, which, the assistant maintained, meant that she “supported the war in Iraq”. When 40-year-old Beth Hoyle complained to a supervisor, she was told that it was his right to refuse service. Angry, she went straight to the press. Asda, when confronted, said that they were appalled at the claim, but that they could find no evidence whatsoever that it actually happened, and that they’d be happy to discuss it with the woman concerned if she wanted to take it further.

The sheer ridiculousness of the story – as well as the scant detail – should be a clear indication that it’s almost certainly made up, as most of these stories are. There’s a clear pattern at work: lower / middle-class white adult experiences racism from ethnic minority, thereby deflating the myth that only white people are capable of discrimination. White person is treated in a wildly implausible and thoroughly unprofessional manner, and is left dejected and humiliated. Cue shock and awe from a dumbstruck public – sorry, that should be a dumb public – who maintain that this is “a clear infringement of our right to support our boys”, or, worse, “political correctness gone mad”. We had an influx of them over the summer, but as October shifts into November, it’s now time for the Christmas myths: numerous tales of local authorities pandering to the needs of Muslims by abolishing Christmas in favour of the Winter Festival, which would be ridiculous if it were actually happening, but with one or two crackpot exceptions it simply isn’t.

No, the truth is that we just love a good scandal, particularly when it involves a heartless corporate giant (Wal-Mart, in this case) stomping all over the feelings of the common man (woman, in this case), eroding our British traditions and customs in order to pander to the whims of the influx of workshy towel-headed immigrants and their left-wing Labour-supporting loony liberal sycophantic sympathisers. As the country goes to hell in a handcart, we’re all told to down tools and march for justice and the welfare of our rights and way of life, before we’re all forced to adopt Sharia law and face Mecca five times a day. And so we ignore the outrageousness of Mrs Hoyle’s claim. No Asda checkout assistant in their right mind would have behaved in this manner, nor would their supervisor – although when you point this out, we’re told that “that’s just what they want you to think”. The store may have voiced scepticism that the event actually occurred, but they’ve been quick to invite Mrs Hoyle back in to talk to them, which is not the calling card of a chain that supports this sort of behaviour – nor of one that allegedly doesn’t support the Help for Heroes campaign, as some have maintained.

The problem is that there have been one or two documented cases of ridiculous behaviour of this type, but that is hardly representative of the pandemic that the press would have us believe is rife amongst our high streets and local authorities. A couple of years back, either the Independent or the Guardian (and I wish I could remember which) ran a piece documenting several utterly fake stories that the tabloids had printed about the derogatory impact of Islamic values on our society, including the decision of one Muslim bus driver to stop on his route to pray, thereby holding up his passengers. It was completely false and the newspaper did eventually apologise (in a half-hearted, three inches on page nineteen sort of manner), but the damage was done: you give these people an inch, and they’ll take a marathon, and before you know it the papers are full of stories about the removal of The Three Little Pigs from school libraries, and branches of Dominos only serving Halal meat. (Actually, that one was true, but given that the franchise’s client base was ninety five per cent Muslim you can perhaps understand their need to change their buying practices.) Meanwhile, the rumour mill grinds into ugly motion, and makes an annoying clanking sound.

It’s tempting to lay the blame for this likely misunderstanding at this squarely at the foot of the Sun, but to be fair to them, they’ve only brought the story to a national audience: the source, as it turns out, was an article in the Rochdale Observer. Nonetheless, the thread on the Sun’s discussion forum was arguably the place where the real trouble was brewing, rife as it was with vicious comments, most of which ran along the lines of “I am boycotting Asda for the rest of my days, and I hope that these people are fired and that their children’s puppies get stomped to death”. I am only exaggerating slightly. There have been a selection of voices of reason who have pointed out that the story is almost certainly false, but they’ve been shot down in flames. I am staying well out of this one. I know my limits.

Perhaps it’s appropriate that my music of choice this morning was Kaiser Chiefs’ Yours Truly, Angry Mob, which seems to defy the ‘difficult second album’ cliché. It’s an absolute stormer, from ‘Highroyds’ lament for teenage ebullience (“I remember nights out when we were young / They weren’t very good, they were rubbish”) to the jubilant singalong chorus of ‘Ruby’ – an album of defiant, rollicking good tunes. Kaiser Chiefs get a lot of flak for producing ‘jukebox hits’, but there’s nothing jukebox about the (partial) title track – as Ricky Wilson boasts that he “can prove anything / The way that it’s read again and again”, he discusses street violence, twenty-four hour drinking, and even gets in a nod to Jim’ll Fix It. But it’s the song’s two-minute coda that provide the album’s high spot, as the band proclaim that “We are the angry mob / We read the papers every day / We like who we like, we hate who we hate / But we’re also easily swayed”, amidst rumbling, grungy guitar chords and rolling drums. It goes on for ages, but you don’t want it to stop.

Seriously, has there ever been a more damning indictment of the Facebook generation than this? You know the people I mean. Armchair politicians. The ones who think they care about the state of the country – actually, the ones who think they’re the only people who care about the state of the country – but are really just trying to satisfy an intrinsic need to see someone get the shit kicked out of them. The ones who sign e-petitions. The ones who suggest that “if we were to bring back the death penalty, I’d be first to pull the trigger”. The Islamophobes. The ones who maintain that the system is irrevocably corrupt and that the BNP are the only way forward. The ones who advocate that “charity begins at home”, used largely as an excuse to slam the door in the faces of Christian Aid collectors.

I was going to include a disparaging addendum to that list about thinking that it doesn’t get any better than a six pack of Stella and a kebab after last orders – but that’s unfair, because some of these people don’t drink. The angry mob mentality transcends age and class barriers (although it’s fair to say that I don’t know many aristocrats with ASBOs). You don’t need to have a particularly high or low level of education: you just need to think that you know better than everyone else. You also need to have unfailing faith in the press, broadsheet and tabloid alike. You need to have an opinion, and you need to make sure that your opinion is heard, because anyone who says that your opinion is wrong is a fascist and part of the corrupt government state who wants to flood this place with immigrants until our systems are at breaking point.

These people have a vote, and they have a right to be heard, and we have the responsibility to listen, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I stand ardently by Evelyn Beatrice Hall’s assertion that “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it”, but by Christ it’s hard when you have to listen to some of the crap that’s spouted by the rabble that frequent forums – forums that I visit, before you ask, because while I’m a misguided man with lofty and pretentious ideals, I’m trying to help people to think, and because even Jesus himself said that doctors don’t visit healthy people. Perhaps most dismaying of all the traits displayed by the angry mob is the tendency to believe everything that’s written in the papers, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they’re being manipulated by a gutter press who tell them what they’re supposed to think and how they’re supposed to feel – a mass media who destroy lives by reporting an incomplete truth, or a heavily distorted truth, or even articles that are blatantly false. It’s inconceivable that anyone could have read the Rochdale Asda story and not immediately suspected it, given Asda’s denial and the fact that details are scant and witnesses missing – but, of course, it tells us exactly what we want to hear, which is that Muslims are out to destroy this country and Our Boys overseas. Another excuse to run out and bang on the roofs of police vans outside the courts in between signing on and watching that morning’s instalment of Jeremy Kyle.

The frightening thing is that Kaiser Chiefs’ ‘The Angry Mob’ is a couple of years old now, and I suspect that there’s a contingent of people out there who have adopted it as their official anthem for National Change. It’s the sort of chorus they’d chant en route to the court of appeal where the trial of a notorious paedophile is taking place. Now, I think that all convicted sex offenders should be locked up for a very long time, and kept away from children permanently (Al Murray was correct – being a parent does make you more right wing) but I also believe in rehabilitation and redemption, albeit behind padlocked doors. I don’t believe that executing them because “it costs the taxpayer too much to keep them alive” is really the answer, and the day we go down that particular road is the day that society is doomed. Because if the welfare of violent criminals is a waste of public funds, then why not also get rid of the geriatrics who can’t feed themselves and who are enduring a miserable existence anyway? And if the geriatrics, then why not the chronically unemployable? Why not the disabled? Why not the retarded? Why not the gays? Why not the Muslims?

But all this is a moot point to the angry mob, whose inability to see the world in anything other than black and white has them convinced that if you’re not in direct support of the death penalty, you’re a paedophile sympathiser and quite possibly a kiddie fiddler yourself. Ergo they will continue on their march, even though they’ve exchanged pitchforks for placards. They display a shocking lack of understanding when it comes to the criminal justice system, which is not a terrible thing, but suggesting that you yourself can do better than the judges – and telling them so – is another matter entirely. The web has empowered humanity and given everyone a voice (unless you happen to live in China, anyway) but the upshot of this is that we’re more inclined to jump in feet first, without verifying our sources, researching our facts or spellchecking our emails. I’m inclined to believe that my own views on what goes on in and outside of a courtroom are overwhelmingly insignificant, because whatever I may think I know, my only real certainty is that of ignorance.

In this, I’m reminded of 24’s Noah Daniels, the Vice President who reflects to an advisor that “It’s easy to think you’ve got all the answers when none of the ultimate responsibility lies with you. But sitting in this chair…until you sit in this chair, you don’t know anything.” It’s a telling line that was heard by many but, I fear, understood by few. As teenagers, we laughed at the antisocial Kevin on Harry Enfield and Chums, not realising that he was based on us. Some eleven or twelve years later, Catherine Tate pulled off exactly the same stunt. Objects of scorn very rarely see themselves in those who scoff at them.

So the prospect of anyone taking ‘The Angry Mob’ seriously would be mildly frightening, but old news. In Things The Grandchildren Should Know, Eels’ Mark Everett discusses growing up in Virginia alongside teenagers who would sing along to Randy Newman’s ‘Rednecks’ and completely miss the satire, taking the unpleasant sentiment contained therein at face value. Jarvis Cocker says he was accosted backstage by a burly Scot who said that “Common People is me. I’m that song, man”, again missing the irony – as Jarvis puts it – that “It’s the ultimate insult, really, calling people common”. The Reagan administration adopted ‘Born In the USA’ for an election campaign, either oblivious to or simply wilfully ignoring the fact that the song was a damning indictment on Republican values and the very foreign policy that Reagan himself embodied. And Phil Collins has revealed that at least one unscrupulous televangelist has expressed public support for ‘Jesus He Knows Me’, unaware that he himself was the target for the Genesis frontman’s abuse. Presumably he never saw the video.

And me? Well, I’m a hypocrite, because – as I’ve admitted on more than one occasion, although never in here – if someone were to touch any of my children, I’d probably want to see them dead as well. But I don’t think I’d be able to do it. My bloodlust is purely testosterone fantasy – the part of you that wants to leap in front of your children to take the bullets that would have otherwise hit them, preferably in slow motion, or run from a burning building with one son under each arm and the baby in a sling, again in slow motion. The part of you that thinks you can genuinely outrun a fireball, even though this is scientifically implausible. But I’m aware of it, and it is therefore safe, and I can temper it and shut that part of me away when I need to. I don’t want to go too us-and-them – even the dull and ignorant have their story – but I suspect that this is a faculty not possessed by the bulk of the angry mob.