Posted By Bernard Gaynor on Wednesday, May 14, 2014 12:10 am | 11 comments

This post is dedicated to all those poor sods who are still labouring away under dreary clouds in the fast-fading remnants of what used to be the Great British Empire.

Please pass on my thanks to your forebears for their civilisation. The glorious remains of quaint things like rule of law, courtesy, privacy and steadfast duty in the face of responsibility still occasionally rise to the surface in Australia. Who knows? They may even survive here.

And that gives me as much pleasure as the warm sunny days in the middle of our winter.

Please also accept my sincere condolences for the fact that you live in what is probably the bleakest of circumstances: a dead empire with nothing left but hoodlums, Anjem Choudary and government departments established for no other reason than to crunch data on your sexual preference.

About the only thing going for you guys is that dude on the car show who is brave enough to be politically incorrect.

I truly am sorry for the sad state of affairs in which you live. It sounds like about as much fun as sharing an outhouse with a redback spider during a power failure.

Let me also say that I thought long and hard before I wrote this post. You never can be too careful, as any drongo knows. I don’t want to write something that could see me blacklisted, if that word is still acceptable in the British Empire.

First up, I considered if I lived in England. The answer to that is no. Tick.

So far, this is pretty easy. Kind of like the last Ashes series.

Next question. Do I want to live in England?

Excuse me brain, but is that England as it is today, or as it was when it was functional, like when David Cameron-type figures were pin-up boys for the Socialist Party?

My brain informs me that the question is about current feel-good England. Well, the answer to that is also no. Tick.

Now, do I want to be a British public servant, like a teacher at an English school (as opposed to a teacher at a school that teaches English)? Ahh, no. That only took about two seconds. Tick.

Final question. Will I cry like a baby if I ever want to go to England and Her Majesty’s Immigration Commissar refuses me a visa because I have offended the entire Sexual-Preference Investigative Service?

C’mon. This is simple. Why would I want to go to a country that has a government department dedicated to keeping tabs on my sexuality? Again, the answer is no. Tick.

Tick, tick, tick, tick. Finished in record time. I’ve learnt today that thinking long and hard occasionally only takes about as much time as it does to clear a beach when a hoop-snake slithers in on the scene.

So, now that I have the risk assessment done and dusted and feel secure that my post won’t result in the release of a rabid pack of dingos, I’m happy to go ahead.

So what’s all this about then?

It’s about your bloody crazy, moon-bat, left-wing, handbag-swinging, pot-smoking, tofu-eating, femonazi, commo, pinko, glitter-encrusted, new-age and utterly ridiculous equality and diversity questionnaires. They are attached to the public service job applications that must be filled out by any hope-deprived soul still looking for employment in what used to be the land of the free.

I’ve helpfully displayed one below.

Are you lot serious?

Have you lost your marbles?

Why on earth do you have a government that collects data on your sexual preference when you apply for a job?

And why have you lot of sorry excuses for what used to be hardy British subjects not done anything about it?

I know things aren’t great in Australia, but you guys are about as useful as a bunch of bananas in a gunfight.

The only reason your government collects data on whether you sleep with your wife or the drag-queen up the street is so that the cross-dressing perverts that have taken hold of your country by what’s left of its proverbials can get a taxpayer-funded job. But you can’t.

The only reason your government cares about your religious beliefs is so that it can prioritise work for people who think that Allah is Akbar. And so it can prioritise you out.

The only reason your government asks you to fill in a form asking for your skin colour is so that it can make sure that descendents of every tribe bar the Angles and the Saxons can get a leg up. While they climb all over you.

The only reason your government asks if you are married or if you have partook in a homosexual civil union…I’m sure by now you get my drift.

These questionnaires say a lot about the fallen state of the UK. And none of it is good.

They also highlight the sheer hypocrisy of the equality warriors.

These morons champion a lollipop-filled land where children frolic on sunlit pastures, ever basking in the warm glow of self-righteous knowledge that sexual preference and gender identity supposedly matter no more. Yet now British law mandates that a job applicant for the public service tell the government about their sexual proclivities. It’s called the Equality Act 2010.

When the Empire was expanding, the only time such data was collected was if the state wanted to do an enemy in by exploiting the very private details of their life. Some things have changed, but clearly not all of them.

In today’s world, where jobs are supposedly handed out on merit in the UK, all the government wants to know about is whether you fit into one of its ‘protected’ categories.

Apparently this is better than the bad old days. The Equality Police have outlawed them precisely because sexual preference was never a topic on a job application form. No one ever asked about it. People just assumed that you would be polite and keep such private matters to yourself. Especially if you were a weirdo.

Now great taxpayer-funded super-computers cut through reams of data, analysing the latest trends before spitting out code red reports. Then some taxpayer-funded bloke runs in from the taxpayer-funded Islamic prayer room next door to hand over the latest update to the taxpayer-funded bearded lady sitting behind a taxpayer-funded desk labelled ‘Equalisation Bureau Commandant’.

They both hate each other’s guts but do agree on one thing: something must be done about the fact that too many nominal Christians are employed in the Borough of Bexley.

The only way to solve that little problem is to ‘advance the equality of persons’ by ensuring that more Arabs, Chinese and divorced gay men are graduated in the Department of Administrative Affairs’ next recruitment intake.

Sir Humphrey would be happily shocked.

However, there is a downside. If government departments need to keep tabs on the sexual exploits of their workers to ensure that every separate protected category of deviant is properly represented according to their societal ratio, guess what? It means that the government is poking its nose into everybody’s bedroom as well.

It’s the only way it could possibly keep tabs on such things. And that’s just creepy.

But don’t take my word for it. Have a captain cook at the Equality Act 2010.

Part 11, Chapter 2, Section 159 is straight out of George Orwell’s 1984. He got the general gist of Big Brother right, but he was just 26 years too early. That’s not a bad effort.

This law says that it’s fine and dandy to give a job to pretty much anyone who is not a white, English male over someone who is a white, English male simply because the former is not a white, English male. And it’s proudly called anti-discrimination.

Sensible people would call it sheer stupidity. I certainly do and I come from a nation made great by immigration.

In normal countries, if two people have the same qualifications but one of them has lobbed in from someplace else, the law will ensure that the home-town lad is protected. Immigrants are welcome if they can add to the nation. Not so much if they just force a local out of a job.

In the UK, it’s the other way around.

And considering the fact that this law has been in place for the entire period the ‘conservatives’ have been running the joint over there, it’s pretty clear that things are amiss. There are not too many sensible people left on the British Isles.

And that is why I would never move to England.

Not even if there was a plague of drop bears here in Australia, gallumping their way across Sydney Harbour Bridge.