CITIZEN KHAN.

I must state that I am not suffering confusion over the iconic film by Orson Wells, this is nothing to do with Hollywood or stars of the silver screen. No. There is no mix up, for the individual who is the object of my attentions is not Citizen Kane, but Khan, you know, the publicity hungry prat currently masquerading as Mayor of London. Not the revered Lord Mayor whose provenance stretches seven hundred years into antiquity, but the designer wog who exists for the sole purpose of squandering the tax payer’s cash on projects conceived only to flatter his vanity. Although one should not be too censorious, he gives us of his all, expending his considerable energies on what he does best, which is frankly fuck all, or at least nothing of use or benefit to this our benighted capital of London Town.

Now, I have flattered the man and his abilities enough, my tolerance and kindness can only be stretched so far and their boundaries have now been breached, so no more kind words for the individual to whom this monologue is directed. The office of elected mayor exists only to bung financial rewards into the wallets of clapped out politicians too incompetent and idle to go out and undertake a proper job, a charge which could equally be levied at the entire tribe of politcos for whom honesty equates with a dose of the clap.

Our hero loves a bandwagon, can’t resist one if truth be told, not that truth and Sadiq Khan have ever formed any sort of bond. However the man is incapable of letting one pass him by on the high street without jumping on it, especially if it is running in support of some fashionable cause beloved of the urban intelligentsia whose enthusiasms are of no interest to the toiling masses whose taxes they rely on to pay for their generous subventions. But do not complain, that is democracy in action, you might get to vote for the bastards, but by God you pay through the nose for the privilege. Make no mistake, old man Khan costs us a pretty packet, and in return we are expected to be grateful for his attentions.

So. What exactly is the shyster up to. For a start there is air pollution, despite the fact that city life has never been healthier and we are no longer expected to walk the streets ankle deep in horse crap, but we must not let a seasoning of common sense get in the way of screwing the motorist to enter central London as Khan is proposing. The Guardian reading luvvies adore this sort of posturing, it makes them feel superior, especially as they can afford the charges having sheltered their large incomes in tax avoidance schemes.

Oh, I have not finished yet, not by a long chalk, fear ye not, there is more to come. Our fearless social warrior has declared war on wood burning stoves. Now I have never come across a wood burning stove, nor have I met anyone who has, admittedly I do not move in the social circles where such affectations are practiced, although I was rather under the impression that wood burning contraptions had not been seen since the Romans waved us ta ta and took them home with them some sixteen hundred years ago. Still it makes a damn good headline, and that is all that matters. In politics one must be seen to be compassionate, and if ones compassion causes distress to large numbers of people, well that life innit.

I cannot for the life of me work out why the likes of Sadiq khan have been foisted on us, it is not as if we are unable to navigate the vicissitudes of this world without his assistance and guidance, but there you are, we are saddled with the preposterous sod. Gawd ‘elp us. Now I will take a tour of the history of this political indulgence, the Mayoralty of London. First there was Ken Livingston, an adenoidal Marxist, an individual who has never done a job of work in his life but still manages to live high on the hog whilst acting like one. Ken is a weird cove whose hobbies are newts and wolloping his missus, ah well one must make allowances for prominent Marxists as the rules of society do not apply to them, which makes me think that if I turn Marxist will I be allowed to wallop the missus and get away with it? Are we not all equal?

After Ken we had Boris. No discernable improvement there. Bone idle and the national buffoon is the best I can manage on this subject, the man is all balls, not that I have seen his balls you understand but enough women have, even his wife sees them on the odd occasion when they are not employed elsewhere.

Back to sadiq. His latest wheeze is to take the licence to ferry people around the capital from the firm Uber, thus putting thousands of drivers out of work, and up to their eyeballs in debt trying to pay off the cost of the cars they bought and inconveniencing hundreds of thousands of the public who use their services. You have to give it to the man, he certainly knows how to stuff things up. How will our hero go down in the annals of London? After the taxi fiasco he will undoubtedly be labelled, London’s Uber Mensch.