When Chav Mums Go Viral

Taki's Magazine

Verbatim Post

by Colin Liddell

The most surprising news story in recent weeks was that of Emma West, a young lady of the type sneeringly referred to as “chav” (white working class, not fully trained in multicultural etiquette) who fearlessly shouted her opinions to a tram-loaded slice of multicultural London.

The incident itself was not so remarkable. But the fact that this clip, filmed and YouTubed by a non-chav (a blonde who uses a black avatar on her Twitter account) went on to score millions of hits was remarkable indeed.

Equally noteworthy was the heavy-handed way the authorities dealt with the case: West was imprisoned and her children taken into care.

A few days later a gang of female Somali racists who were filmed stamping on a white girl’s head while shouting “Kill the white slag” were released with a tut-tut and a judge’s apology for allowing alcohol to exist in the UK’s remaining non-Sharia zones.

“Women start revolutions because they are more emotionally driven than males.”

Emma West gave us a fleeting glimpse of women’s revolutionary power, a force that should never be underestimated and something of which Britain’s multicultural dictatorship seems cognizant. It was stupid of them to allow the Somali head-stomping racists off so lightly in the wake of the West case, but that gang attack was not revolutionary in nature and comprised no danger to the establishment. But Ms. West’s verbal tirade, despite its grammatical failings, was both revolutionary and dangerous.

Raw female passion has always provided the necessary impetus in past revolutions. The Women’s March on Versailles in 1789 ushered in the French Revolution’s truly revolutionary—as opposed to reformist—period.

Feminist accounts of the Russian Revolution tend to focus on the few educated women who made tea for the creeps who later presided over the genocide of tens of millions of Russians. But in the actual overthrow of Tsarist power it was the common women in the street fearlessly facing up to the Tsarist troops’ bayonets who tipped the balance.

Women start revolutions because they are more emotionally driven than males. And as the weaker sex, they learn to verbally bully men into submission because most of them are in relationships (i.e., prolonged arguments punctuated by bouts of shagging) with creatures that could easily snap their necks like chickens.

Men are wonderfully rational. They can find 1,001 reasons why the status quo stinks, but their rationality perpetually positions them on the wrong side of action.

Riding along in Emma West’s tram was probably at least one white man who felt similarly irritated and may have even suffered the same sort of provocation that perhaps sent Ms. West on her tirade. But at the last moment, reason’s placating tones kicked in: “I’ll get off in a couple of stops” or “There’s at least six of them—they’ll kill me” or, more pathetically, “I bloody well will say something in the Daily Mail comment box next time.” Heck, the dude might even have made up his mind to send money to the now-ineffective BNP to help pay off Nick Griffin’s legal debts.

No, to get things rolling you need the volatile chicks. The women can’t do it on their own, but once they flare up, men have a chance of losing that little bit of reason that prevents them from acting.

Female rage spearheaded Britain’s first and proportionally bloodiest revolution in 61 AD. Faced by the militarily hyper-efficient Roman legions, British men made the common-sense decision to let the Romans get on with their road-building, taxation, and emperor worship. The male Britons preferred to live the quiet life, watching whatever their version of Sky Sports was. Prasutagus, leader of the Iceni, even made the eminently sensible decision to curry favor with the new overlords by leaving them a half share in his kingdom when he died.

Even when the Romans confiscated the whole lot, the British men simply combed their long beards and polished their belt buckles. Pissed-off but still eminently rational, they stared off into the distance, perhaps to a remote future when anger could be harmlessly expressed on the Internet.

Things only got rolling when Prasutagus’s widow, the fearless and possibly menopausal Boadicea, gave the Roman oppressors an earload of the ancient British equivalent of “D’y’know what? Sort out your own countries. Don’t come and do mine. Britain is nothing now. Britain is fuck all. My Britain is fuck all now. Britain is fuck all. My Britain is fuck all!”

As they did with Emma West, those in power responded fiercely. They flogged Boadicea and raped her daughters, but this outrage suspended male rationality long enough for the revolution to commence.