A day in the life of a cancelled right-wing gobshite
By Norman Steele
CANCEL culture is ruining Britain by stopping people like me being heard, apart from on TV, in the newspapers and on the internet. Here is a day in my terrible life.
8am. Wake up in hell. Well, actually it’s my three-bedroom house in a salubrious part of North London, but I’ve been thrown into the hell of a Twitter spat for saying every employee in the UK will be forced to ‘take the knee’ when they arrive at work or face the sack. Yes, it was purely speculation on my part, but that’s free speech.
11.30am. Back from a traumatic hospital experience. I turned up and asked, in the Queen’s English, to be let into the hospital I pay my taxes for so I could stand in reception and bellow about the ‘plandemic’. They refused to let me in, obviously worried about the lies I would uncover. Meanwhile, immigrant staff were being allowed to wander around freely.
2.30pm. Went to my local police station. When asked what my business was I informed them I was turning myself in because I’d enjoyed the episode of Fawlty Towers where the Major uses a racial epithet and I needed to be immediately thrown into jail. The desk sergeant told me to stop wasting police time. Cancel culture has even infected the police, as I later explained on Julia Hartley-Brewer’s nationally broadcast Talkradio show.
6.30pm. Watched some of the Donald Trump impeachment trial. That poor man has suffered terribly from people trying to cancel him, and all whilst he was working very hard to cancel an election result. And he was cancelled from Twitter, which should be open to anyone wanting to incite deadly violence. But that’s cancel culture for you.