The Tragedy of John Cleese
It is no secret that England, and Britain as a whole, has been sleep-walking into disaster for some time now.
The video version of this article may be watched here.
There exists a fate worse than death. A prison with bars not visible to anyone other than one's self. An endless punishment for a long-forgotten crime. A life lived in the ashes of a house burned down by one's own flame. To walk in the ashes, and see simultaneously what is, and what once was. For the beloved comedian, and Monty Python alum, England is the ashes.
It was a fire that was lit in Mr. Cleese' prime, the 1960s counterculture. An epoch which mercilessly denigrated this land of ours and all its idiosyncrasies and charms. The polite, well-meaning and fundamentally conservative life of provincial England came undone under the immense pressure of the new culture, itself becoming a more totalitarian version than the old which was mocked so mercilessly. The new culture of promiscuity, drugs, unfettered individual self-expression and the citizen of nowhere in particular. The foregoing of one's duty to family, community and nation became trendy, encouraged, venerated even. After all, what greater service is there than to one's own immediate, physical desires?
It is no secret that England, and Britain as a whole, has been sleep-walking into disaster for some time now. We, at large, have lost moral confidence, our place in the world. Our cultural output, once the envy of the world, has fallen into vacuous disrepair. England is denigrated, constantly, by those who have greedily accepted every opportunity she has to bear. 'We are not an island', we are told in advertisements. 'Roll over and accept it', is the subtext.
I'd like to draw your attention to an anonymous post on the forum website 4chan, which forms the basis for what I have titled the Tragedy of John Cleese. It goes:
"He was a Progressive, Liberal degenerate in 1960s uber-white uber-polite Britain. He could take the p*** out of the people he saw as uptight and repressed while enjoying the clean, safe streets and quiet little hamlets full of those same uptight, repressed, polite-to-a-fault, helpful, white Christian Englishmen.
"The best part was that those same British conservative Anglos were generally pretty humorous about themselves. So, when you made fun of them, they laughed along with you and shook their heads saying 'Ha! You know, Margie, he's got a point!' It was heaven on earth for him, to be a popular counter-culture icon loved by conservatives and liberals alike for being hilarious, but also enjoy the benefits of a strong, stable and homogeneous culture.
"Now, he's an old man, staring at a desolate wasteland where in London, Britons are now in the minority. Everyone is suspicious, the hamlets and villages are economic dead-zones. Every week, there's a new group you're not allowed to make fun of, no one has a sense of humour anymore. Little girls are being sold as sex slaves, women are harassed in the street and the men are suspicious and surly over their lowered living standards. The sinking realisation that the world he made fun of, but loved more than anything, is gone forever and will never come back. The horrifying conclusion that his own counter-cultural irreverence may have helped to kill it. So, he impotently gripes on Twitter and wonders where the laughter went, when did the jokes stop? Where are those wonderful, repressed and uptight conservatives?"
Mr. Cleese will return to our screens soon with a documentary series on the 'cancel culture' phenomenon. Titled 'Cancel Me', Cleese will attempt to uncover the causes and origins of “why a new ‘woke’ generation is trying to rewrite the rules on what can and can’t be said”.
"I’m delighted to have a chance to find out, on camera, about all the aspects of so-called Political Correctness.
‘There’s so much I really don’t understand, like: how the impeccable idea of 'Let’s all be kind to people' has been developed in some cases ad absurdum.
"I want to bring the various reasonings right out in the open so that people can be clearer in their minds what they agree with, what they don’t agree with, and what they still can’t make their mind up about."
He mentions political correctness as if it were new. Something that emerged out of a campus vacuum in the mid 2010s. Yet, its true origin is something far closer to home. John Cleese cut his teeth in the 1960s. As I've previously stated, it was a time of revolution, a springboard into hyper-modernity, hyper-liberalism. It was the death of the suit, the family, the stigmatic removal of undesirable and unbecoming behaviour. The normalisation of sex, drugs, and psychedelia. A time of free expression without limits, restraints, or shame. Hedonism without consequences. Pregnant? Just have an abortion. Bored at a party? Here, take this. 'Only God can judge me, except he doesn't exist.'
I hold Mr. Cleese in an incredibly high regard. His comedy still brings joy to millions, myself included. This article is not an articulation of scorn, or lambast even. It is one of sympathy. One never knows the beauty of what they possess, until they play a role in its destruction.
