“Lots of people hate your daddy,” said anarchist Ian Bone to Jacob Rees-Mogg’s young son. “Do you know that?” With which Rees-Mogg acted like every good dad should, protecting his son from any chance of danger. Is the little boy ‘fair game’ because of who his father is? No, he bleeding isn’t.
Do I hate Jacob Rees-Mogg, the MP for the 19th century? Two things. I don’t know the bloke and hate is a very strong word. So, no I don’t hate him. Do I hate the system that allows those of great privilege to reach the commanding heights of society? Yes, I do. And do I hate – and I repeat, hate is a very strong word – what Rees-Mogg is trying to do to our country by supporting a hard, cliff-edge Brexit. Yes, of course. Christ, most Tories think like that, never mind soggy, liberal mainstream Labour voters like me.
We are talking about ideas, aren’t we? That’s different from talking about people. Granted, I hated, really truly hated, Margaret Thatcher – in fact, her death has not changed my feelings about her one iota – but it’s the ideas we should be challenging, not the young child of a right wing politician with ideas and views that would, if implemented, have devastating effects on the poor bloody workers.
And to see Rees Mogg’s family accosted by a worthless anarchist is as bonkers as it gets. Mr Bone does not believe in anything the rest of us believe in. He doesn’t believe in elections, or the very idea of democracy. He believes in anarchy which as philosophies go is more than a little loose and vague.
As well as being an anarchist, Mr Bone is a loud-mouthed bully and I hate – that word again – bullies. I hate bullies whether they are in the playground, whether they belong to the Football Lads Alliance, whether they the mafia-like thugs of the Labour and trade union movement or whether they are a one hit wonder band like Chumbawumba who think politics is enhanced by chucking a bucket of water over a genuinely working class deputy prime minister.
I was pleased that Rees-Mogg stood up to Mr Bone, as I was pleased when Rees Mogg stood up to the middle class luvvies at the UWE who recently tried to shout him down. He’s no hero. He’s upper class and proud of it, he’s a hypocrite who stores his money abroad to protect himself from the worst ravages of Brexit, he wants to extend the class divide, not close it. All of these things might appal your average Joe or Josephine but that’s the way life is and the only way to challenge these things is through argument, through debate and if they don’t work, by punching the other bloke’s lights out. I don’t really mean the last bit, there, but here I am in Jacob Rees-Mogg’s corner. And certainly his son’s.