We love having an ear in the camp. It’s amazing the little titbits we come across. Take the one about Folding Golding’s imminent demise, for example.
A few months ago we predicted that both Golding and Fransen would soon graduate to the proverbial scrap heap once they’d exhausted their usefulness. Based on a few throwaway comments our ‘mole in the hole’ had overheard and a little deduction we seem to have got it wrong. Not completely wrong – we just over-egged the pudding a little.
Uncle Jim isn’t getting rid of Folding AND Dutchy. Oh no. He’s keeping Dutchy but Folding is toast. It will take a while but the writing is most definitely on the wall for the Fuhrer who seems destined to become, in the words of Lord Rosenbery,
“Chief mourner at his own protracted funeral”.
It’s ironic that these words, originally uttered in 1895 at the death of Lord Randolph Churchill, referred to the father of one of the Biffers’ most profitable cash cows. Randolph’s son, Winston Churchill is wheeled out with depressing regularity whenever Golding and co want to discredit the great man’s memory with made up quotations or defile his statesmanship with their out of context assertions.
It’s even more ironic that Lord Randolph’s demise, like Golding’s own will be, was slow, painful to watch and relentlessly inevitable.
Randolph Churchill died of syphilis, once known as ‘general paralysis of the insane’ because of its impact upon the mental health of its victims. Golding’s own demise is equally protracted, fuelled by a deteriorating, megalomaniac insanity. And now that it has begun it will be just as relentless and inevitable.
There was little sympathy for Lord Randolph Churchill in 1895. Most people simply shrugged and moved on, conscious of the fact that the elderly letch had ‘brought it upon himself’.
And so it is with Golding. He’s started to believe his own hype. The former NF bully boy with his ridiculous, underwear-based headgear has also brought it upon himself. Neither a leader nor a follower, Folding Golding has carved out a niche for himself somewhere between the two. He’s perched his little footsies half way up the ladder of success, firmly stuck in the realms of mediocrity and that’s just not profitable enough for Uncle Jim.
With a word here and a whisper there Golding’s megalomania has been turned against him. His sycophantic followers, egged on by Dowson have persuaded ‘The boss’ to run for Mayor of London. He’ll be humiliated, of course and with that defeat his political aspirations will end. Folding Golding will be out on his ear, just as we always knew he would and his sidekick, Dutchy Fransen will take up the reins.
It couldn’t happen to a more deserving Nazi!