There’s an ancient band of bampots who we might have thought were dead and buried, but are struggling their way back to the surface to tell us about an urgent new threat to our health and wellbeing.
In 2001, I moved out of London and into the shires. As a newly minted IT contractor with a bunch of years in the City under my belt, internet access and mobile phones were the lifeblood of my working day before most people had either.
So having to trade London’s 0.5megabit broadband for a 0.125mbit ISDN line was a bit of a pain. Worse though, was having a mobile phone that was of no use within a half mile of my house.
One campaigning man, backed by a gaggle of gullible parents straight off the set of South Park, was responsible for this blackspot. I went to war with him in the local papers over his scientifically ignorant scaremongering and his superstitious attitude to progress.
At this time, all the arguing about global warming had gained momentum, and one of the key concepts that had entered the consciousness of broadsheet readers was the ‘precautionary principle’. This, in a nutshell, says that ‘unless we can be absolutely sure that there is no risk attached to this action, it should not proceed’.
This is classic warmist psi-ops. It is a fallacy that projects an air of virtuous concern for the common good, and forces the opponent of the argument to prove a negative in order to make their case, which is impossible. Such is the power of this legerdemain that it spread and took on many forms, including anti-vax and opposition to mobile phone masts.
The phone will cook your brain and, when you put it in your pocket, your organs. The masts will slowly bake all babies within a 1 mile radius. This is literally what they said, in the most emphatic of terms. But it didn’t happen. 18 years later, none of it has happened.
But this time it’s different, of course. Because these are much higher frequencies and need far more antennas and stations. And microwaves. And also black cats walking under ladders, while stepping on pavement cracks.
Of course, all of the national and global authorities on the matter say 5G is safe. But the doubters don’t trust these authorities who, they say, have a vested interest in the successful rollout of the technology.
These are the same authorities, of course, who are trusted (and don’t you dare say otherwise!) to build the roads, run the hospitals, house the poor, keep law and order, police our borders, carry out their democratic mandates, take a big chunk of all our earnings and deliver value for our money and equitable outcomes.
As with so many of these things, I wonder quite how consistent these people are in their principles. How many would fiercely insist that ‘the science is settled’ on global warming while opposing mobile phone masts on the grounds that scientists and lawmakers are in the pockets of lobbyists and big business and – paradoxically perhaps – have a vested interest in wiping us all out via cancer and infertility?
And it tickles me how certain these people are of their position. I need to ‘educate myself’ and ‘do my research’. Some of them are even gulled by this Walter Mitty bampot in Gateshead… an alleged ex-jailbird – who claims to be a weapons technology expert but has a sociology qualification from the OU and, importantly, a bronze swimming certificate – who’s set about convincing the good burghers of Gateshead, that the LED streetlights there have secret trial 5G antennas on them, which are causing sickness, nosebleeds and miscarriages, killing birds and insects and, presumably, making Newcastle United lose at home.
The council denies this of course, but nobody trusts a word the council says, until some filthy Tory bastard threatens to cut the council down to size, then it’s suddenly Our Lady of Lindisfarne, Mother of God and Saviour of Mankind. But I digress. Likewise the NHS.
Not that the guy is a monomaniac, by the way, but he’s been crapping on about mobile signals and Wifi cooking ‘our children’ (the ones that are still, by some miracle, being born) since 2016 at least.
So powerful is his message (as he gives barnstorming speeches into his hairbrush, in front of his bathroom mirror, in his pants) that he’s not even felt it necessary to present a scientific case to back up his ramshackle collection of assertions.
He has no shortage of internet adherants, of course, who will go angrily into battle against anyone who dares to shake the foundations of their deeply held beliefs.
And these people will all be voting on Thursday, where the choice is Magic Grandpa or Boffo the Clown. Happy days.