When Two Worlds Collide: Black Lives Matter in Chelmsford Too.

It’s a curious thing when Black Lives Matters reaches the UK, especially in sleepy rural areas and backwaters away from London.

Places that have never ever seen an American cop, even on holiday. Places that have probably barely ever seen anyone black. How can you oppress a person who isn’t there? Is it like the old philosophical conundrum about trees falling in a wood where nobody can hear them. Do they still make a sound?

Am I still giving off my magical White Oppression Evil Villain Rays ™ down some country lane when the only other person I meet is called Susan and even the dogs being walked are generally Aryan blonde retrievers? And as we chat, all the while my magical White Privilege ™ is scattering diamonds and gold bars in my path.

Thank fuck for those White Privilege ™ gold bars. They have really helped ever since my Alabama cotton plantation was closed down and I had to take my loyal old black retainer Moses into the garden and shoot him. But I no longer needed Moses, and after all, I’m a White Devil, so what did you expect?

There’s a Black Lives Matter protest coming to Chelmsford, for instance. Chelmsford. That hotbed of prejudice where someone black is killed once every 300 years. There have probably been more giraffes accidentally or deliberately killed in Chelmsford than black people. There might have been a blunderbuss incident in the 18th century when a black sailor strayed from Maldon, who knows?

This thing will be organised by white students, will be attended by white students and will represent white students who couldn’t point to Minnesota on a map. Until last week they would probably have struggled to name it as a state. They know less about Minnesota than I know about Tibetan hroat warbling. Specialist Subject: ‘Race Relations in Minnesota’. Score? Zero. There’s more chance of me recreating the Sistine Chapel in a spare three hours then these fuckwits bothering to know a single thing about Minnesota.

Yeah but Chelmsford is a Republican Trump voting redneck town where all the cops are white, man.

Erm, no.

People in Chelmsford protesting about what happened to George Floyd are as realistic, relevant and necessary as people in Ulan Bator protesting about what happened to Lee Rigby. Yes, it was shit, or at least it seems that way from the tiny sliver of information my TV gave me in the thirty three seconds of intense research I undertook to reach my conclusion that the US is systemically racist towards black people.

The mean streets of Chelmsford. Take care out there. You know who has a right to talk about historic oppression in Chelmsford, or Manningtree, or Braintree, or similar little nowhere places scattered across the UK? Witches. Little old white women. They were definitely oppressed in this area. You know who gets persecuted by the police here now? Motorists. Anyone doing 35 in a 30mph road. It’s brutal. You might get three points on your licence and not be shot. You might have to attend a Speed Awareness Course, get this, EVEN IF YOU ARE BLACK.

I’ll stop there, it’s too emotional. All this suffering. Thank goodness the 16-25 year olds are going to Smash Racism by telling us how much they hate mummy, daddy and the 20k daddy is putting down on tuition fees so they don’t get into debt. The system, guys, the system is out to get you. But still, you Save The World between the first wank of the day and the afternoon session of Call of Duty. Remember to shoot the little white pixels first.