Regular readers of my work here on Mercator may recall my extreme distress at a recent run-in with a gay British Gas van, a form of mental trauma so severe I seriously considered fleeing to Russia over it. I have also just written elsewhere about my even greater alarm and fear at encountering a local “Gay Bus” with a giant rainbow-haired transexual painted prominently upon the side, no doubt at considerable taxpayer expense.

My local public transport and gas utilities companies are not the only ones out there to be very visibly trafficking in sin these days, however. Just look at these pathetic “gay-friendly” pedestrian crossing lights from Vienna, first installed in 2015 to celebrate the annual glitter-filled gay-fest of Eurovision being hosted there:

Ironically, such amenities actually appear to contravene the terms of the 1968 Vienna Convention on Road Signs and Signals, which mandates crossing signs should show only simple “walking man” images so as to be immediately understandable even to very small children, but evidently actual public road safety is now of secondary importance compared with the far higher policy goal of encouraging shared acts of sodomy amongst the pedestrian populace.

Road crossing lights in London’s Trafalgar Square, meanwhile, were similarly altered to bear wholly needless gay, lesbian and transsexual gender-symbols like these shown below back in 2016. They were initially supposed to be just temporary features, introduced to celebrate Pride Month 2016; but, as per usual, once Pride Month had ended, the lights remained, just like the gays themselves always do.

Trafalgar trannies

In fact, this September Trafalgar Square has just been queered yet further into infinity by virtue of its empty plinth, originally intended to host a harmlessly heterosexual equestrian statue of William IV, suddenly having a new temporary “artwork“ foisted upon it, intended to honour the sacred memory of dead transgender “sex-workers” (or “prostitutes”, in old money). According to a write-up in The Times of London, A Thousand Times an Instant, by the Mexican agitprop ace Teresa Margolles, is “a composite memorial made up of plaster casts of the faces of 726 trans, non-binary and gender non-conforming people – 363 from Mexico, the same number again from London. It is a tribute to one of the artists’ friends in particular – Karla La Borrada, a transgender singer and former sex-worker [prostitute] who was murdered in Juarez, Mexico, in 2015 – and a beacon to draw attention to the rights of trans people worldwide. It takes its form from a tzompantli, a Mesoamerican skull rack used to display the remains of war captives or sacrifice victims.”

Still, at least they didn’t stick them all up on the side of my local bus this time, I suppose.

As a conservative, I find all this greatly annoying – which is, of course, the true point of it all, not to make minority groups feel “welcome”, as the advocates of such visual pollution claim, but to make all dissenters like me feel profoundly unwelcome when walking about the streets and quietly going about their everyday non-gay business. Such rainbow vandalism is a very visible and inescapable sign, like the swastika in Germany, or the hammer and sickle in Russia, of who really owns and runs our societies across the West now: i.e., anyone but us poor, marginalised normtards.

If I ran society, just for one single day of Anti-Red Terror, I’d like to see how the arrogantly overreaching Lefties liked it if traffic lights showed explicit images of late-stage aborted foetuses together with the commanding word “STOP!”, or buses carried large idealised images of heterosexual nuclear families on the side of them, female mother, male father, XY son and XX daughter … except, really, I wouldn’t actually like to do any of that at all, because I’m not such an ideological sadist. If I ever did manage to become a mayfly dictator, I’d just make traffic lights and buses resemble ordinary, non-politicised traffic lights and buses, like they always used to do in the West until about five minutes ago, that’s all. Is this really so much to ask?

Talking out of his aerosol

Another reputed artist who has recently been in the British newspapers for once again repeatedly defacing the public sphere is Banksy, a graffiti artist who is famous over here as a supposed “anti-establishment figure”, even though his best-known work slavishly reflects and reproduces the Left-wing values of the current woke Establishment ruling-caste, and sells for millions at auction, including to such noted penniless proles as Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Although he takes his nome de aérosol from his earlier “street tag” moniker of “Robin Banx”, it is believed the secretive spray-painter is in fact a former upper-middle-class public schoolboy named Robin Gunningham.

Most of Banksy’s political pieces express incredibly predictable stances upon such key Left-wing shibboleths as climate-change, Israel-Palestine, Brexit, and the purported ills of capitalism (except when said evil economic system involves selling overpriced wall-cartoons to rich idiots for overly fantastic sums). One of his most famous stencilled-in scribbles depicts two gay policemen kissing and touching helmets.

That kind of thing is generally portrayed by an admiring media as being “edgy”, but such classic student politics sentiments are actually as safe as safe could be, in the current prevailing moral climate. Kissing Coppers, the 2004 piece in question, appeared in Brighton, known as being the gay capital of the UK, not on the side of Finsbury Park Mosque.

Streets of Rage

Most recently, Banksy has been busily daubing harmless animal-related images all across London, transforming a telephone booth into an aquarium, or a roof-mounted satellite dish into a full moon being howled at by a wolf. I don’t really think these are genuine “art”, but they may reasonably provoke a smile amongst passing children or the mentally infirm. Local councils, businesses or householders afflicted with such doodles can often have them removed, brick by brick (occasionally by thieves) and then sell them on to galleries for thousands apiece, so they are probably quite happy about it all. He’s more than welcome to come and scrawl a marmoset on the front of my wheely bin, if I can then flog it to Bonham’s for £25,000.

However, alongside his harmless visual gags, Banksy also specialises in what are essentially very public pieces of political cartoonage, thereby transforming innocent items of public infrastructure like walls, fences and bridges into advertising billboards promoting not a consumer product, as is traditional, but his own personal set of adolescent political ideas and worldviews out towards the public at large – something that is often not even allowed to take place upon actual billboards within the UK, for risk of causing needless public offence.

In 2018, a feminist activist paid £700 to have a large billboard erected in the English city of Liverpool, providing the dictionary definition of the word “woman”, i.e. “adult human female”, in order to protest various transgender madnesses then ongoing. Following subsequent complaints that people who saw it could feel offended or (sigh) “unsafe”, the poster was taken down.

Whilst doubting an advert could really make someone feel “unsafe”, unless it happened to be for Murder Incorporated and featured a large image of their own screaming face with a rifle-sight directly superimposed over it, I agree with the authorities’ stance here, actually. Although I likewise 100 percent agree with the billboard’s actual content, I think the true space to advertise such admirable opinions upon is within speeches, books, op-eds, videos or lectures, not in gigantic letters emblazoned loudly upon random walls. That way, those members of the public who either disagree, or are simply not remotely interested, don’t have their day needlessly interfered with by inescapable public propaganda, like I recently did when confronted with a horrible weird Gay Bus. The problem is, it would appear that these same perfectly sensible standards of public decorum and discretion do not apply to all viewpoints equally.

The writing’s on the wall

Liverpool was also home to George Staunton, a then-78-year-old WWII veteran, who was arrested for painting the words “DON’T FORGET THE 1945 WAR” and “FREE SPEECH FOR ENGLAND” upon the wall of a derelict property prior to European elections in 1999; the building was due to be demolished, hence George not unreasonably did not think anyone would really mind. Indeed, the cost of repairing such “damage” was estimated at only £80; and who bothers repairing a soon-to-be knocked down wall anyway? The morons then in charge of running Liverpool, sadly.

For this exceedingly trivial misdemeanour, Staunton was charged with the offence of “racially aggravated criminal damage” under Section 30 of the newly-introduced Crime and Disorder Act 1998, facing a potential maximum penalty of 14 years imprisonment and an unlimited fine: there went George’s pension, although at least Her Majesty’s Prison Service would have been paying for all his meals and a roof over his head until he reached the ripe old age of 92. His graffiti was considered “racially aggravated”, you see, because it was thought to be anti-EU and thus pro-English. He was also a supporter of UKIP, later Nigel Farage’s party – and we all know what a dangerous crypto-fascist Nazi Nigel is supposed to be!

Thankfully, the overblown charges were later dropped, leaving poor George to see out his final days wondering just why he had bothered ever wasting his time fighting fascism in the first place. The real problem the authorities had with Mr. Staunton here was not truly that he was defacing public property with a political message, but that he was defacing it with the wrong political message. After all, Banksy has pumped out some far more prominent pro-EU graffiti, post-Brexit, but, as far as I am aware, has never faced any potential 14 years behind bars for doing so himself. Why not? Well, do I really have to spell it out to you in 10-foot high letters on the side of the nearest tall building here?