Top Ten Reasons to be Racist

I've had a think about it, and looked around, and I've concluded that the only sensible way forward is to become racist.


I haven't decided who I'm going to be racist to, yet. Is 'non-whites' enough to really qualify? Many of the racists I've seen tend to be really dedicated to hating specific groups, and I don't want to be seen as lazy. 'Blacks' seem to be a popular target. Is it OK to say 'blacks'? Oh, wait. I don't need to care anymore. This is going to be awesome.


Right. Top ten reasons why I've decided to be racist.




1.   Everyone's doing it


It's nice to be part of the 'in' crowd, and I almost never am. I only started watching Game of Thrones when everyone else was on season 4. I was all like "Hey guys! How evil is that Joffrey?" and they were all like "Ramsay Bolton's where it's at now, you loser!"


So I'd like to be part of this, while it's big, please. I'm assuming there are clubs and T-shirts and the like?

Joffrey. A racist. Probably.

2.    Language is hard


It's hard working out what to call people, isn't it? If there's a guy with different coloured skin in the office, and you want to bitch about him when he's not there, what do you say? Before I'd spend ages going,


"Oh, you know, the guy with glasses?"


And someone would say, "Steve?"


And I'd say, "No, you're Steve. The other guy. With the frizzy hair."


"Jane?"


"She's not a guy. Why are you so dim? Um..."


Because I'm trying not to be 'politically incorrect', you see. Trying not to say "The only Hindu guy in the whole room." It's like with the disabled. What the hell do you call them? One day handicapped is wrong, then it's fine, then Shirley from Recruitment says that 'disabled' is fine now and we mustn't say anything else. It's a minefield.


But now, right, I don't have to care. I can say what I like. Hurray!







3.    General angry feelings


I'm cross a surprising amount of the time. I'm not sure why. The other day I dropped a spoon, while I was trying to make a cup of tea. Well, it made me furious!


I picked the spoon up and spent the next ten minutes bending it backwards and forwards, trying to break it in half. It was surprisingly resilient. This, of course, made me madder. I called it a variety of names. Whore. Liar. Leftist. It would not break! I ended up in a terrible state and had to go kick the fridge which, of course, hurt my foot.


Now I'm racist, I can vent this kind of anger on the Asians (for example - I haven't quite made my mind up yet.) That'll be much more satisfying than attacking a spoon. I think. They'll cry, probably. So I won't have to.

Screw you, kid. It won't break.

4.   That Asian woman who lives across the road, but a few doors down.


I hate that woman! She's loud and she's nosey and she never smiles at me. Normally I'd just have to put up with it. I mean, I keep thinking I might have a go, but then I see her, and I can never think how to frame my attack. Do I start with "Hi, I'm your neighbour," and then move into shouting? It seems like a weird gear change. So I just walk past.


But now, brilliantly, I can be racist to her. There's loads of ways to start a conversation with an Asian woman when you're racist. Social convention doesn't really come into it. And it'll be sort of justified, because I didn't like her anyway. So it's like a win win.

It's political correctness gone mad.

5. Economic anxiety


No, just kidding. I'm fine. I'm comfortably off. Which is good, because I can't really work out the connection anyway.




6.   The Daily Mail


I've been trying to read the Guardian for years, but I sort of... can't. My mind just kind of slides off it. Simply put, they write too much. You might think "Oh, this is quite a good article," but after a bit you realise that it just goes on and on. "Let's look at this point of view."  "Let's consider these facts."  "Here's a massive load of stuff about historical context." After a bit you sort of forget what you're even meant to think about the situation.


No-one has time for this. The Daily Mail, on the other hand, gets straight to the point and tells you exactly what to think. And it's very satisfying. You get to be annoyed, a lot, but at groups of people. Not at spoons and that. This is much better. They have very clearly defined targets, and many of them seem ugly too, so that's helps my self image no end.

7.   It has to be someone's fault, right?


The world is terrible, you have to admit that. Education, health, the transport network. All that. Terrible. It takes me ages to get to work, and apparently all the kids now are thick.  But who to blame? Everything is someone's fault. If no-one was to blame, it wouldn't be happening. That's just maths.


Now that I'm a racist, I can locate the problem much more easily. Eastern Europeans. Probably. By drawing a direct line between them coming here and things getting worse, I can start to make sense of why it's worse, and do something about it.


And I mean an actual line. I've drawn an actual line. Right across the wall in my bedroom, from a collage of headline clippings from the Mail over to the bedroom window. Because they're outside, aren't they? The Easter Europeans? Outside, in our streets.


God, it feels nice to say "Our streets."




8.   I have a weird, instinctive mistrust of difference.


I used to feel bad about not being able to tell people of colour apart on the telly. Like, there'd be a black actor in something, and then, later, maybe a different one. But it might have been the same one. And I wasn't sure if it was different, or if I was just accidentally racist.


I used to console myself that I can't tell Albert Finney and Brian Cox apart either. But now it doesn't matter. Now I can just relax and say "They are all the same!" and laugh. And then get cross because there are too many of them on television in the first place. If there was only one at a time, there'd be no confusion. So who's causing the problem, really?

Samuel L. Jackson? The Fresh Prince of Bel Air?

9.   I'm oppressed, probably.


If people like me stop being racist, then what's to stop the continued oppression of white men? The signs are everywhere. Black History Month. Black Lives Matter. Black Friday. It's getting so that my culture is basically about to disappear.




10. I can stop saying "I'm not racist, but..."


Who else is tired of this? Having to prefix every little racist thing with this tiresome phrase. It's tedious, and I'm sick of it. Why are we even saying it? No-one really seems to believe it, so it's not like it has the desired effect. How liberating would it be to just stand up and go "You know what, I am racist. And that's why I'm saying these exciting things!"




So stand up with me, brothers. Stop living your false lives. Shake off the shackles of society. Stop living by these politically correct terms. We're not nationalists, or patriots, or Alt-Right, or any of those names we're forced to hide behind. We shouldn't cower behind made up arguments about economics or genetics or religion. We should be racists, out and proud. We just don't like them. There's no reason for it. It's just who we are.


Why would we do any different? Who on earth would we be fooling?