Category: Satire

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Seven

The Long March

Charlie had got his two Reptile Club shots when he was nine years old. Aged fourteen he collapsed during a PE class and had to have his lower right leg removed due to a blood clot.   

There were thousands of kids like Charlie across Peopleland who had had their lives and families destroyed by the Reptile Club injection & the regime mandates. His parents had both died of turbo cancer less than a year later.

Now aged sixteen Charlie lived with his grandfather in a small apartment on the 19th floor an oppressive concrete tower block owned by a CCP fentanyl kingpin. Charlie’s Grandfather had bought him his lottery ticket as an act of love more than anything else; neither of them really believed they had any chance of winning.

On Saturday evening Charlie sat with his grandfather huddled in front of the television watching the live draw unfold. As the numbers of the winning ticket were announced, Charlie followed each on the ticket he’d kept carefully folded in a pocket, expecting at any moment that they would stop matching the ones he saw laid out before him. As the fifth & sixth numbers were read out, he suddenly became disconnected from what was happening.

‘Grandad… Grandad… We’ve won… We’ve won!’

‘Let me see son’

Together they carefully confirmed the numbers as they were repeated and then stood staring at each other in disbelief.

‘You’ve won Charlie! You’ve won the Execution lottery!’ His grandfather cried. ‘You must call them immediately.’

The execution of Gaston was to be carried out in the capital in two week’s time. Charlie didn’t have the money to travel to the capital, but he did have his father’s old rifle – a bolt-action 22LR; one of only a handful that Gaston had not banned.

Charlie called the lottery company and informed them that he was the winner, but that he did not have the money to travel from the coast to the capital. However, he told them – if they were willing to wait, he was willing to walk all the way there. He pondered the practicalities of executing a man with a bolt action 22 with the appreciation that it might take Gaston a while to die with such a weapon, but after some consideration concluded that this might also be fitting.

King Donny heard about this young man who had been injured by the Reptile Club injections; whose parents had also lost their jobs during Gaston’s mandates, and who was willing to walk with a prosthetic leg all the way across the country carrying his father’s rifle in order to carry out the order of the court, and immediately offered to drive him all the way in a gold plated Cybertruck.

Charlie politely declined the offer, ‘No, it’s O.K. Sir, I’d rather walk; It’ll give me time to think.’

‘You take as long as you need Charlie.’ King Donny told him.

The new government free media picked up on this story and started reporting on what was promising to be an epic solo journey across the country by a disabled boy with a mission.

Walking on his prosthetic leg, and with his father’s bolt action 22LR rifle slug over his shoulder, Charlie set off for the capital and his date with destiny. In the capital awaited Gaston the Incredible – convicted of treason, mass murder and embezzlement, sat in prison awaiting Charlie’s arrival and the fulfillment of the sentence upon him.

Crowds of women young and old lined the highway throwing flowers at his feet as the boy limped along the national highway. Camera crews on motorbikes and hanging out off back of trucks crept along beside as if he was the Yellow Vest leader working his way purposefully up a step incline.

People emerged from the same villages that had run Gaston & Bollywood out town during his Grand Tour, to offer bottles of water and to cheer the nation’s new hero on. Old women reached out to try and touch or kiss the old battered rifle that would dispatch the tyrant Gaston, whilst throngs of people emerged along the way to join Charlie’s long march to the capital’s main square – the very same square in which Gaston’s Royal Police of Infinite Justice had crushed the people of Peopleland when they dared to stand up to him.  

As the growing convoy made its way across the country through sun, rain and storm, King Donny & Tony Tesla made preparations in the capital.

Along with the Gaston regime, King Donny had decided that the entire Royal state apparatus – Royal state media, Royal Police of Infinite Justice, and all the corrupt judges who allowed Gaston to stay in power should not escape punishment.

He announced that, seeing as they had facilitated all the societal ills the Gaston regime had been responsible for, they would all be exiled to an experimental island which was to be co-managed by the religion of perpetual violence and the people who did not know if they were a girl or a boy cult.

King Donny held a press conference and declared:

“These institutions failed to protect those they were entrusted to serve, and today we are going to set that right. Gaston told the people that the religion of perpetual violence and the people who don’t know if they are a girl or a boy would live harmoniously simple because they love him. Well, from today those that failed in their duty to protect the people from tyranny will be sent to a Trans-Islamic penal colony on a remote island for the rest of their lives.. We’re gonna check in with them in five years and see how it’s all going. Let this be a lesson to everyone: not all new ideas are good, some are just bad. ”

As Charlie and his convoy of supporters entered the capital, Gaston heard the cheers of the crowd and truck horns approaching through the bars of his window.

The guards informed him that the executioner was only sixteen, and was going to use one of the few firearms he had not ban for his execution; and that subsequently it might take him some time to die. Gaston suddenly regretted banning everything that would have killed him quickly, and longed for the days when a condemned man could pay the executioner the night before to ensure his blade was razor sharp, or in this case set the fire selector to fully auto.

That night both Charlie and Gaston prepared themselves for the big day in their own ways. Charlie watched YouTube videos of ‘how to kill a man with a single shot 22LR’, whilst Gaston and his government enjoyed their final meal courtesy of the taxpayer, the cost of which came in at just under $117,000. Later that evening Gaston requested a Trans-Islamic preacher, but one couldn’t be found, so he had to settle for a Trans person pretending to be a hate preacher. 

The next morning whilst it was still dark, Gaston rose put on his regimental blackface and laid out his costume for this final engagement. After going through the dressing up box many times, and deliberating over his options, he finally settled on his iconic Arabian Nights costume, the photos of which had started the blackface scandal in the first place.      

At dawn Gaston was led out into the main square in full regimental blackface and dressed in his white Arabian Night costume complete with a large bejewelled turban which caught the early morning sunlight giving it an iridescent sparkle. The bronze statue of Gaston on Gay Day, the stroller containing a child and the two drag queens still sat in the corner of the square piled up on top of each other like oversized fallen toy figurines.

Thousands of people had been camped out all night in the hope of securing a good spot. The mood of the crowd was one of well orderly anticipation, however, as soon as they caught glimpse of Gaston they erupted into chants of ‘Fuck Gaston! Fuck Gaston!’ They fell silent though when Judge Car Key emerged onto the square to address the crowds and ordered the regime to be brought out one by one as their names and charges were read out:

‘Y’all have been very bad, and now bad thing are going to befall y’all… Announced Car Key.

Gaston was to be the first to face Charlie and his battered old rifle.

‘Gaston the Incredible… you have been found guilty of treason, mass murder & embezzlement, and have been sentenced to death by firing squad. Bring his ass over here.’

Gaston was escorted to a post in the middle of the square and hands tied behind him to it. He was then asked if he had anything to say before the sentence was carried out and declared proudly ‘Happy Pride to Allah!’, which had been his cry to the crowds at the very first Gay Day in the capital. Immediately after which Judge Car Key dropped his arm as the signal for Charlie to fire.

Charlie was accompanied by his grandfather, who was acting as his spotter. He dropped down to one knee, adjusted his posture, and for what seemed like an awfully long time there was nothing- no sound. Then there was a sudden crack that reverberated around the square as Charlie fired his first shot into Gaston, who in turn did not appear to respond. Many in the crowd then turned to each other to confirm: ‘Yeah, they’re using 22’s.’

Sensing that this could be a drawn out affair, Charlie quickly worked the bolt action and chambered another round. ‘Crack!’ This time Gaston winced a little and then enquired if there was not a semi-automatic setting. ‘Sorry’ apologized Charlie… ‘You banned all them. This is all we have.’

‘Crack!’ Another shot rang out. This time Gaston whimpered and slumped somewhat; his sparkling turban tumbling from his head and black face taking on a grotesque almost sauced expression. ‘Crack!’ A fourth shot more quickly delivered this time caused Gaston to issue a gurgling sound as he finally slumped lifeless on the pole. The crowd erupted into cheers and gaggles of old women, who had been sat knitting, rushed forward to dip their hankerchiefs in Gaston’s blood. King Donny declared Gaston the Incredible dead, but had Tony Tesla run him over in a Cybertruck just to make sure.

One by one, each of the Gaston government were brought out to face the same fate: the minister who’s grandfather had accidentally been a Nazi; the ministers who had accidentally applauded a Nazi in the palace, and all the other ministers who had sent billion of dollars to the Nazis who operated the laundromat in Khazaria.    

It was a long day. Charlie’s got tired a few times and they had to send for more ammunition at least once, but by dust the task was complete and all the sentences had been carried out. Later that evening Tony Tesla’s rocket set off for Mars with Barry Bollywood and the entire Diet Soviet Party chained to the outside.

King Donny the Tremendous announced a new holiday to commemorate the end of the Gaston regime and Transportation of Barry Bollywood and his Diet Soviet Party to Mars, by declaring that going forward Nov 5th would be known as Rifle & Rocket Day – a day for families to get together and celebrate by building large community bonfires atopped with Turbaned figures tied to rockets, and shooting at black-faced effigies with BB guns to the the cry of ‘Happy Pride to Allah!’

Now Peopleland was a proper country, and the people of Peopleland finally had something to be proud of.

The End

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Six

A Trial of Two Turbans

Whilst the hunt for Barry Bollywood and his Bolshevik bandidas continued, plans for the trial of Gaston and the regime members already in custody continued.

In order to ensure ‘stakeholder engagement’ King Donny appointed a rapper called Car-Key who had lost his entire running shoe empire to the Reptile Club; he was considered such a deft exponent of pattern recognition and was so highly observant, that he noticed things that you weren’t even supposed to notice.

The charges against Gaston the Incredible and his regime were treason, embezzlement of government funds, and accessory to mass murder through the coercive enforcement of the Reptile Club injection program against the people of Peopleland.

Judge Car-Key made it clear that Gaston & his regime were in ‘very serious trouble y’all’, and because of the nature and severity of the charges, if convicted, that they were looking at the death penalty.

Tony Tesla’s 19yr old autistic intelligence officers were still having trouble tracking down Barry Bollywood and his army of Disney cast extremists in the densely enriched urban areas of Peopleland, until they came up with the idea of a Where’s Waldo app. It was a quite simple fix in the end: load in the faces of the Bollywood’s Diet Soviet Party into the app, then fly a drone over Brampton or Surrey picking them all out one by one.

By the end of the month Tony Tesla had captured almost every Diet-Soviet Party operative at large.

At trial, they made for a rich spectacle all packed into their respective caged section of the court – a blinged out Barry Bollywood in a saffron turban wearing a $45,000 watch made from the crystalized tears of poor children, surrounded by his army of diminutive Bolshevik harlots in one cage; and the equally rich visual feast of Gaston the Incredible in full regimental black face dressed as a pantomime Saladin complete with oversized bejewelled white turban, surrounded by his motley crew of career criminals pacing the cage like a pride of traumatized circus lions in the other.

The press gallery who turned up daily to cover proceedings never knew what they were going to get – each day Gaston would turn up in a different costume – one day he was Saladin; the next Superman; Thursday he’d turn up dressed like he was on his way to Gay Day, on Fridays he was D’Artagnon from the Three Musketeers, but always in full regimental Blackface.

Barry Bollywood and his party were charged as accessories to treason & embezzlement, with a specific charge of ‘stealing from the poor’. However, he had to have the charges repeated after thinking embezzlement was part of an expensive watch.

Bollywood repeatedly interrupted proceedings offering to cut a deal, but then failed to do so. The judge eventually got tired of this and threatened to take a Maserati from him every time he interrupted, whilst his raft of diet-Soviet medusas hissed ‘white supremacy’ through the bars

During the trial it was revealed that Gaston had owned the company that provided the bottles and labels for the bad medicine he forced everyone to take. He claimed that he never forced anyone to take the medicine and that everyone did so by choice, but a conveyor belt of video evidence was shown to the jury featuring Gaston applying all the power his government could generate to force people into taking the Reptile Club injection.

Gaston then claimed that the bad medicine was given to him by an old man who might have worked for the Nazis, and that he only provided the lipid nanoparticle technology to impress senior members of the Reptile Club. Then he blamed it all on his Minister for Supreme Goodness – who’s grandfather had accidentally also been a Nazi, and then his Supreme Justice minister, who accidentally applauded a Nazi at the palace.

The repeated connection to Nazis didn’t help.

On the final day of the trial, Gaston turned up for sentencing dressed as an Apache Chief complete with headdress and full faced regimental blackface.

The jury retired and returned just 20 minutes later with their verdict, which was then read out by the foreman to the court. On the charge of treason how do you find? ‘Guilty’. On the charge of embezzlement of public funds how do you find? ‘Guilty’. On the charge of accessory to mass murder how do you find? ‘Guilty’.

Upon the news Gaston threw himself to the floor and pleaded with the court for mercy, citing his many years of charitable work in the circus. He also claimed that he’d been blackmailed into doing everything he had done after being lured to a tropical island to meet some 14 yr olds.

In his deliberation, Car-Key described Gaston and his regime as one of the most egregious of all Globalist tyrannies of the pre collapse era, and that Gaston’s profiteering left him in no doubt as to his criminal involvement in the mass murder and maiming of millions of citizens; and because of the scale of this crime, he was left with no alternative than to apply the severest punishment available.

Judge Car-Key laid upon his wig the black cloth before sentencing Gaston and his entire regime to death with the words: ‘I hereby sentence you to death Y’all’

Gaston was taken down with the rest of his former cabinet; his blackface make-up running onto his bead tunic and moccasins. The only thing that remained – a  native headdress lying forlornly on the dock floor in a puddle of Blackface juice – a  mixture of tyrant’s tears and boot polish.

After being found guilty as accessories to treason, embezzlement and ‘stealing from the poor’, Barry Bollywood and his diet-Soviet raft of Medusas were sentenced to Transportation to a colony.

In the 17th Century when the sentence was introduced, this would have meant exile to one of the new colonies like Australia or Jamaica, but seeing as Tony Tesla was now running regular flights to Mars, the sentence was that they should be chained to a rocket bound for the Red Planet.

In the period post sentencing, as Gaston and his regime awaited their fate, intense speculation began to circulate as to the nature of his execution and whether the public would continue to be consulted.

Unlike the run up to the execution of Charles I of England in 1649, during which Parliamentary forces could not find anyone who was willing to execute a King of England, and had to resort to scouring the taverns of the South Bank for a willing drunk the night before, there was no such problem finding a citizen of the new national republic willing to carry out the sentence on Gaston the Incredible.

The court received literally tens of thousands of letters, some written by children in crayon, whose parents or grandparents had been killed or injured by the Reptile Club injection, or who they themselves had been maimed, pleading that they be chosen to execute Gaston; some were willing to do it with their bare hands, others had elaborate plans prepared. 

King Donny had already decided on the method – death by firing squad. Tony Tesla proposed importing a 30mm Soviet anti-aircraft gun from North Korea for the occasion and doing them all in one go as an act of government efficiency. He also suggested that the bullets should be made by melting down the bronze statue of Gaston and the drag queens on Gay Day, but this was deemed too poetically rich for the simple folk of Peopleland, and a regime restricted five round capacity rifle was opted for instead.

Gaston had banned all firearms except the bolt-action 22LR, which was considered inadequate for resistance to his rule, and so it seemed more than fitting that this should be chosen as the execution weapon.

Such was the intensity of interest in being part of the justice process, that authorities decided to hold a lottery to decide who would get to carry out the order of the court. Millions of tickets were sold in the first week alone, as the old and the young alike emptied their penny jars and scraped together what they could in order to have the best chance of being the one who put the full stop at the end of Gaston’s story.

The lottery was held the following Saturday and televised live across the nation – streets lay empty & children stopped playing as the people of Peopleland held their breath.

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Five

The Devil Collects

Gaston’s inability to step down from power gracefully cost his both his dynasty and his country dearly. His attempts to hide from his ministers had demonstrated that he was willing to sacrifice anything and anyone in order to cling to power, even if it was just for a few moments longer. During his last few days, he even tried to start a war with King Donny in order to stay in power, but there was no escaping his fate – the devil was collecting on his Faustian deal.

Gaston was found a nice quiet desk job by his handlers at the Reptile Club, in a corner office at the U.N. where he spent the next two years shredding Pedo Island flight logs. In the meantime, Peopeland crowned a new slightly edgy beige emperor who promised to return the country to an era of common sense.

Emperor Peter the Fairly Good, as he became known, attempted to repair the destruction the Gaston reign had wrought on the country and avoid being consumed by King Donny’s new Empire of Awesomeness, but global events eclipsed his efforts in 2026 when, after decades of wobbling, the entire global financial system finally collapsed.

It turned out that it wasn’t just Gaston who had printed and spent too much money – every emperor of every country had been doing the same thing. The Reptile Club had attempted to control the inevitable by imposing a ‘Great Reset’ – a new economic system that would ensure that the collapse would happen on their terms with the enslavement of all of humanity under a centralized system, but this had ultimately failed and now an uncontrolled collapse had befallen the entire planet.

At first there was chaos. The banks collapsed; no one could get any money. What cash there was in circulation became worthless as soon as everyone realized that they were not going ‘back to normal’ this time.

With the collapse the societal and political order was turned upside down. Things that had been important or valuable suddenly became unimportant and worthless, and the things that people had taken for granted, all of a sudden became priceless.

People cast off the indulgencies of the Gaston years as quickly as a defeated soldier casts off his uniform. Men & women re-established their traditional roles based on mutual needs, and despite the hardships, people started living more fulfilled and simple lives.

It turned out that all anyone needed to do to end the decades long insanity of Inclusive diversity was turn the electricity off, and…Poof! It all disappeared in a moment like a one of Gaston’s tricks.

The central pillars of control for the Reptile Club had been the armies of woke women, and the fringe minority groups that were established to undermine the pre-enlightenment society of diverse inclusivity. For years under Gaston these minority fringe groups enjoyed nobility status; they were empowered and indulged; feted in the press, and employed to force Gaston’s political enemies into acts of public humiliation. However, there was little use for them in a post collapse world.

Without community or skills, these groups starved to death waiting for the government to come and save them, or became food for migrants in the sanctuary cities they shared. Whilst those grass roots communities that had established themselves during the Bad Medicine years – militias, church communities & online ‘hate’ groups etc. now provided the best avenue for survival.

However, the global financial collapse also offered King Donny the Tremendous the opportunity to achieve his imperial desire to consume the already weakened Peopleland and turn it into an energy theme park called 51st State.

King Donny’s tanks rolled into the main square and pulled down the statue of Gaston letting go of the stroller as he rushed to embrace the drag queens on Gay Day. His soldiers shouted ‘fuck yeah’ and chugged tiny cans of piss in celebration. King Donny told the people of Peopleland that the tiny cans of piss his troops drank were the biggest and best anyone had ever seen, and that they were there to liberate the people from their feudal servitude to the Reptile Club.

The people of Peopleland didn’t know what to think – they had never had a leader like King Donny the Tremendous – who was equal part genius and idiot – all they had ever known was boring and mega-idiot.

After establishing stability in Peopleland, King Donny’s first order of business was to locate all members of the Gaston & Bollywood regime.

Gaston and his ministers had all gone into hiding, mainly to secluded cottages surrounding the capital where they hoped to remain undetected whilst they lived out the rest of their sordid lives quietly engaged in Reptile Club pastimes like hosting Diddy parties and dressing up as forest animals whilst holding babies.

Bollywood & his ministers first tried hiding in a Maserati showroom, but were asked to leave when it became obvious they weren’t serious about buying anything. So they went to ground in Brampton & Surrey where they wouldn’t be seen.

Meanwhile King Donny’s 19 yr old autistic investigators started uncovering evidence of fraud on a massive scale and misuse of public money. It turned out that Peopleland had been a rich country, but the Gaston and Bollywood had siphoned off large amounts and spent the rest of it on trannies and Fentanyl.

King Donny promised that Gaston the Incredible, Barry Bollywood, and every member of their regime would be caught and brought to justice.

Gaston’s Minister of Supreme Justice, Mario Mentida was arrested the week after whilst ‘popping into town’ to trawl for teenage boys. And then a few weeks later, his former Minister of Supreme Goodness – the one whose father had accidentally been a Nazi – was caught when her uncontrollable public twitching gave her away during a visit to a petting zoo.    

Each capture was announced to great excitement by the public, but for some time the big prize of Gaston the Incredible still eluded them. King Donny promised that Gaston would be caught, and a few weeks later on Tremendous Day – formerly known as Gay Day, Gaston was finally captured hiding in a storm drain near a former safe injection site still wearing his trademark black face, after his bodyguard had abandoned him and disclosed his location to one of Tony Tesla’s 19 yr old autistic intelligence officers.

The damage the Gaston regime had caused was inter-generational, as was now the appetite for reckoning. King Donny the Tremendous announced that trials for all members of the Gaston regime would take place on un-ceded empty Chinese condo territory in Downtown Vancouver, which seemed only fitting given that was where the majority of the fentanyl money had been laundered.

Despite Barry Bollywood and his diet-Soviet grifters still being at large in the urban foliage of culturally enriched cities, King Donny set the trial date for the 29th September – Truth & Reconciliation Day as it had been known, but then announced that the name would be changed to Surf’s Up Day in memory of how Gaston traditionally spent the national holiday he introduced.

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Four

A War in Pantoland

After the election Gaston and Barry Bollywood took their bromance to the next level. They went everywhere and did everything together. Gaston still hadn’t delivered the free toothbrushes he had promised, but Bollywood was sure he’d just forgotten.

During the bad medicine years Gaston had printed hundreds of billions of dollars to fund various ideological indulgences, and Barry Bollywood’s Diet Soviet Party had rubber stamped all of them in return for being allowed to pretend that he was also emperor.

Gaston had awarded his friends the contract to manufacture the lollipops given to children after their government injections. The original cost for this project was estimated at $230 million, but after a year the cost had ballooned to $1.7 billion, and they still hadn’t decided on any flavours. It was the same story repeated across every Royal government department, and the amount of money being spent by the emperor was now larger than anything the people of Peopleland had ever seen before.

Gaston and his Laurentian nobility were getting very rich. However, all of this money printing had caused a strange new phenomenon that neither Gaston nor Barry Bollywood had ever encountered before, called ‘Inflation’. The price of everything had started rising and neither of them could explain why.

Some elder advisors tried to explain that expanding the money supply had led to this thing called Inflation, but Gaston would hear none of it. He argued that because the things he did with the money were good, nothing bad could happen and so he had them thrown in jail as heretics.

However, the higher food prices rose, the louder the people complained; and the worse the suffering got, the more it looked like there was something wrong with Gaston’s magic. 

Gaston & Bollywood decided to take a tour of the country together to see what all the fuss was about. They rode on horseback through every town & village in the land accompanied by a caravan of circus performers to reassure the people of Gaston’s goodness.

The Official Circus Caravan for the 2023 Imperial National Tour

Gaston’s horse wasn’t actually a real horse, but a pantomime horse called Sophie played by two people who identified as horses. In Gaston’s new inclusively diverse Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland this was the same as a real horse, and saying otherwise would land you in prison with the people who believed in inflation.

Bollywood rode a golden horse called Rolex, which he was very proud of. It wasn’t really a golden horse; it was a pony that had been spray painted gold, but no one dared say anything. Royal state media pretended that both horses were real, and even suggested that both should be made Senators in the upcoming reshuffle.  

Every village they entered the people would emerge from their homes to hurl rotten vegetables and shout obscenities at Gaston & Bollywood. After one particularly awful reception, Bollywood announced that he had an idea.

 ‘I know’ He said… ‘Let’s blame the rising prices on the merchants in the market who sell the food. We can tell the people that it is their greed that is causing prices to rise.’ ‘Awesome idea!’ declared Gaston.

So with the help of the Royal state media, they declared that the rising costs were the fault of greedy merchants, not government spending at all. They hauled the merchants into the main square and held a humiliating public trial during which they were asked to explain why prices had risen. Of course, it was Gaston & Barry Bollywood who were robbing the people through money printing, but for some reason the majority of people were not able to understand this.

Meanwhile their neighbours to the south – the ones they’d chastised when they had elected Gaston as Emperor, had crowned a new king: King Donny the Tremendous.

King Donny had been king before, but had been exiled by the evil nobility of his country after a coup backed by the Reptile Club. Now, with the support of the people, he was back and he meant business.

Unlike Gaston, King Donny was no slight-of-hand magician borrowing from tomorrow to create illusions today – he could do real magic. He could create wealth just by breathing on markets; stop wars by simply talking, and bring down foreign governments just by staring at them. It also was rumoured that King Donny’s urine was 84% Ivermectine, and had been used to cure Trans kids.

The nobility who made money from wars and misery had tried to kill him many times, but failed. In short, King Donny was a proper king who had been tested by fire, and he certainly had no time for Gaston’s fart lighting tricks or fake magic.

King Donny surrounded himself with warriors and innovators. His chief minister was a Marvel scientist called Tony Tesla who had invented everything from crazy string to interplanetary timeshares.

King Donny & Tony Tesla set about bringing the now unpopular and weak rule of Gaston to a humane end for the sake of the suffering people of Peopleland. King Donny dedicated seven minutes a day staring at Gaston’s Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland silently mouthing the words ‘51st State’, whilst Tony Tesla pulled back the media curtain on the madness and cruelty of Gaston’s hermit kingdom for all the world to see.

The world was shocked at the perverse failure Peopleland had become under Gaston’s ten year reign. Peopleland should have been a rich country, but it had been materially and socially collapsed for the sake of Gaston’s utopian ideals, and now everyone could see it. Peopleland was broken, but instead of trying to fix it, Gaston now offered state assisted suicide to anyone who was unhappy or poor.

Barry Bollywood and members of the Gaston regime began to sense that the supreme leader was becoming a liability. He was now hated so much both inside and outside the country, that being associated with him was harmful. They tried to suggest that Gaston had achieved so many wonderful things that it might be time for him to consider ending his reign, but Gaston would hear none of it – there was still much work to do; he still hadn’t managed to fully impoverish the people, and there were still political enemies to destroy.

In an act of self-preservation, Barry Bollywood declared that he would no longer support the Gaston as leader, but true to his cynical nature, when offered the opportunity to remove him as emperor, declined to do so.

Eventually it was left to Gaston’s Royal ministers to replace him with a new Emperor, but when informed of this decision, he refused to attend meetings with them and instead began hiding in various rooms of the palace in an attempt to evade both them and his fate. Finally, after four days of upstairs-downstairs Benny Hill capers, they found him in the Royal wardrobe hiding in the dressing up box covered in boot polish, and softly sobbing his childhood favourite, Al Jolson’s ‘Mammy.’

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Three

The Bad Medicine Years

Early in the New Year it was announced that someone in China had accidentally spilt some CIA monkey juice on the floor of a bioweapons lab run by Dr Faustus. Royal state media reported that it had escaped and started to spread amongst the population.

This was the opportunity the Reptile Club and their young leaders had been waiting for – Gaston continued to allow in flights from China for another week, and then, once the infection had spread sufficiently to warrant an emergency response, he immediately closed the country down.

Unfortunately most people in Peopleland still trusted the government. They had grown up under the benevolent reign of Brian the Boring, and naively believed that the emperor still had their best interests at heart. They were unaware that the contract had been rewritten and that the Reptile Club was now in charge.

Gaston rushed to unite the people behind him by removing all of their rights in the name of safety. The people were told that they were ‘All in this together’ and were encouraged by state media to bang pots at 7pm in support of medical staff busy making Tik-Tok videos.

His government introduced Leninist slogans such as ‘Doing the right thing’ & ‘Being there for one another’. They became rallying cries for Gaston and his ministers, who would recite these spells during public announcements; encouraging everyone to come together under the flag of safety through total obedience to Gaston. He declared Peopleland the safest country on earth, and that no faithful citizen would ever die of anything ever again if they simply ‘did the right thing’.

Anyone who opposed the measures, or questioned the authenticity of the threat was labeled an ‘Enemy of Goodness’, and Gaston openly questioned whether they should continue to ‘tolerate such people’.

By now, the people of Peopleland had become divided into two groups – the loyalists who were still hypnotized by Gaston’s policy magic and transfixed by the fear his Royal state media conjured up, and the rebels who now saw through his illusion, and feared for the future in what was now fast becoming a cruel and despotic reign.

After a winter of lockdowns and a conveyor belt of media manufactured fear, Gaston announced to the people that a new magic medicine was coming that would enable them to have their freedom back. He told the people all they had to do was get the government injection and they could ‘go back to normal’.

Anyone who asked what was in the injection was labeled a ‘Science Denier’, and accused of attempting to ‘kill Grandma’.

Gaston said that the injection contained only goodness and no badness. And although the people who made the injection had only ever tested it on animals – all of which had died by the way – and wouldn’t say what was in it, Gaston granted them Royal immunity from responsibility if anything went wrong. He declared the medicine ‘safe & effective’.

Gaston said that getting the medicine was a choice, but a week later declared that anyone who didn’t get it couldn’t ‘go back to normal’. He announced that anyone who did not volunteer to take the injection of unknown goodness would lose their jobs and not be able to travel. He even decreed that children who did not choose to get the injection would be cast out of society.

Gaston issued passes to those who decided to ‘do the right thing’. They were declared clean and could ‘go back to normal’, but those who still refused were branded unclean and outcasts.    

Some people were really enjoying this. The bad medicine years and Gaston’s public acts of cruelty brought out the worst in some of the citizens of the new and diversely inclusive Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland. Those who were firmly latched onto the teet of Royal state media behaved the worst. This section of society started to become fanatically obsessed with safety and compliance, to the point where they viewed non-compliance to be a crime worthy of imprisonment and even death.

‘Why should we tolerate those who refuse ‘to do the right thing’’? ‘Let them die!’ They shouted from the comment sections of Royal state media, which also dutifully deleted any comments that questioned the medicine mandates.

On one occasion, Gaston boasted to his ministers that his loyal followers would be willing throw unvaccinated children into ovens if the Royal state media told them to do it. Such people lined up to get their children the injections completely unaware that this was a Reptile Club initiative.

At the same time, the people who had started to see through Gaston’s grand illusion began to organize and protest against the medicine mandates. Gaston started to sense that time was running out. So despite everything being closed down, Gaston decided that this would be the best time to call a snap election in the hope of gaining a majority; then he could commit some real tyranny on those who opposed goodness.

In the election, Gaston narrowly secured another even smaller minority government. He hated the idea that the people would say no to him. He extended his medicine mandates to include people who delivered food for a living – Uber Munch, Delivery-O & Skip the Liberty, and declared that their drivers would need to get the medicine if they wanted to feed the people trapped at home.

This time the people had had enough. They had become completely reliant on home delivery during the lockdowns, and had forgotten how to feed themselves. They organized and gathered together under Gaston’s Imperial balcony and booed him when he appeared that Sunday to address the nation. Gaston declared them all ‘Racists’ & ‘White Supremacists’ and vowed that he would take everything away from them.

The next morning he told the Police of Infinite Justice and Goodness to create a threat that would allow Gaston to impose martial law. Then he got Royal state media to declare that there were people who wanted to hurt his government and that he would need to use special powers to deal with them. These powers were usually saved for war, but as far as Gaston was concerned this was WAR.

The Police of Infinite Justice and Goodness took four men from one of the protests and accused them of being revolutionaries. Gaston threw them in jail and declared martial law. He also announced that anyone who dared to protest against him would be crushed by his Royal cavalry.

After weeks of protest in the main square under the very balcony that Gaston waved from each Sunday, thousands of protesters, including many elderly and children, stood peacefully in the snow reciting prayers as Gaston’s Infinite Justice and Goodness moved in and began beating them to the ground with clubs and trampling them under horses. The fresh blood of the good people of Peopleland decorated the snow as his police officers took to social media to boast of their brutality and how the overtime was paying for their swimming pools.

Gaston had finally become a real dictator, just like his real father. Now he had supreme power and the people were terrified. He sat back to savour this moment… He loved the feeling of crushing the people and could now see why his real father had enjoyed it so much.

Gaston vowed to destroy all those who dared stand against him. He announced that his government would seize all their property, including their children, and freeze the bank accounts of all those involved. His deputy minister – the one whose grandfather had accidentally been a Nazi – announced that anyone who donated more than $25 to the protests would also be cut off from their money, rendering them unable to support or feed themselves or their family.

However, Gaston did not consider the effects his actions might have on Peopleland, or that international investors might become nervous and start pulling their money out of the Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland, concerned that it might also be confiscation by the Gaston regime.

Gaston didn’t know it yet, but he had just overstepped the mark. In just five days the Royal Bank of Peopleland lost $8 billion as nervous international investors did exactly that, whilst the people of Peopleland also started pulling their money out of the banks in protest.

The Reptile Club who ran the banks immediately called Gaston and instructed him to cancel martial law, concerned that the bank run in Peopleland could spread to other Reptile Club nations and cause their entire financial empire to collapse.

The next day, Gaston was forced by his reptilian overlords to cancel martial law and reassure everyone that their money was safe in Peopleland. This put an end to the financial losses, but in brutally suppressing the protests against him, Gaston had revealed himself as a petulant and vengeful boy king who was willing to destroy anyone who dared to say ‘No’.

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part One

The People of Peopleland

For generations the people of Peopleland had been happy in their beautiful country. It was a peaceful country – crime was low, the standard of living was high, and they had everything they needed – lots of water, land and resources.

The people of Peopleland were sensible, very sensible and a little bit boring. They liked to keep themselves to themselves, but would be the first to help others if they were in need. Peopleland was a good country, everyone liked them and their societal model was the envy of every other nation.

The problem was that people of Peopleland had a deep-seated insecurity about their identity; they worried a lot about what other people thought of them. Their international reputation was the most important thing to them; they guarded it night and day and celebrated it at every opportunity, but this insecurity was about to get them into a lot of trouble.

They were ruled over by a grey man called Brian, ‘Brian the Boring’ as he was known, who came from a long line of leaders, all called Brian and all very boring. Brian was as sensible and boring as his name suggests – he had weepy eyes, grey Playmobile hair and dressed like a suburban realtor, but he was sensible with money and made sure Peopleland remained safe and stable.  

During the reign of Brian, the people came to believe that their society was so safe and stable that practically anyone could run it. They were also bored of being safe and grey; they wanted some excitement. They wanted a leader who reflected who they would like to be, not who their parents were.

The new leader of the opposition party was called Gaston Dubois – or ‘Gaston the Incredible’ as he was to become known; a good looking young man who spoke in a magical language and of new ideas like ‘inclusion’ and ‘diversity’. Plus he could also do cool tricks like walk on his hands and juggle jelly.

Gaston promised to make Peopleland better than good, he promised to make it awesome. He told the people that ‘diversity was strength’ and that under his rule it would become even more valuable than gold.

And so at the next election, in an attempt to make their country even better than good, the people decided to cast off their safe boring leader who could do maths, for someone who reflected their desire to be exciting and edgy.

Some voted for Gaston because he could do cool tricks, others because he was handsome and believed that having a good-looking young leader would improve their international reputation – it was mainly the women and gays who did this.

“Gaston is our leader!” they would shout over the fence at their neighbours to the south, which made them feel superior and gave them a warm glow inside. They had a leader that was young and handsome, and full of modern ideas – what more could a people want from a leader?  

Yet, despite his father, Pierre the Bastard also being leader, Gaston was not really qualified for the position and responsibilities that came with ruling a nation. Instead of studying economics at university and running his own business, Gaston had been to clown school in Montreal where he had taught kids how to light farts. Then upon graduating he was recruited by the Reptile Club based out of Davos, Switzerland to be part of their international travelling circus, Globo-Gimps.

In the early days of Gaston’s reign, the world media marvelled at this new brand of leader who looked and smelt good. He really did represent a new breed of leaders for a social media era – one based almost entirely on the dermis of a manicured image.

Gaston entertained the older more experienced world leaders at important summits with tricks he had picked up in circus school. He  challenged the elderly leader of Germany to a press-up competition, and the Communist Party Chairman of China to a game of ping pong.

At home the people loved it! The royal state press in Peopleland fawned over his every antic. State media loved Gaston and he loved them back – the more money he gave them, the more nice things they wrote and said about him.

‘Has there ever been a greater leader?’ they opined as they penned endorsement after endorsement at the awesomeness of not just Gaston, but the moral superiority of Peopleland over other less advanced nations who were still trapped in outdated ideas such as family, gender and God.

‘We are truly the greatest people who have ever lived’ they scribbled daily as Gaston increased their funding yet further.

Eventually, even Gaston started to believe all the great things he paid the royal media to say about him.

‘Am I beautiful?’ He would ask them, to which they would reply ‘Sire, a beauty more beguiling dare not exist… for you are the emperor of all goodness, and beauty lays a carpet of petals before you.’

If there was one thing that Gaston liked above all else it was to dress up. He loved to dress up so much, that when he visited a foreign country they would have to hide the dressing up box. ‘Bring me the dressing up box’ he would demand. ‘Is this your national dress?’

Then he would ‘bless’ & ‘honour’ his hosts by dressing up and dancing around in their national costume for his royal media back home. 

One of Gaston’s new ideas around this time was to replace People Day – the day when people came together to celebrate Peopleland – with Gay Day. He declared People Day ‘racist’ and Gay Day awesome.

He attended the first official Gay Day in the capital dressed in a tight fitting pink linen shirt, but got so carried away with all the excitement that he let go of the stroller carrying his children as he rushed to embrace a clutch of drag queens.

This act of letting go of his own children in order to embrace glorious degeneracy became such an iconic image of Gaston’s reign that he had a statue of the event built in the central square where the childless went to walk their dogs.

It also heralded the start of Gaston’s ‘Divine Ministry’ years, during which Gaston performed many secular miracles which defied all reason – he turned boys into girls, and girls into boys; he declared the religion of perpetual violence to be the religion of peace, and announced that Peopleland could spend as much money as they wanted to because… ‘the budget would balance itself.’

As time went on the miracles of public policy got more elaborate, complex and dangerous. He announced that the religion of perpetual violence and people who did not know if they were a boy or a girl would live harmoniously side by side in the utopia he was building – that they would tolerate and respect each other despite them being completely incompatible because they respected and loved him.

Gaston changed the word ‘mankind’ to ‘peoplekind’, and renamed Peopleland:

‘The Democratic Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland.’

The people marvelled at Gaston’s ability to perform such impossibilities. Not only was he an awesome leader, but he was also a magician who could cast spells that created alternate realities that existed outside of natural law, reason or precedent. These were the glory years – the peak of Gaston’s popularity and power. From here on in, the road that Gaston and his people would travel would become more congested.

Woke Women: What Are They Good For?

I was watching an old episode of Cracker the other evening. Robbie Coltrane plays Fitz – a gambling addicted drunk and criminal psychologist who solves murders for Manchester police by providing them with a window in on the subconscious of the killer. The series dates back to 1993, and in one of the first scenes Fitz goes out for dinner with his wife and another couple, but after a few drinks he starts ripping into their female dining partner for employing a brown nanny at $3 an hour to look after her kids, whilst she earns $20 an hour lecturing on feminism at the university.

‘If only she was black, or better still, Filipino’ Fitz goads. The scene is cut prematurely short with still more to unpack, when he has a drink thrown in his face.

The fuel for Fitz’s fury was that his diner companion does not acknowledge the hypocrisy she is engaging in – the lucrative career championing the feminist struggle made possible by exploitative cheap labour of other women.

If anything, some 30 years later things have only got worse – we now live in a culture fully immersed in subversion and associated hypocricy – where up is down, silence is violence, men are women; and everything is a cultural crime scene investigated by political appointees.

I am Karen, Hear Me Roar.

The past two years of the pandemic have all been about demographics and data. Ironically, we know now that Covid almost exclusively killed people over 80; we know that children were at virtually no risk of serious illness, and we know that the overall survival rate was over 99.5%.

The pandemic has also revealed that the manipulation and lies that we have laboured under were prosecuted almost exclusively by woke women in positions of middle to senior management. Show me a department where Covid mandates and unscientific expectations were ruthlessly enforced, and at the helm will be a woke woman with psychotic Bambi eyes straining from behind her mask, overseeing a risk averse tyranny of disproportionate response.

Woke women were not only overrepresented in the implementation of tyranny over the past two years, during that time they also revealed themselves as the weak structural link in any functioning system. What is it about this demographic that made them so susceptible to the anxiety driven suspension of common sense and cultural self-destruction?

Woke western women have been weaponized to work against the target culture from both within the family, and from the heights of senior management they now occupy, in a way that is reminiscent of how Edward Bernays – the father of advertising, first duped them into smoking cigarettes post WW1, by selling it as sexual liberation.

To get a deeper understanding of this type of mass manipulation, I would encourage anyone who has not yet, to see the excellent mini-series by filmmaker Adam Curtis on the life and work of PR psychologist, Edward Bernays entitled: The Century of the Self

In true Bernays style, the term ‘Karen’ is yet another subversive tool devised to then muddy the waters even further by silencing white women in favour of women of colour, unless of course those white women were willing to publicly self flagellate with the same flail they had just finished using on their men.

Misery Demands Company

Woke women are desperately unhappy in their new role. The collapse in Western civilization has sold them Thelma & Louise with an Only Fans Plug-In, and handed them the wheel, but they are miserable and lost – their traditional role at the centre of the family and community has been replaced with the offer of being shit men as my friend puts it. We have created an advanced society in which men are encouraged to be pathetic versions of women, and women are encouraged to be a shit version of men.

In East Vancouver young women dress like Gulag residents – dungarees, boots, shaved heads, round glasses, big coats and wool hats. They are fully ‘liberated’ and control every aspect of their lives down to gender identity, but they don’t dress like liberated spirits, they dress like inmates; prisoners of their excessive freedom. They seem unsatisfied with the wet beta males they have helped create, and it’s understandable – they have emasculated their men to the point that even they don’t want to fuck them. Instead they lust for Rousseau’s Noble Savage; those that haven’t been under their psychological scalpel – the culturally un-castrated foreigner. It’s the wholesale rejection of the product they helped design & create. Do you use your product? Never!

‘I don’t have kids, I have dogs instead…’

‘Why would I want to bring children into this world?’ (The world you helped create?)

‘There are too many people, it’d be better for the environment if everyone stopped having children…’

‘He’s a nice caring guy, but I don’t want to fuck him.. I want someone with confidence who takes control.’

These harpies are the societal definition of misanthropic and confused misery. They have rendered themselves redundant. They are not men, nor are they women; they are now little more than an activated accelerator for societal collapse. You can see what has happened here.

Conversely, the Christian women I know who embrace what would be described as ‘traditional values’ are both comfortable within themselves, and appreciate their significance at the centre of both their family and community where they are valued and respected. Such women, rather than being victims of the patriarchy, are not only by-and-large happier and more influential than their liberated counterparts, they are also valued and celebrated in a meaningful way.

But of course, the only version of motherhood that is celebrated by the media is that of single motherhood – the version where the state is the father.

And so we have to import people to keep the wheels of society in motion – Filipino nannies who have to leave their own families to clean for career woke white women whilst they earn four times as much lecturing in Women’s Studies, or care for them once they become incapable and isolated by their choices. Brown people to serve them fast food; more brown people to sell them gas, and of course mass immigration policies to feed it all. This is the nothing short of the wholesale destruction of all societies and all families.

No wonder they are annoyed when someone points it out.

The Siege of Ottawa

As truckers and support vehicles set off from Vancouver on a foggy and freezing Sunday morning to start their long journey to Ottawa, I began to wonder what Trudeau’s response would be to the various convoys creeping towards him from every corner of the country? I didn’t have to wait long.

Early on Monday morning as the government was putting pressure on the truck convoy’s GoFundMe account, which had by then raised over $1 million dollars (now over $5 million at time of writing), Trudeau came out and dismissed opposition concerns over supply chain disruptions as ‘fear-mongering’ – which is obviously a different type of fear-mongering to sort his government, health officials and state media have been engaging in for the past two years.

Trudeau Slams Concerns Over Food Shortages As ‘Fear-mongering‘.

I was expecting something divisive and combative as a first move in what promises to be a week-long chess match to decide the fate of the country.  

But by dismissing the prospect of supply chain issues as ‘fear-mongering’, he is positioning himself to carry the full weight of any supply chain issues that result from his vaccine mandate, or from the creeping blockade. Not very bright considering that we already have food shortages in some parts of the country, which are certain to get worse with 25 – 35% of truckers no longer working those routes. Any shortage can now be legitimately loaded onto the shoulders of his collapsing political career.

The official narrative is clearly shifting as thousands of truckers prepare to lay siege to Ottawa. Both CBC & Yahoo News – state propaganda for 17 year old girls, have changed their tune in the past couple of days, lest they become entangled and dragged down by a sinking minority government.

It seemed pretty clear after just 24hrs, that Trudeau’s political career is going to be sacrificed this week. He has become a liability to the power behind the curtain, and a head will need to be offered lest the country consume everyone who has prosecuted this Covid madness.

CBC: Conservative MPs accuse Trudeau of pushing ‘vaccine vendetta’ as convoy protest heads to Ottawa  

We are witnessing Canadian history being forged in steel; the next two weeks are going to determine this country’s future.

We will see whether the Globalists back off in fear of a public and their boy prince puppet is sacrificed as an offering to the people, or whether they forge ahead with collapsing the supply chain and isolating the unvaccinated to the point where access to food becomes a challenge.

I don’t think the elites are done, but if we persevere we may well be offered a reprieve before they move to their next phase – whether that be a monkey pox they found lying around, or an orchestrated limited conflict with Russia over Ukraine.

But I do believe this phase is done, and all those involved will be thrown to the dogs if need be having served their purpose. You can smell the political blood in the water here in Canada – something has flipped; the public have finally had enough, and have been left with no option but to lay siege to the palace of Peopleland in Ottawa to topple the Bacha Bazi boy prince dictator once and for all.

The sheer determination and scale of mobilization is nothing short of astounding. The West Coast convoy alone is reported to now be 70km’s long and has already broken the Guinness world Record for longest truck convoy. Organizers are estimating there will be 10,000’s of trucks and support vehicles descending on Ottawa by the end of the week. I cannot see how this ends well for the Liberals.

As the convoy starts to execute its stranglehold the capital, expect Trudeau to start sounding like the Iraqi Minister of Information, Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf, during the second Gulf War of 2003 – denying that American forces were in the city.

“Maybe they will enter Umm Qasr and Basra, but how will they enter Baghdad? It will be a big oven for them. They can penetrate our borders but they cannot reach Baghdad? They will try to pull our army and troops out but we are well aware of their plans and they will fail.”

Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf, Iraqi Minister of Information   March 22nd 2003

And whilst the logistical situation for Trudeau might resemble the fall of Baghdad in 2003, the 2022 Siege of Ottawa has all the makings of a classic overthrow of a despised despot by pure people power, and will most likely play out like the fall of lifelong Romanian dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu in 1989; with Trudeau making a tearful resignation speech before leaving for Cuba in a helicopter with all the country’s gold, and then remembering he’d already sold it.

Grab your trans-fat non-binary Islamic popcorn Canadians, this week is going to go down as a milestone in national history, and one that everyone can be proud of.                                     

The Fash Mark: Right Wing Crypto-Currencies Enter the Market

As Crypto-currencies continue their meteoric rise, today saw the launch of the first politically driven crypto-currency, the Fash Mark. As the name suggests, The Fash Mark (Fascist Mark) is a right wing currency created to capture the political & economic will of a growing number of people across Western societies who wish to invest in crypto-currencies ethically. Unlike Bitcoin, which employs complicated algorithms to ‘mine’ for units, leaving behind open pits and a large environmental footprint, the creators of the Fash Mark claim they are have been able to create units of currency from collecting all the liberal tears from liberal meltdown in vast reservoirs, before forcing them at high pressure into hydro-electro pumps, which then churn out an environmentally clean fascist crypto-currency – the Fash Mark. The people behind the Fash Mark are reported to have made their fortune during the great Meme War of 2016, after which the bottom fell out of the liberal tears & melting snowflakes market. In an interview with Rolling Stone magazine earlier this month, founder Otto Skorzeny said: ‘After the election of Trump, there were parts of California that had’t seen rain in months that were suddenly a foot under water with liberal tears. In the past companies had collected them to sell as an assault rifle lubricant, but the sheer volume we saw on November the 9th was a strain on the sewage system. I realized that the salty bitch tears of progressives was perfect for the hydro electro-turbine I had been working on for creating an environmentally sound crypto-currency.’ When asked how many Fash Marks will be created, Skorzeny gave this reply: ‘We haven’t set a limit; it’s down to how many tears and how much melting snowflake water is produced and can be collected. Basically the more liberals and the left whine, bitch and meltdown, the more Fash Marks will be created.’ Trump is back in now, so there’s more scope for expansion of supply.

Trudeau’s ‘Hug a Terrorist’ Program For Returning ISIS Fighters

 

 

Justin Trudeau’s Liberal government reached a new plateau of transcendental thinking, when it announced that Canadians returning from fighting for ISIS in Syria & Iraq will be ‘re-habilitated’ rather than prosecuted or killed.

Whilst most other Western nations have stated that the only practical solution is for their domestic ISIS fighters to be killed in country and not return, the Trudeau government is offering hugs and hot chocolate to those who have been busy decapitating children in the name of Allah.

U.S. Special Envoy, Brett McGurk stated explicitly on a recent visit to Syria. “Our mission is to make sure that any foreign fighter who is here, who joined ISIS from a foreign country and came into Syria, that they will die here in Syria.”

France, too, is working to eradicate its jihadis overseas. A Wall Street Journal investigation published in May quoted French and Iraqi officials describing French special forces co-operating with Iraqi units to hunt down and kill French jihadis.

Whilst The Sunday Times reports that Britain’s Special Air Service, SAS, has been given a “kill list” of British jihadis, including notorious ISIS recruiter and convert Sally Jones.

U.K government minister Rory Stewart said “Converts who leave Britain to fight for the terror group are guilty of horrific acts and the only way of dealing with them is to kill them “in almost every case”.

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These countries, all of which have extensive experience at the business end of Islamic terrorism, appreciate that this is the only practical solution; to allow these people back into their countries is to expose their populations to almost certain acts of terror.

Canadian state apparatus, CBC pimped the official line dutifully when it echoed the statement made by Public Safety Minister Ralph Goodale  that “Canada does not engage in death squads.”

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The irony that this statement should be made by a minister with the title of Public Safety Minister would be Pythonesque if it wasn’t so perverse.

Trudeau’s Liberals may find the prospect of killing Canadian Islamic fighters – which are estimated to number 200 in number – too distasteful to contemplate, but the Minister for Public Safety is clearly willing to provide safe passage for Islamic death squads returning home after defeat in Syria & Iraq, who will then be free to target Canadians at home as they have previously threatened.

None of this makes sense of course unless you are ideologically addled progressive for whom ideals trump reality and the safety of your citizens, whom you have been elected to protect and serve.

Canadians should be concerned that a rich kid like Trudeau, raised on pure ideology, should be in a position to knowingly endanger their families’ safety for the sake of a political indulgence.

If these returning Islamic fighters decide after the hugs and generous welfare offerings, that what Allah really wants is a truck attack on pedestrians, or a knife attack on shoppers, then Trudeau and his government of progressive impairment will be complicit in any deaths that follow.