After I had my little rant recently on the spectre of Enoch Powell coming back to haunt politicians and talked about the fear that public figures have of voicing honest opinions and beliefs due to the politically correct and barren nature of political debate, it suddenly occurred to me that these people who sow this fear – faceless, nameless but all powerful – do not appear to have a collective name. There has always been woolly talk about ‘liberals’ and liberal talk about ‘woolly hats’ but in reality we neither know who these people are, where they came from, where they hide out nor where they will strike next.

Let’s be perfectly honest for a moment. To the vast majority of ordinary people – like you and me – and I suspect the majority of those in the public eye, political correctness is something you practice – not something you believe in. And you practice it and go ‘tut, tut’ when others make so-called inappropriate remarks, because if you stray everyone else practicing it but not believing it is going to hunt you down and string you up. In the Powell item, I called it ‘the cul de sac of fear’.

But somewhere out there, peeping out from behind their metaphoric net curtains, there really are people who believe one hundred percent that we are all equal. That gender, race, nationality, skin colour, religion are all irrelevant. That intelligence, ability and talent are the wrong measures of success. That there can be no winners because for every winner there have to be losers and there are no losers. Because we are all equal. Everyone is a victim and those who commit crimes are the real victims and more in need of our time, money and understanding than those they commit crimes against. The list goes on and on.

What has always amazed me of course, and I have said this many times before, is how these people, these true zealots, managed to get not just their foot in the door of public debate, but their whole set of warped ideals onto the public agenda. How did we let this happen? And we don’t even know who these people are. They needle away in the background, orchestrating the fear that surrounds people from having honest and useful debate yet they are faceless. And this, of course, is the exact same model that terrorist organisations use. Which is exactly what these people are: social terrorists.

Which brings me back to my original question. What is their collective name? When normal folk talk about these people there is no term or name to hang on them which in turn leaves you virtually inarticulate and floundering. They need a name. Give them a name and we have something tangible. Talk about an Islamic fundamentalist and it sounds harmless. Name it Hezbollah and you can immediately measure and catalogue it. You can join it and preach it’s sermon or you can stand up and fight. Talk about a Northern Irish Nationalist and it sounds like a guy you met in a pub. Name it the IRA and suddenly it has teeth and is chasing you.

All good, honest terrorist organisations and movements have a name. And it’s about time we discovered the real name of the terrorists who have destroyed our way of life and manipulated our world into the mess it’s in today. Give it a name, expose it’s members and we have something to fight against.

As usual I am late with this one but I wanted to give the good old BBC plenty of time to mention it. As far as I can tell, however, they seem to have ignored it. So, back to the recent item Now They’ve Got It In For My Wine. Anyone watching the BBC news broadcasts regarding the report that so many of us are drinking too much will have noticed that they really went to town. Big splash, dire warnings, catchy headlines, end of the world stuff.

So it seems rather sad to me that the follow up news story seems to have been ignored. But you can read it at Times Online headlined: How ‘safe drinking’ experts let a bottle or two go to their heads.

In a nutshell, the claims that we were all falling into alcoholism and about to die of liver disease was based on the recommended maximum daily alcohol units published by the Royal College of Surgeons back in 1987. These recommendations have been used by health professionals everywhere since then and were the measure for last weeks scare report. The problem, now exposed, is that the levels they cast in stone 20 years ago were absolutely meaningless.

Richard Smith, the former editor of the British Medical Journal and a member of the college’s working party on alcohol, told The Times yesterday that the figures were not based on any clear evidence. He remembers “rather vividly” what happened when the discussion came round to whether the group should recommend safe limits for men and women.

“David Barker was the epidemiologist on the committee and his line was that ‘We don’t really have any decent data whatsoever. It’s impossible to say what’s safe and what isn’t’.

“And other people said, ‘Well, that’s not much use. If somebody comes to see you and says ‘What can I safely drink?’, you can’t say ‘Well, we’ve no evidence. Come back in 20 years and we’ll let you know’. So the feeling was that we ought to come up with something. So those limits were really plucked out of the air. They weren’t really based on any firm evidence at all. It was a sort of intelligent guess by a committee.”

In other words – it was a complete and utter lie and a worthless recommendation. Time, methinks, to get the corkscrew out.

The following is a direct lift from a comment I received today that came from a friend who is a teacher. Read it and weep.

A further sign of this cotton wool lunacy was made clear to me this week at my place of work. Children have been banned for some years now from playing the age old Autumn game of ‘conkers’ in school playgrounds because they may ‘hurt’ themselves. The glut of conkers, lying sadly unused on the floor at this time of year seems to have risen and in last week’s staff meeting it was brought to our attention that the children were ‘throwing’ them at each other and could get ‘hurt’. The proposal was to ask the local council for permission to cut down the offending trees on safety grounds, a move that most felt sure would be agreed.

I’m sorry, but I have gone completely off the rails on this story. Ask yourself if you really want to live and bring up your children in the same world as the brain-crippled arseholes who can make this sort of proposal. I know I’d rather not. Please… anyone… how the fuck do we get rid of them?

I remember seeing a comedy sketch once (Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis) where two men sat at a restaurant table going through the menu and dismissing each option because, at some time, they had been told by this report or that report, that the specific item was unhealthy or bad for them. They ended at the coffee which also, of course, had to be ignored.

Today it’s the turn of alcohol again. Having been told for years that a glass of red wine a day is good for my heart I am now suddenly told that it’s going to kill me. Well it wont, of course. The fags will do that!

But what I really want to do is get you to read my friend Mike Power’s take on this – Quick, pour me a stiff drink – because this is exactly the piece I wanted to write.

Someone ought to take Dr Tamara Bibby outside and shoot her. It would temporarily put us all out of our misery and cheer us up no end. The aforesaid Doctor, in an Institute of Education report, has said… wait for it… “Children should not be ticked off by teachers because it may make them feel bad”!

Here’s another one: “Pupils should be allowed to chat in lessons rather than sitting quietly and paying attention”.

Actually, shooting is too good for her. In an effort to make the punishment for publishing this bullshit (no doubt funded out of my taxes) fit the crime, we have come up with the perfect sentence. Dr Tamara Bibby should spend one term (and my wife, who knows these things, recommends the Autumn term) working as a classroom assistant or, as they are sometimes called, a Learning Support Assistant. Let’s say to a class full of 13 year-olds in an inner city comprehensive.

And if she still holds the same views after that – then we shoot her.