Bite the bullet, you wimp
FINGS ain’t wot they used to be in the old mother country.
From the time the Empire began to disintegrate in 1948, it seems the Brits have become increasingly irrelevant. And now a pipsqueak like Julian Assange isn’t making life any easier for them.
E v e r s i n c e t h e t i r e s o me WikiLeaks saga took its latest turn and the troublesome but highly self-opinionated Aussie snoop took refuge in the Ecuadorian Embassy in the heart of the snooty London suburb of Kensington, there’s been trouble brewing for the Poms.
Now, as the fallout from Assange’s moral cowardice descends like bat poo cascading down to earth in a tropical rainforest (quite apt, that, given Ecuador draws its name from its proximity to the equator) it would appear that Britain and the government of slippery Julian’s South American bolt hole have launched themselves on a collision course from which it will be very difficult for either of the main players to deviate without a great loss of face.
On one side of the great divide are the Ecuadorians. For reasons best known to themselves they’ve decided t o grant asylum t o Assange and will allow him to live among them in Quito (or wherever) . . . until, that is, he inevitably shafts them as well and they end up exiling him to a perch on the Galapagos Islands.
Facing off on the other side are the Brits who, with typical stiff upper lips and a plentitude of social righteousness, have promised to knock Assange off the moment he steps outside the front door of the embassy and send him off to Sweden where authorities are quite anxious to discuss with him a couple of unsavoury rape allegations.
The man in the middle, meanwhile, appears to do nothing beyond skulk behind the protection of diplomatic immunity, exercising his increasing powers of self-preservation and obviously h i s u n d e r - d e v e l o p e d s o c i a l conscience.
The really dodgy bit here, of course, is that for the Ecuadorians to get Assange to the airport for his rat run to sanctuary, he’ll have to leave the embassy. And, promise the Poms, as soon as he does that, he will loose the safety net of diplomatic protection and find himself on his way to Sweden at the hard won legal behest of that country.
That’s a ‘‘no-win, no-win’’ scenario if ever I saw one!
I know there are plenty of Assange disciples out there who appear unable to get their heads around the notion that this whole mess is not just a planned and driven conspiracy by America to get Assange, even indirectly, back to the States where they can fit him with treason charges then stick him up against a wall and shoot him.
Although I find the prospect quite appealing, I don’t buy it. At present, on the world stage alone, the Yanks have a lot more to occupy their attention than, however tempting the prospect may be, sinking the boot of righteousness into Assange’s bum.
Are we not glossing
over
the rape allegations that forced Assange to do a runner from Sweden in the first place?
Surely, if this bloke has even a shred of decency floating around somewhere in that hugely-inflated ego, he would feel almost compelled to clear himself of the suggestion he may be nothing but a predator of the worst kind.
If he had the guts to do that, perhaps I, and millions of other sceptics around the world, would be a little more predisposed towards minimising his plight.
At the moment though, I stick to my belief Assange is a gutless wimp who is quite happy for others to fight his battles while he hides under the bed.
I wait with keen anticipation to be proved wrong.