Exhausted is the word. Debating a post of my own on this topic but I just don’t know if I have the energy. I know that’s a luxury for me - to ‘opt out’ to an extent but it’s not an opt out for anyone really. I can’t believe we’re seeing the same crap we saw 10 years ago when UKIP and BNP whipped up the similar hate.
Tbh you’d think these people (most of them grown ass men) would grow up and do something productive with their adult time instead of making up racist lies as an excuse to set cars on fire. But here we are. Thanks douchebag politicians, thanks internet.
And since I’m in the mood to be petty, they all dress badly too.
The fundamental truth is that it is fascism and it needs to be called out for what it is. It is dreaming up a phoney enemy to justify your actions, just like the "socialists" who burned the Reichstag to justify Hittler's grab for poer.
But from personal experience, although not seeking to compete at all, when I lived in the south of England I found my New Zealand accent either mocked or looked down on, and so, unintentionally I found my accent softening and I conformed more to Radio Four (which is not in itself a bad thing, just being forced to it). I have also a long list of examples where professionally I would be sneered at because I came from the colonies and clearly I could not be better qualified than many of those I dealy with.
Since moving to Shetland, which is an unusual place in that it is both rural and cosmopolitan at the same time, and very outward looking, it seems as though much of my natural accent has returned. It is almost as though my inner self has recieved "permission" to revert to my natural state. And amazingly, no-one here cannot understand me, or, as was often the case south, no-one pretends not to understand be for a cheap insult.
That said, I did once have to ring a branch office in Cirencester from the Bristol office to ask for something, and a few minutes later the person from Cirencester rang one of my colleagues to ask what it was that I was wanting, as they were too busy listening to my "dreamy" accent. and so wasn't really paying attention. #takethewinwhenyoucangetit.
Exhausted is the word. Debating a post of my own on this topic but I just don’t know if I have the energy. I know that’s a luxury for me - to ‘opt out’ to an extent but it’s not an opt out for anyone really. I can’t believe we’re seeing the same crap we saw 10 years ago when UKIP and BNP whipped up the similar hate.
Tbh you’d think these people (most of them grown ass men) would grow up and do something productive with their adult time instead of making up racist lies as an excuse to set cars on fire. But here we are. Thanks douchebag politicians, thanks internet.
And since I’m in the mood to be petty, they all dress badly too.
And they do dress badly - it is not being petty - it is just the truth.
And the absolute cheek of Reform condemning the actions, as though their rhetoric doesn't encourage racism!
I hope every single one of these scumbags gets what's coming to them. Lots of lovely photos around with their faces on full display.
The fundamental truth is that it is fascism and it needs to be called out for what it is. It is dreaming up a phoney enemy to justify your actions, just like the "socialists" who burned the Reichstag to justify Hittler's grab for poer.
But from personal experience, although not seeking to compete at all, when I lived in the south of England I found my New Zealand accent either mocked or looked down on, and so, unintentionally I found my accent softening and I conformed more to Radio Four (which is not in itself a bad thing, just being forced to it). I have also a long list of examples where professionally I would be sneered at because I came from the colonies and clearly I could not be better qualified than many of those I dealy with.
Since moving to Shetland, which is an unusual place in that it is both rural and cosmopolitan at the same time, and very outward looking, it seems as though much of my natural accent has returned. It is almost as though my inner self has recieved "permission" to revert to my natural state. And amazingly, no-one here cannot understand me, or, as was often the case south, no-one pretends not to understand be for a cheap insult.
That said, I did once have to ring a branch office in Cirencester from the Bristol office to ask for something, and a few minutes later the person from Cirencester rang one of my colleagues to ask what it was that I was wanting, as they were too busy listening to my "dreamy" accent. and so wasn't really paying attention. #takethewinwhenyoucangetit.