John Dexter Jones

Zombie Jubilee – Everything In Its Place

A place where commentators are upset by freedom to boo (unless it’s freedom to boo in a racist way) ; a place where grinning dimwits pose for photographs, proud that they are celebrating entrenched poverty as they nibble sausage rolls at the opening of food banks; a place where people vote to be apart and then complain about the consequences of being apart; a place where refugees are welcome if they are the right kind and fleeing from wars that fit the correct profile, but threatened with deportation to danger if they are other and fleeing from inconvenient truths; a place that marks worthy contributions to a society that has been said doesn’t exist, with the award of medals in the name of an empire that brutalised, enslaved, robbed and murdered; a place where the masters and untouchables demand adherence to the law and laugh in its face; a place where mendacity is rote; a place where compassion is regarded as weakness; a place where sleepwalking backwards to the beginning of the longest, darkest night is framed in the holiday of the Zombie Jubilee.