I see that renowned patriotic Irishman Alan Shatter (see Shatter Watch label on this blog) has published another book, this time a memoir. Naturally the literati and glitterati have fawned over it. I haven’t bought it needless to say but from the reviews we learn that both parents were ‘born into Jewish families in England‘ while Shatter’s own wife is also Jewish. Not much sign there of the ethnic and religious diversity, the beautiful mosaic that he trumpets for everyone else. Apart from Israel. For some reason….

He tells us that he ‘made many friends as a teenager‘. Well if he did he’s long lost them all. It could be for him that Oscar Wilde coined the witticism ‘even his friends hate him‘. I believe he went to a psychiatrist about this complaining ‘Doc, everyone hates me’. ‘Nonsense’ replied the psychiatrist. ‘Really?’ ‘Of course. Think of all the people who don’t know you‘. Why the unpopularity? Well he’s a grasping, mean-spirited. vindictive and disloyal little man. But it goes beyond that. By way of explanation the gods have bestowed many unfortunate qualities on us Irish. As Samuel Johnson observed ‘the Irish are an honest people. They never speak well of one another’.

But we do have this admirable quality. Success tends not to go to our heads and woe betide anyone for whom it does, especially if they start to look down on their erstwhile colleagues. Perhaps because he possess but a thin veneer of Irishness Shatter fell headlong into this trap. His Ministerial appointment saw his arrogance and self-regard skyrocket. Former colleagues with whom he’d been on first-name terms were now quite literally blanked in the corridors of power. His few friends vanished while his army of enemies swelled by the day. Which was bad news for him when the shit hit the fan. Nobody was there for him and he was forced from office to unanimous acclaim. In an exquisite irony it emerged subsequently that he had been unjustly removed but by then the damage had been done. Not only had he lost his Ministry but in the ensuing General Election he lost his parliamentary seat.

Here’s what he says about ex-Prime Minister Garret FitzGerald in the book. “Contrary to the cuddly public image I found Garret to be a difficult and cold person with whom to engage’. (Why do the words kettle and pot spring to mind?). Now I was on a working group with Garret very many years ago and found him to be the exact opposite, But according to Shatter ‘he (FitzGerald) had no interest in me‘. Perhaps, Alan, he was just a good judge of character. Coincidentally in later years the two families sat across from one another on a plane. Shatter tried to ingratiate himself but was again rebuffed. Shortly after this their young son got up from his seat and kicked Garret viciously on the shin. We can just imagine what Shatter and his missus must have said to induce such animus in the kid.

And now he lurks in the shadows, bitter and vengeful, But he can take consolation from his many achievements. Like flooding Ireland with a quarter of a million enrichers from every hell-hole on the planet. Or his ‘judicial reform’ measures. Understand that when Jews talk about ‘reform’ it invariable means passing off as universal altruistic principles the undermining of traditional institutions and/or enriching themselves. For instance immigration ‘reform’ results in White countries – and only White countries – getting swamped by the Third World. And Shatter didn’t disappoint. His judicial ‘reforms’ sought to gut existing marriage, divorce and abortion legislation while systematically undermining the influence of the Catholic Church (which he deemed to hold too much power). At the same time he worked relentlessly to strengthen the position of solicitors – his branch of the law business – against that of barristers in the lucrative High Court honey pot.

But maybe we should cut him some slack as he truly had a terrible childhood. His maternal grandmother was such a termagant that the family used to literally walk the streets to avoid her. This contributed to Shatter’s own mother committing suicide when he was fourteen. And it was he who discovered her body when he came home from school. She had gassed herself – a bizarre and tragic twist to the Holocaust narrative which had served the family so well.

So common decency means we make allowances but ultimately he was responsible for his own actions as an adult. And for these actions he should never be forgiven.

Source:: Irish Savant