LOW-LEVEL civil wars are breaking out all over Britland. There are Remainers versus Brexiteers, cyclists versus decent road users and, in Scotlandshire, dependence versus independence supporters.

However, as if that weren’t enough to be getting on with, a new front opened this week. War has been declared on the elderly – by the House of Lords (average age 74).

Recently, I went on record – always a mistake; as a columnist, I find it preferable to keep my opinions to myself – praising the House of Lords as a civilised counterpoint to the bawling brouhaha that is the House of Commons. I take that back now and, never one for half-measures, believe the Lords should be abolished forthwith.

The brass neck of them. The out-of-touch ignorance of them. The dim-witted, cloth-eared, pig-headed, hair-raising, nose-blowing, ear-waggling, tongue-wagging cheek of them.

You say: “What are you getting so het up about? You’re usually quite calm, not to say, you know, a little sleepy.” I will tell you what I’m getting so het up about, madam. This shower of old gits wants to take the few perks that elderly people get so that the money can be spent instead on the young.

Don’t get me wrong. I would shower gold on the younglings if I could, even if I would not allow them to drive, vote or be out on the streets after 6pm (6:30 on Saturdays). But, rather than rob old Peter to pay young Paul, there is a better way to raise money for them, and I will outline this below, once I have thought of it.

So, what does the Lords want to do exactly? Well, its Select Committee on Intergenerational Fairness – the what now? – has suggested scrapping winter fuel allowances, free bus passes for those under 72, free TV licences for over-75s, and automatic pension rises of at least 2.5 per cent.

Consider the list. Consider these few pathetic perks, offered to folk after a lifetime of working. Consider that our state pension is the lowest in the developed world. And consider taking it all away. That is the British way today.

There is a definite malice at the heart of the British state. It wasn’t always like that. After the Second World War, it looked to make things better for the people. Now it is forever checking to see what it can take away, what it can save, what it can cut. It is a nasty, miserly, malevolent state.

Actually, maybe it always was. After all, the predication of the pension is that you would peg out just a couple of years after becoming entitled to it. But at least the state of old instituted the thing and gave the impression of caring.

Bizarrely, the Lords’ reason for hammering the old is that they’re apparently all well-off nowadays, which must come as a surprise to the millions who live off nothing more than the state pension. Many folk will have suffered unemployment and poverty under Margaret Thatcher and now find themselves with nothing to look forward to, even these meagre perks, in old age.

Those who worked all their lives in low-wage Britain probably know how the system works anyway: you pays your taxes and gets sod all back. By my reckoning, the British state owes me a fortune. And the House of Lords owes the elderly an apology. They must think every old person, like them, gets £300 a day for gently snoozing, with subsidised food and drink into the bargain. If they must pick on a section of society to subsidise the young then let it be football.

Yes, football. The wages of many players are stratospherically absurd. TV companies make a packet out of horrendously priced sports packages, paid for by folk with more money than sense, who also actually attend games, which are today the province of only the well-heeled upper working class who made their own fortunes by overcharging people in their “trades”.

Let all of them pay to subsidise the young: the players, the clubs, the TV companies and the spectators. This measure would undoubtedly prove popular across the nation, uniting us all once again and inconveniencing only a privileged few who have had it too good for too long.

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THE Axis of Evil is being reborn. I choose my words carefully. Like most decent ratepayers, I am not in favour of evil, as it is arguably a bad thing.

Readers who survived the 20th century may recall that the original Axis of Evil, a term invented by US President and leading philosopher George W Bush, comprised Iran, Iraq and North Korea. There was also a B team of Cuba, Libya and Syria. I think we bombed most of these, thus putting paid to their evil plans for world domination (our job).

This week, a new Axis of E began to take shape when North Korea’s chief narcissist King Kong-un visited leading Russian narcissist Vladimir Putin, after falling out with top US narcissist Derek Trump. Can’t put my finger on it, but there may be a pattern here.

N Korea is also reaching out to China, never far off when evil is afoot, resulting in the possibility of a new Triumvirate of Badness threatening the peace and order brought to the world by the West.

Kong has now invited the Russian president over to his bit to cement the alliance, which unfortunately comes at a time when Britain doesn’t have any bombs left.

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IMAGES from history often become fixed in our minds, reflecting perhaps significant world events or, sometimes, moments of horror.

An incidence of the latter was brought to mind this week when Jack “Lord” McConnell, the former First Minister, recalled wearing a pinstripe kilt that sent shock waves around the world.

On medical advice, for the sake of readers of an easily frightened disposition, we are unwilling to reproduce the image here. But, for my money, it wasn’t so much the kilt as the accompanying blouse that led to record levels of intercontinental vomit.

Lord Jack of that ilk was appearing at a photocall while attending a fashion event in New York and, as he later revealed, had become too fat as First Minister to get into his jaickit, thus forcing him to display the full horror of the blouse atop the unconventional kilt.

This week, still hounded by the press 15 years later, Jack was unrepentant, claiming he didn’t regret the gaffe in the least. “I’m glad people got something to laugh at. It doesn’t bother me a bit,” he said, as he returned to the House of Lords in a big red cloak and a Napoleon-style cocked hat.

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FEMINISTS are burdz who are quite easy to wind up, so we will choose our words carefully here as we consider the Scottish Maritime Museum’s decision to stop calling ships and boats “she” and to go gender-neutral.

I have no strong views on the matter, accepting on the one hand that the practice is antiquated but also feeling confused as it was never a derogatory reference, as I understand it, but if anything a complimentary one, ships often being objects of beauty and wonder.

Perhaps it’s the objectification to which folk object. I noticed one reader saying that it might have related to these busty dames that used to adorn the prows of vessels, which is arguable I suppose.

At any rate, irate lassies would scratch the word out on the museum’s displays. It’s odd to think how worked up people get about such small things. Online, the working up went the other way, as top males protested about “erasing history” and more “political correctness” practised by an oppressive minority.

However, for the sake of a quiet life, it is understandable how our institutions succumb to the sensitivities of the feminist, or she who must be obeyed.

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