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The people who voted for khan must all be.....
5th May UK regional elections discussion and results
- Thread starter Judgeneo
- Start date
I'd say from my understanding of the word, that both the Mayor and the Government have "a Mandate" just not particularly strong ones.
What was the vote for ?
Soldato
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Ok how do you work that out?
A 2011 census estimated London's population of Muslims at 1,012,823 of which London had a population of 8,173,941. Obviously these figures would have risen a lot though.
Not only that a higher proportion of the muslim demographic tends to be a lot younger, who are ineligible to vote or less likely to vote.
The simple answer is that Zac Goldsmith was an awful candidate. The lies about Sadiq Khan also had a large impact.
London does not want a divisive mayor.
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Soldato
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RIP london, Most of the mayors and councillors in the north are now muslims so it only makes sense that the rest of England slowly follows.......
I wonder if in around 50-100 years when the UK has a majority islamic population and sharia is enforced and all other religions are banned or persecuted, Will the loopy self hating lefties and liberals still be asking for more of their poisonous multiculturalism ?
I wonder if in around 50-100 years when the UK has a majority islamic population and sharia is enforced and all other religions are banned or persecuted, Will the loopy self hating lefties and liberals still be asking for more of their poisonous multiculturalism ?
What are the lottery numbers next week?
Did you put money on Leicester to win the PL?
You seem to know the future with such certainty.
Soldato
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Although I grudgingly voted for the other guy because I'm not a fan of Labour, congratulations and good luck to Mr Khan!
I really don't care what colour the man's skin is or which god he prays to, as long he's good at the job the majority of Londoner's elected him to do. It's like when people lost their **** over Barrack Obama becoming President. I don't care if he's black, I care that he can do the job.
I really don't care what colour the man's skin is or which god he prays to, as long he's good at the job the majority of Londoner's elected him to do. It's like when people lost their **** over Barrack Obama becoming President. I don't care if he's black, I care that he can do the job.
Associate
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+1. good to see some sense coming out of few. there is still hope
Best of luck Mr. Khan. Rise above all this crap and do what's best for London.
P.S. Disappointed with filth and hate some people are filled with. RIP.
Turnout for the PCC in my areas was 20.25%. I did vote but I seriously considered not doing so because I don't believe in politicising the police. On top of that, very few people have any idea who their PCC is or what they do. It's no surprise that people are uninterested in voting for them.
With local government there is a general lack of understanding of what local government does (q.v. the various "collect the bins" comments in this thread) and a real problem with local democracy because of the degree to which many councils will always go one way or the other. So I'm not surprised at the low turnout there.
I'm more surprised that the London Mayor didn't get a higher turnout (although it was the joint highest by percentage and the numerically highest since the position was first elected) since the Mayor is quite visible and has a fair degree of influence.
Soldato
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Caporegime
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I don't mind Khan being mayor as long he is fair and doesn't pander to Muslims in London. I don't want these mega mosques being built as they are a breeding ground for extremism, hinder integration and have no place in Britain. Khan has overall control over this now. Muslims are welcome to practice their religion but mega mosques are not the way to go. Religious buildings in general whether they be churches, mosques or temples should be balanced in areas. They are all useless anyway IMO.
As long as he is fair to all classes, genders, races and religions then I wish him good luck.
As long as he is fair to all classes, genders, races and religions then I wish him good luck.
Soldato
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When you get bored in election campaigns
The Fall of Goldsmith
We were surrounded and cut off atop a grassy knoll just outside the capital. No reinforcements would reach us from our strongholds in the South, and our UKIP allies had fled already in all directions -- too late, we left it all too late. The hour of our final judgement was drawing near. What few good men we did have with us closed in the ranks, with grim determination to fight on -- come what may...
The Fall of Goldsmith
We were surrounded and cut off atop a grassy knoll just outside the capital. No reinforcements would reach us from our strongholds in the South, and our UKIP allies had fled already in all directions -- too late, we left it all too late. The hour of our final judgement was drawing near. What few good men we did have with us closed in the ranks, with grim determination to fight on -- come what may...
A gentle inner voice suggested: "Form up the doughnut, Zac. Fear not."
And so I issued the order -- the voice had never once wronged me; a saint or devil -- I did not care which, if it brought victory on this fair day of May, I would be its eternal servant ever after. Then they came.
All around us, a tumultuous ocean of banners red, green and orange. Some unholy wretch also scribed "CISTA" on his shield -- whatever that meant, it did not bode well for my loyal knights enwrapped in blue. Oh, woe! Is that what veterans called a swing?
"Zac, deploy the mud trebuchets. Bring down a few minarets around them. It will work," another whisper.
I complied. The hacks at the back scurried, the ugly weapons were set up and let loose with much leaflet and great smear. For a time it seemed as if a boundless disorder would envelop our opponents.
“Anti-Semites among us,” someone shouted, “we must find them! Betrayal!” It was a confused commotion on their left flank and the right. Perhaps even a chance for us to seize this martial bull by its sharpened horns and turn the tide of battle yet…
“What say you, voice?”
“Profile racially, dear Zac. Wedge in firmly rightwards from the centre, do not deviate – shock them!”
“Will it work?”
“Can you not see how easy it’d be to cleave them in twain from that direction? Send out the knuckle draggers first. Then your noble knights David and de Pfeffel with the horses. It will work, dear Zac. Fear not.”
A hail of deadly polling arrows showered us – a hammering of senseless death. For our red enemy was still too numerous to ignore long, even in disorder, their centre was holding up. Sadiq, their leader, was reforming the erstwhile noose around our necks – we had to face him now or it was all for nowt. No, I must go too this time. And with a heavy heart, I rallied the men for a most dreadful thrust. The red sea did not part; presently it faced us without so much as a ripple. Stillness.
"For London, reason and social progress!" went up the battle cry across the Labour ranks.
Heathen curs, oh Lord, how they mocked us! But brave Tories would not be cowed. A life of mortal torment – all for this chance – now or never.
"For Queen, Oxbridge and St George!" our own voices boomed in wrathful fervour. Then, akin to lithe hounds of war, we were unleashed, racing across the battlefield to glory, carnage and redemption. Boris cackled – a dervish of mace, horse and thunderous éclat; Dave waded in without any concern for danger too, and even when unhorsed and pinned to the ground, gnawed at Red Jezza’s heel until the end. Then came the screams…
The thin blue line quivered and in the parting rays of evening sunlight was undone. All was lost. The centre could not hold.
“Flee for your lives!” cried out a peasant voice.
Darkness. I could not recall fighting much or being struck or killing, but it came regardless. Where was I wounded? Why? I crumpled from my steed, it fell shortly after and did not rise again.
And so I lay there, my gangly bulk stretched out amongst the corpses of foe and friend alike. After what seemed like aeons my eyes flickered open once again, I could not move much, but there was time to think and speak my mind. The night would hear my blue confession. Like death itself she was a tender mother to all who lived and fought. She would not care for creed or deed or class; her warm caress would lull me back to sleep eternal.
"How did it come to this?" I asked the starlit sky above, hoping against hope another kindred soul yet lived. Silence. It is as I feared -- all cut down, the Tory army was no more. So many a good man and proud son of England. One true Scotsman too.
Again, I faced the moon. Alone. My childhood, in precious fleeting moments of happier carefree days, came into feverish view: the fields, the valleys and the blue sea – sweet Rhyl.
"How did it come to this?" Nothing stirred. A deathly chill ensnared my body, and there was nowt to do but pass into the shadows. And yet, as if by magic or divine will, my spine whipped and snapped into an arch. I was propelled upwards for one last gasp of earthly air, a tremor of unchained feeling drumming my heart’s terminal decline.
And in my bloodstained delirium, full of primal rage and bitter hatred, I roared a spiteful curse against all spinmeisters and the world, "I CROSBY THEE ALL TO HECK!"
Falling backwards, embraced by the night, once more the question came, “How did it come to this?” A tear rolled down my scarred cheek; vision fading.
And with my dying breath I implored the heavens.
"Take my soul to Rhyl... by the sea..."
Silence.
"Zac," came the whisper, "Rhyl is in Wales..."
Death.
And so I issued the order -- the voice had never once wronged me; a saint or devil -- I did not care which, if it brought victory on this fair day of May, I would be its eternal servant ever after. Then they came.
All around us, a tumultuous ocean of banners red, green and orange. Some unholy wretch also scribed "CISTA" on his shield -- whatever that meant, it did not bode well for my loyal knights enwrapped in blue. Oh, woe! Is that what veterans called a swing?
"Zac, deploy the mud trebuchets. Bring down a few minarets around them. It will work," another whisper.
I complied. The hacks at the back scurried, the ugly weapons were set up and let loose with much leaflet and great smear. For a time it seemed as if a boundless disorder would envelop our opponents.
“Anti-Semites among us,” someone shouted, “we must find them! Betrayal!” It was a confused commotion on their left flank and the right. Perhaps even a chance for us to seize this martial bull by its sharpened horns and turn the tide of battle yet…
“What say you, voice?”
“Profile racially, dear Zac. Wedge in firmly rightwards from the centre, do not deviate – shock them!”
“Will it work?”
“Can you not see how easy it’d be to cleave them in twain from that direction? Send out the knuckle draggers first. Then your noble knights David and de Pfeffel with the horses. It will work, dear Zac. Fear not.”
A hail of deadly polling arrows showered us – a hammering of senseless death. For our red enemy was still too numerous to ignore long, even in disorder, their centre was holding up. Sadiq, their leader, was reforming the erstwhile noose around our necks – we had to face him now or it was all for nowt. No, I must go too this time. And with a heavy heart, I rallied the men for a most dreadful thrust. The red sea did not part; presently it faced us without so much as a ripple. Stillness.
"For London, reason and social progress!" went up the battle cry across the Labour ranks.
Heathen curs, oh Lord, how they mocked us! But brave Tories would not be cowed. A life of mortal torment – all for this chance – now or never.
"For Queen, Oxbridge and St George!" our own voices boomed in wrathful fervour. Then, akin to lithe hounds of war, we were unleashed, racing across the battlefield to glory, carnage and redemption. Boris cackled – a dervish of mace, horse and thunderous éclat; Dave waded in without any concern for danger too, and even when unhorsed and pinned to the ground, gnawed at Red Jezza’s heel until the end. Then came the screams…
The thin blue line quivered and in the parting rays of evening sunlight was undone. All was lost. The centre could not hold.
“Flee for your lives!” cried out a peasant voice.
Darkness. I could not recall fighting much or being struck or killing, but it came regardless. Where was I wounded? Why? I crumpled from my steed, it fell shortly after and did not rise again.
And so I lay there, my gangly bulk stretched out amongst the corpses of foe and friend alike. After what seemed like aeons my eyes flickered open once again, I could not move much, but there was time to think and speak my mind. The night would hear my blue confession. Like death itself she was a tender mother to all who lived and fought. She would not care for creed or deed or class; her warm caress would lull me back to sleep eternal.
"How did it come to this?" I asked the starlit sky above, hoping against hope another kindred soul yet lived. Silence. It is as I feared -- all cut down, the Tory army was no more. So many a good man and proud son of England. One true Scotsman too.
Again, I faced the moon. Alone. My childhood, in precious fleeting moments of happier carefree days, came into feverish view: the fields, the valleys and the blue sea – sweet Rhyl.
"How did it come to this?" Nothing stirred. A deathly chill ensnared my body, and there was nowt to do but pass into the shadows. And yet, as if by magic or divine will, my spine whipped and snapped into an arch. I was propelled upwards for one last gasp of earthly air, a tremor of unchained feeling drumming my heart’s terminal decline.
And in my bloodstained delirium, full of primal rage and bitter hatred, I roared a spiteful curse against all spinmeisters and the world, "I CROSBY THEE ALL TO HECK!"
Falling backwards, embraced by the night, once more the question came, “How did it come to this?” A tear rolled down my scarred cheek; vision fading.
And with my dying breath I implored the heavens.
"Take my soul to Rhyl... by the sea..."
Silence.
"Zac," came the whisper, "Rhyl is in Wales..."
Death.
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I don't think the new Mayor is in any way an extremist, it was a silly move on the part of Zac's campaign to try and draw that link.
the reality is that Islam itself even in the 'moderate' context is quite dodgy at times so any Muslim in London going to reasonable size London Mosque could probably be loosely linked to some Muslim leader or other who's said something extremist or stupid - like preaching hatred against Ahmadi Muslims such as the shopkeeper stabbed in Glasgow by a fellow Muslim.
He's also committed to fighting against extremism and hopefully this can work both against the Britian First/EDL types and extremists Muslims - not just outright ISIS supporters but people preaching intolerance in general - antisemitism, homophobia, hatred of other groups etc..
would be interesting to see how his social housing policy works out - whether that actually reduces development compared to what Zac was proposing... could end up with providing social housing for the lucky few and not enough other development to deal with housing supply issues in the wider London market.
the reality is that Islam itself even in the 'moderate' context is quite dodgy at times so any Muslim in London going to reasonable size London Mosque could probably be loosely linked to some Muslim leader or other who's said something extremist or stupid - like preaching hatred against Ahmadi Muslims such as the shopkeeper stabbed in Glasgow by a fellow Muslim.
He's also committed to fighting against extremism and hopefully this can work both against the Britian First/EDL types and extremists Muslims - not just outright ISIS supporters but people preaching intolerance in general - antisemitism, homophobia, hatred of other groups etc..
would be interesting to see how his social housing policy works out - whether that actually reduces development compared to what Zac was proposing... could end up with providing social housing for the lucky few and not enough other development to deal with housing supply issues in the wider London market.
Soldato
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What happens to good old Boris now then?
Wow can't help but laugh, the butt hurt of right wing London is huge and confused today.
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Soldato
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MP->Vote Leave leader->cabinet position or PM's chair.