And he came forth from behind the shattered door, a man, stepping out onto the pavement. He dragged his lame withered limbs along the ground, through the broken glass, past the blown-out shop fronts. He stood, below a heavy dying sun and drew a breath, his final breath. He knew at that moment it was the end, the end of species, the end of Homo Cosmicos.
No I haven’t become a cringe-worthy fantasy writer and you haven’t clicked on the wrong link. I’m here to discuss the Liberal. As I do not wish to offend by continuing to classify the Liberal as only male and after some deliberation and a little help, I have settled on the term Homo Cosmicos (the Cosmopolitan).
Thursday 8th December 2016, the date the Giraffe was included onto the official list of endangered species. This date could also have seen the addition, on that very same list of The Liberal – Homo Cosmico, for they have faltered but unlike the Giraffe this is due its own paralysis and apathy.
But where did it all go wrong, when did the Liberal become complacent? From Peterloo to Mark Duggan, the crowd have always been subdued and taught to obey, betrayed by their leaders and Liberals alike, their anger and frustration has been bottled up, stowed away. Real change and real improvement is not on their horizon. The wasted years not only created gleaming city scapes and sparkling toys but also a swell of disenfranchised, under educated, underfunded, debt-ridden slaves.
Or am I wrong? Was is in fact 1969, the moment when Rupert Murdoch and shock-jockey media firmly planted its jack boot onto these shores that the Liberal started its retreated into well upholstered bubbles. The downtrodden masses now given their unfaithful mouthpieces, have been castrated, exploited for easy votes and landslide majorities. They have been fattened-up on a diet of lies, red-tape, migrants, bureaucrats, anti-experts and untruths.
Oh what a glorious culmination, 2016, when left and right united around pundits to free themselves from their serfdom.

Since then a vacuum, a void, a vail has fallen across nations and the spores of ignorance and hatred have bloomed. Like all hatred, there needs to be a target. The people have been beguiled and see that target as Homo Cosmicos, otherwise known as Snowflake, Libtard, Crybaby and Bremoaner. Labelled as the enemy of the fourth estate, the killing field of values. Homo Cosmicos has become the sponge absorbing the anger of the people, too abstract to be understood, too moralistic to fight back.
Yet six months have passed since the revolution, our independence day and the UK has not even taken up its place on the starting blocks. With no plan to fire the gun until mythical March. So why are we not rioting, why are we not calling for reform? Because 2016 will be but a footnote of history, we have been manipulated, divided and quelled. We won’t get what we want, we never get what we want. Our masters have found new weapons of suppression, not the sword or the cannon but confusion, division, misinformation and hate.
So, when Homo Cosmicos has drawn its last breath, what next, who next for the tinder box? I fear that due to the demise of Homo Cosmicos we are blindly, ignorantly laying the foundations of our own destruction and unlike the London riots of 2011 there will be no-one left to sweep up the broken glass.
