The Problem With Exaggeration

Well, it was a long shot and, as noted in the comments, doomed to failure. Stinking freedom thieves have no honour or morals.

In fact, sometime during my interminable Friday afternoon crawl round the M25 thanks to rubber-necking airheads at Junction 18, and probably around the time I was ripping one of the little Puddlecotes's** (the girl) Leona frigging Lewis CD out of the stereo and flinging it against the rear windscreen in irritated frustration, Labour were doggedly resisting the blasphemy of liberal-ish anti-scaremongery from a Nutt.

The Blind Cyclist has an excellent piece on this, and other cases, of Government ploughing their own furrow no matter the view of their advisers. Particularly this.

So it’s difficult, almost impossible, in fact, to imagine how Johnson could be concerned that these remarks aren’t “matters of evidence”. Clearly then, the Home Sec is defenestrating the poor prof because his rational, scientific approach conflicts with the approach the government wishes to take. Johnson is eager to leave us in no doubt that this is the case

I cannot have public confusion between scientific advice and policy and have therefore lost confidence in your ability to advise me as Chair of the ACMD

This is bad. This is in fact very, very bad indeed. Because it means that the government of the United Kingdom is happy to operate as though it were living in some fucked up fantasy land of imaginings (not unlike someone who is ripped off their tits on drugs, in fact) rather than actually dealing with reality as it is. Did I mention that this is bad?

Indeed. And while cradling a blissful cold brew in my hotel bar, gently soothing the horror of the journey. A glorious example of Labour fuckwittery was played out before my very eyes.

Two large plasma screens on each side of the room, both muted, were tuned to BBC News 24 and some music channel respectively. On one, was Prof Nutt silently gabbling away in a live link from London, with the ticker quoting thus.

"Nutt: Government overstating the dangers of cannabis for political reasons"

And at the same time, in an ad break on the other screen.



QED.

It struck me, though, that a clash with someone like Nutt was inevitable the moment Labour began to hugely exaggerate in other areas.

We have seen cherry-picked, rent-seeking data on smoking. Multiplied and manipulated to create huge relative risk at the behest of Labour-paid fake charities and righteous quangoes, the result being that smoke is now perceived as more dangerous than Sarin gas.

Similarly, the same process, also paid for by government, is advising us that more than one glass of wine a day is akin to bathing your liver in sulphuric acid, to tackle the 'fact' that "... alcohol consumption has been rising rapidly in recent years ...", as this graph of ONS male and female consumption figures clearly shows.


Little wonder, then, that Nutt, who I presume was conducting research on drugs (he being the drugs guy, and all that), not alcohol and tobacco, concluded as he did, considering he will have placed his results alongside studies from other fields to come up with his risk rankings.

Compared with some of the most comprehensive and heavily-funded demonisation initiatives in modern times, it's no surprise he found cannabis and ecstasy to be relatively harmless when set alongside the wild hysterical shrieking of the anti-alcohol, and tobacco control, lobbies.

With the whole fuss making Labour appear bloody stupid (which they, of course, are), entirely motivated by personal prejudices (which, of course, they are), and unable to call off the smoke-hating and temperance society attack dogs, they will instead likely fall back on spin and lies to turn the argument.

Even as we speak, I suspect there are trusty, favourable boffins being tasked with coming up with new studies to 'prove' that taking cannabis turns your piss radioactive; a tab of ecstasy will make your brain explode when you fart; and that sniffing a line of coke will instantly vapourise the Brazilian rain forests, while simultaneously ripping the fabric of time itself to unleash a rampaging family of velociraptors into your home to pull your innards out, while Zammo from Grange Hill sings 'Just Say No' outside your front door, backed by the massed ranks of William Wallace's bagpipers.

Wow! That was some good shit I just smoked.

** Bloody apostrophe hell, again.