Belfast Telegraph

Julie Burchill: Guilty or not, WikiMan Julian Assange is just another Leftie lothario

WikiLeaks chief Julian Assange
WikiLeaks chief Julian Assange

Unlike those broads who live on that bit of the Venn diagram where smug socialites overlap with weirdos who campaign for murderers on Death Row, I don't know if Julian Assange is innocent or guilty of being a sex-pest.

But I do know the WikiLeaks man is a wonderful thing in that he has given us an up-close-and-personal viewing of that rare bird, the Lefty Lothario, in all his tawdry glory.

“I like women from countries that have sustained political turmoil,” he wrote.

Oooo, what a catch. What did the Sex Pistols say about a cheap holiday in other people's misery?

Sounds like Assange fancies a sex tourism trip in other people's turmoil, the scamp. But calm down, white girl, 'cos he's not interested in you, you namby-pamby pampered princess — “Western culture seems to forge women that are valueless and inane.”

What do you bet he's one of those inane, valueless Western egomaniac men who can't stand the L'Oreal ads because they hate hearing women say “Because we're worth it”? Worth a bottle of shampoo? Whatever next? Before you can say “Stop it!” we'll be wanting to make one-night stands use condoms? And then it'll be anarchy.

Asked for the ‘most private thing’ he was willing to admit, Mr Assange said he had “Asian teen-girl stalkers”; if that isn't shorthand for “the hottest of hotties on the planet fancy me, so imagine how hot I must be” then I don't know what is.

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He ended by saying that women should contact him if they were “spirited, erotic, nonconformist”. Which sounds very much like a fancy-pants way of saying, “Will be prepared to let me do whatever I want with them.”

When Right-wing politicians and public figures act the sex pest, or the love rat, we expect it of them. Scratch a racist who talks about Bong-Bongo Land (such as Alan Clark) and you won't be surprised to find an old school rotter who ends up bedding two sisters and their mum while the wife sits at home stewing.

But when men have enlightened attitudes to issues of race or class, we fondly imagine that they will be similarly decent when it comes to a question of sex — though time and time again it has been proved that, just because you subscribe to the Brotherhood of Man, it's no guarantee that you can automatically find it in your heart to be nice to the ladies, bless 'em.

From Arthur Koestler's rape of Michael Foot's wife Jill, which she kept quiet for some 40 years, to John Mortimer chortling away about what a jolly good jape it was to defend wife-murderers, the Left has been complicit in some truly shameful misogyny which has led it to that very dark place where some alleged socialists now find themselves ready, willing and able to accept the most hideously gynophobic excesses of Islamism.

Some of it's just funny, though. Think of the silver-maned liberal barrister Michael Mansfield, banging on about truth and integrity with his wife and mistress installed in the same Manhattan hotel. Or George Galloway coming over all unnecessary on Al Jazeera in 2005, when his taste for exotic women and weakness for big scary dictators combined to produce the most extraordinarily florid interpretation of Middle Eastern politics: “Two of your beautiful daughters are in the hands of foreigners ... Jerusalem and Baghdad. The foreigners are doing to your daughters as they will. The daughters are crying for help and the Arab world is silent. Some of them are collaborating with the rape of these two beautiful Arab daughters ...’’

We're always told that Right-wing men are scared of/hostile to women, but that didn't stop the Conservatives from electing the first (only) female leader of a British political party. (Oh yeah, I forgot, Thatcher was ‘a man in drag’ — that pathetic Left-wing diss for a woman who wants more from political life than making tea and servicing whistle-blowers.) I don't know if Assange is a rapist or not, but I do know that he wouldn't be the first right-on comrade to have the moves of a frat boy at a keg party.

Assange groupies, mind how you go.

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