Between the bridges, please welcome to the stage, Mr. Brendan O'Neill.

The chattering classes of this once great nation have yet again been all of a flutter this week.

Yes, the sourdough bakeries of Islington are teeming with bileful comments about

one thing and one thing only. Elon Musk's rebrand of Twitter to X.com. The Spanocopeter Spanish Civil

War reenactors of Hearn Hill would have you believe that Mr. Musk is some kind of idiot, despite his being worth $242 billion

of entirely real money that he could draw out of a bank at any time. The latest charge

that the Pecorino Posardists of Putney level at Mr. Musk is that his rebrand of Twitter from a website where you can post

tweets to X.com, a website where you can post Zetes, but also have a bank account and donate

blood, makes no sense. But as ever, the Bojolet Bardemey-Mindhoff of Haringay are short-sighted? Did any innovations make sense at first,

truly? Did the steamloom make sense to the masses? Did the Furby make sense? Did

cryptocurrency-based ape trading make sense? Their silence speaks volumes.

And yet, are we truly surprised that the vegan Viet Cong of Mornington Crescent don't want to widen access to banking in this way

when they are the very same people cheering on the plight of Nigel Farage?

When the international financial markets turned on Liz Trust, people laughed at the concept

of woke bankers, and yet here we are living in their world.

These lemongrass Leninists would have us believe that Nigel Farage can survive without an

account at Coot's private bank and instead open

account at one of their genderqueer affirmative action banks, such as HSBC.

But this is the thin end of the wedge. Perhaps the Maraschino Marxists of Camberwell would do

well to consider what if Nigel Farage was a single mother

on a low income whose lack of an account at Coots private bank caused them to be evicted by a toxic

landlord and yet they soldier on in their crusade to destroy working class innovators such as

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