Northern people's grim lives in the 1960s again - the genre that helped destroy British cinema and turned the nation of Powell & Pressburger, David Lean, Hitchcock, and working-class comedies into a left-wing printing press, leaving only James Bond (defender of the Queen) as crumbs for the proletariat.

Kenneth Charles Loach, educated at King Edward VI Grammar School in the Midlands, was a Labour Party member from the early 60s until they kicked him out in the 21st century for being too left-wing. And with this, Ken cottoned onto the socialist misery-porn genre that could keep him in business for decades, and eventually earn him the working-class prize of the Palme d'Or.

Ken has said the kestrel this northern lad tries to tame represents the broken dreams of the prole who can never soar like an eagle because there's a two-tier education system. That those who didn't get into posh grammar schools (like him) because they failed one exam at the age of 11 were apparently destined to be savage trogs working in the Yorkshire mines like the Morlocks from HG Wells' Time Machine, only coming out at night to drink and screw. Ken must be happy Thatcher closed down all the mines then, sparing us from that fate. The bleak fate of this film no longer exists, which rather dates the plot. I should also add that Ken's opinion of the working class is so low he chucks in the "single parent" and "poor people waste their money gambling" tropes too.

However, thanks to patronising movies like this, things are even worse because there's multiple tiers or sets at secondary school now. Thickos aren't even allowed to sit the same exams anymore in case they escape their lives of cannabis and free pornography. The government didn't get rid of Grammar schools - they blended them into the state-school deck. The difference between being in the top tier and the lowest at the same school is the difference between a prison riot and a Cambridge river punt. Ken’s political outrage made things worse.

But why would he care? Ken mocks the working class so much he won't even make those in charge the root of the problem. Guess who actually crushes the lad's dreams of being a full-time hawk trainer at the end? His big nasty working-class thuggish brother of course! They're not the enemy… your own brother is the real enemy. Report him to the authorities and preserve the Ingsoc way. Loach, like so many of these champagne socialists, makes the poor their own enemy.

Loach can get lost - do gooders wreck cinema and lives - and Sad Northern People Crying is just weaponised despair.

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