So a Nigerian man is jailed for hoarding faeces. The headlines scream of British environmental health standards being upheld. But let us not be so smug, dear reader. This is not a triumph of sanitation. It is a parable of our age: a civilisation drowning in its own filth, both literal and metaphorical. The man, alas, is a symptom, not the disease.
We pat ourselves on the back for our rigorous public health laws. A man in Lagos might have been laughed off, but here in Blighty, we have order. Yet look closer. The man’s home was a cesspool, true. But what of our mental landscapes? We hoard meaningless data, consume toxic news, and pile up grievances like so many unflushed turds. The Victorian sanitary reformers would weep. Not because we lack hygiene, but because we have swapped physical filth for spiritual decay.
The Nigerian gentleman, in his squalor, is a mirror. We are all hoarders now. Some hoard money. Others hoard hate. A few hoard virtue signals. The result is the same: a civilisation that cannot let go, that chokes on its own refuse. Our environmental health standards are pristine on paper. In practice, we are drowning.
Do not congratulate yourselves. This is not a victory for British values. It is a reminder that the empire of order is crumbling, and the barbarians are not at the gate. They are inside our heads, defecating on our souls.
