Russell Brand charged with further sexual offences including rape | UK news | The Guardian

4 comments

1. Tell me more about these allegations from over 20 plus years ago. Everyone who reads this stuff should also take the time to listen to Brands channel to familiarise yourselves with what he is shining a light on.

2. As Russell might put it

   Irrespective of whatever eschatological spreadsheet of guilt or innocence is eventually balanced by the wigged accountants of the judicial realm, Russell Brand now appears to wander the public square as a man spiritually concussed, as though struck squarely upon the crown by the same invisible, ideologically airborne brick that has felled so many of our era’s loudest and most self-anointed truth-tellers. It is the unmistakable head wound of the age: the kind that induces a florid certainty untroubled by evidence and a breathless conviction that one has peered behind the veil while everyone else is still admiring the curtain.

   Thus we find him reclining, not uncomfortably, in that drafty antechamber of unreason long occupied by David Icke, where everything connects to everything else provided one squints hard enough, and flirting earnestly with the filing-cabinet metaphysics and wellness-adjacent mysticism of Scientology, that bureaucratic cathedral to certainty for those allergic to doubt.

   His recent evangelical sprint toward a chest-thumping, algorithm-friendly Christianity—performed with the rhetorical gusto of a revival tent erected inside a podcast studio—has the unmistakable aroma of strategic sanctimony. One struggles to discern whether this is the trembling conscience of a man struck by sudden moral clarity, or the brisk, pre-emptive laundering of the soul before the jury’s gaze hardens. It is faith as press release; repentance as brand alignment; salvation with a monetisation strategy.

   And so he presents himself not as the hunted renegade he insists upon being, but as something far more theatrically contemporary: the poacher mid-costume-change, frantically sewing together the khaki of the gamekeeper while still clutching the snares. All the while, he exhales conspiracies of such overwrought baroqueness that they collapse under their own adjectival excess—sentences looping, spiralling, genuflecting, and finally expiring without ever quite touching ground.

   What we are witnessing is not persecution, nor prophecy, nor even heresy of the interesting kind, but reinvention under pressure: a man mistaking volume for virtue, verbosity for vision, and the echo of his own voice for revelation—confident, always, that if he keeps speaking long enough, meaning will eventually mistake itself for depth.

3. Imagine being one of those who, for whatever absurd reasons, was cheering him on not too many years ago. Who thought he was a decent, intelligent, talented, funny man.

   It’s always been blatant that he’s none of these things.

   It’s like all the idiots out there who fell for Johnson.

   It’s inexcusable.

4. Wasn’t he a good looking man at the peak of his career back when this happened?
   I’m not a fan, but I would side with innocent until proven guilty on this one…

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