On Sounding Intelligent - A Response To Classist Katie Hopkins

My name is Katie Hopkins, sounds intelligent right?

I know how to assess intelligence, no I don’t know what eugenics is!

I have never needed to empathise with marginalized people, I’m white and upper class, and ok, I’m a woman but I work extremely hard.

You assess intelligence by names.

If your son is called Wayne or Rio your families idea of "quality time"

is a sofa, a TV football game and a whole in season of drug, alcohol and domestic abuse.

That is not the kind of time you can collect and weave an honest £300,000 a year, that is hard polishing! what would someone named after a city know about that?

This doesn’t apply to the fact the father of my children is called Damien.

I’m Katie-pearl-wearing-Hopkins, 

I am held together by privilege, 

I am afraid of people that don’t have what I have 

because I assume that they want what I have, 

who wouldn’t want what I have? 

I am shining on my wrists and earlobes.

I am not interested in an all inclusive society because complicated social issues make me feel inadequate, they remind me that we do not live in a society that properly rewards its teachers, its nurses, its youth and social workers – you know, people who will never live up to my definition of success. 

Yes, I can imagine a girl called Cheyanne becoming a worthless nurse, or a Bricklaying boy called bobby, I mean who the hell wants to care for other people, build things for other people?

Not me, not my family, not anyone I choose to associate with – I don’t want to help people that can’t help themselves.

I want to be around people who understand my way of life, who understand that, I do not have time to educate myself about three dimensional human beings when I’m busy being a free-born capitalist.

Yes, everyone in the world ought to be assessed by the name that came to the mind of parents when they were pulled from their mothers, covered in blood and faeces. Being poor, uneducated, unemployed and living in a council estate, claiming benefits is a choice!

You see, our names are the labels that stick our noses above the poverty line.

YOU'RE FIRED! (by a man named Allen too)