That article… maybe she was hoping Rowling would give her an in with her publisher, as it’s clearly pure fiction Rosetta writes.
Either Rosetta will betray her principles for (let’s face it, a fairly small) profit; or she is simply racist, homophobic, ableist & as well as being anti-Semitic & Islamophobic is prejudiced against all minority religions. Yes, the article only directly referenced the LGBT population - but she made sure to labour the descriptions of equality & diversity monitoring forms & linked initiatives. The mediocre white man will doubtless salivate over this “proof” he is being done down like this - it’s true! They’re giving the jobs away! It doesn’t matter about the facts or reality, they’ve got a STORY by a JOURNALIST. And the protected characteristic that people think of first is race. This story is really saying “if you’re not white they just promote you over better-qualified harder-working white people to be politically correct”.
Writing for the gutter press would be aspirational when your lies would poison a sewer. How anyone could write an article designed to stir up hatred & aggression towards minorities - especially when claiming to belong to one of the minorities involved is beyond me.
Maybe Rosetta lives in such a nice place they’ve never seen [the aftermath of] a “qr-bashing” or “Pki-bashing” or otherwise experienced violence of the sort their work can engender. Young men whose heads are beaten in with iron bars simply for being suspected of “being a poof” may never recover. The government spend millions on security for Jewish schools & synagogues because there continue to be, tragically, very real threats against the Jewish community in this country. Suggesting that Jews get preferential treatment in the workplace - which this article implies - is not going to help make the UK safer for them.
”Oh no, I was only lying about the LGBT community & didn’t expect anyone to draw the blindingly obvious conclusions they were being pointed to…”? I mean, that’s still being pro-homophobia (& indeed transphobia) but it’s a lie so unconvincing as to be on a par with denials of cookie-theft by the crumb-covered, chocolate-smeared child apprehended with their hand once again in the jar.
Some rather better[-quality] fiction seems to be in order, really 🤷♀️
"If we only had something red," Peter repeated, "we could go round the corner and wave to the train."
^^
"We might wave, anyway."
^^
"They'd only think it was just US, as usual. We've waved so often before. Anyway, let's get down."
^^
They got down the steep stairs. Bobbie was pale and shivering. Peter's face looked thinner than usual. Phyllis was red-faced and damp with anxiety.
^^
"Oh, how hot I am!" she said; "and I thought it was going to be cold; I wish we hadn't put on our - " she stopped short, and then ended in quite a different tone - "our flannel petticoats."
^^
Bobbie turned at the bottom of the stairs.
^^
"Oh, yes," she cried; "THEY'RE red! Let's take them off."
^^
They did, and with the petticoats rolled up under their arms, ran along the railway, skirting the newly fallen mound of stones and rock and earth, and bent, crushed, twisted trees. They ran at their best pace. Peter led, but the girls were not far behind. They reached the corner that hid the mound from the straight line of railway that ran half a mile without curve or corner.
^^
"Now," said Peter, taking hold of the largest flannel petticoat.
^^
"You're not" - Phyllis faltered - "you're not going to TEAR them?"
^^
"Shut up," said Peter, with brief sternness.
^^
"Oh, yes," said Bobbie, "tear them into little bits if you like. Don't you see, Phil, if we can't stop the train, there'll be a real live accident, with people KILLED. Oh, horrible! Here, Peter, you'll never tear it through the band!"
^^
She took the red flannel petticoat from him and tore it off an inch from the band. Then she tore the other in the same way.
^^
"There!" said Peter, tearing in his turn. He divided each petticoat into three pieces. "Now, we've got six flags." He looked at the watch again. "And we've got seven minutes. We must have flagstaffs."
^^
The knives given to boys are, for some odd reason, seldom of the kind of steel that keeps sharp. The young saplings had to be broken off. Two came up by the roots. The leaves were stripped from them.
^^
"We must cut holes in the flags, and run the sticks through the holes," said Peter. And the holes were cut. The knife was sharp enough to cut flannel with. Two of the flags were set up in heaps of loose stones between the sleepers of the down line. Then Phyllis and Roberta took each a flag, and stood ready to wave it as soon as the train came in sight.
^^
"I shall have the other two myself," said Peter, "because it was my idea to wave something red."
^^
"They're our petticoats, though," Phyllis was beginning, but Bobbie interrupted -
^^
"Oh, what does it matter who waves what, if we can only save the train?"
^^
Perhaps Peter had not rightly calculated the number of minutes it would take the 11.29 to get from the station to the place where they were, or perhaps the train was late. Anyway, it seemed a very long time that they waited.
^^
Phyllis grew impatient. "I expect the watch is wrong, and the train's gone by," said she.
^^
Peter relaxed the heroic attitude he had chosen to show off his two flags. And Bobbie began to feel sick with suspense.
^^
It seemed to her that they had been standing there for hours and hours, holding those silly little red flannel flags that no one would ever notice. The train wouldn't care. It would go rushing by them and tear round the corner and go crashing into that awful mound. And everyone would be killed. Her hands grew very cold and trembled so that she could hardly hold the flag. And then came the distant rumble and hum of the metals, and a puff of white steam showed far away along the stretch of line.
^^
"Stand firm," said Peter, "and wave like mad! When it gets to that big furze bush step back, but go on waving! Don't stand ON the line, Bobbie!"
^^
The train came rattling along very, very fast.
^^
"They don't see us! They won't see us! It's all no good!" cried Bobbie.
^^
The two little flags on the line swayed as the nearing train shook and loosened the heaps of loose stones that held them up. One of them slowly leaned over and fell on the line. Bobbie jumped forward and caught it up, and waved it; her hands did not tremble now.
^^
It seemed that the train came on as fast as ever. It was very near now.
^^
"Keep off the line, you silly cuckoo!" said Peter, fiercely.
^^
"It's no good," Bobbie said again.
^^
"Stand back!" cried Peter, suddenly, and he dragged Phyllis back by the arm.
^^
But Bobbie cried, "Not yet, not yet!" and waved her two flags right over the line. The front of the engine looked black and enormous. It's voice was loud and harsh.
^^
"Oh, stop, stop, stop!" cried Bobbie. No one heard her. At least Peter and Phyllis didn't, for the oncoming rush of the train covered the sound of her voice with a mountain of sound. But afterwards she used to wonder whether the engine itself had not heard her. It seemed almost as though it had - for it slackened swiftly, slackened and stopped, not twenty yards from the place where Bobbie's two flags waved over the line. She saw the great black engine stop dead, but somehow she could not stop waving the flags. And when the driver and the fireman had got off the engine and Peter and Phyllis had gone to meet them and pour out their excited tale of the awful mound just round the corner, Bobbie still waved the flags but more and more feebly and jerkily.
^^
When the others turned towards her she was lying across the line with her hands flung forward and still gripping the sticks of the little red flannel flags…