Jane Eyre is a feminist rant by a deranged Marxist who hated her country.
The main character is Jane, a parentless yob being raised by Mrs. Reed, her respectably wealthy aunt. A servant named Bessie indoctrinates Jane with evil ideology by telling her socialist stories and by singing feminist songs to her.
One day, as a soft punishment for fighting with her entrepreneurial cousin John Reed, Jane’s aunt locks Jane in the red-room, a plush four-walled pad in which Jane’s Uncle Reed died. While lounging about Jane probably takes a load of party drugs and, believing that she sees her uncle’s ghost, shrieks like a banshee and has a bit of a tumble. She wakes to find herself being nannied by Bessie and the old-fashioned apothecary Mr. Lloyd like kids these days are nannied by social-workers/unionised teachers.
Mr. Lloyd, speaking a good deal of common sense, suggests to Mrs. Reed that Jane be shipped off somewhere where she won’t be a burden on the squeezed household and their servants. To Jane’s delight, Mrs. Reed concurs.
Once at the Lowood Free School, Jane gets her comeuppance for her vile girlishness and youth, finding that her life is far from the kind of five-star luxury British prisoners live in thanks to YOUR taxes. The school’s headmaster is Mr. Brocklehurst, a firm, principled, traditional disciplinarian inspired no doubt by Michael Gove’s political predecessors. Brocklehurst inspires students with his faith in austerity and self-reliance while using the school’s funds only on necessities such as bonuses for senior school governors.
At Lowood, Jane corrupts an innocent, defenceless young girl named Helen Burns, whose faith in the school’s divine mission displeases Jane’s radical Soviet egalitarianism. A massive typhus epidemic sweeps Lowood, spread by an influx of non-English-speaking pupils who drain the school’s resources, and Helen dies of consumption – truly a martyr to the virtue of English decency who should have a day in her honour. The epidemic, bungled by middle managers, also results in the tragic departure of Mr. Brocklehurst by attracting attention from jobsworth Ofsted inspectors.
After a touchy-feely liberal collective takes Brocklehurst’s place, Jane’s life gets all the more cushy as she rakes in luxuries like food and heating. She spends eight more years at Lowood, six as a feckless student and two as a teacher, brainwashing innocents on orders from her radical teachers union.
After ‘teaching’ if-that’s-what-you-call-it for two years, Jane yearns for new minds to twist. The absence of a welfare state forces her to get on her bike and get a governess position at a GEORGEOUS £6.5m manor called Thornfield, where she teaches a cheese-eating, garlic-breath French girl named Adèle (no relation to the national-treasure/thunder-thighs).
The prudish housekeeper Mrs. Fairfax frigidly rules the roost. Jane’s ever-suffering-thanks-to-labour-rights employer at Thornfield is a mysterious, impassioned man named after the safe Tory seat of Rochester, with whom Jane finds herself succumbing to her weak femininity and falling secretly in love.
Her butch biceps save Rochester from a fire one night, which he claims was started by a DRUNK member of the lower-classes named Grace Poole, but because Grace Poole continues to work at Thornfield, Jane concludes that there must be a SCANDALOUS CONSPIRACY that MUST be EXPOSED. Jane sinks into time-of-the-month-blues when Rochester brings home a curvacious, leggy blonde named Blanche Ingram. Jane expects Reckless Rochester to pop the question to Blanche just as this paper wishes Prince Harry would to [insert name here]. But in a SHOCKING TWIST Rochester instead pops it to Jane [!], who accepts despite her small female brain being overwhelmed.
The wedding day arrives. As Jane, wearing a STUNNING dress made exclusively by Coco Chanel’s grandmother, and Mr. Rochester, wearing a traditional suit that would dumbfound today’s young men prepare to go over the HMRC forms, the voice of Mr. Mason cries out that Rompy-Pompy Rochester already has a wife! Mason introduces himself as the BROTHER of that wife—a woman named Bertha. Mr. Mason dramatically declares that Bertha, whom Raunchy Rochester married when he was a young man in the Great and Glorious British Colony of Her Majesty’s Jamaica, is still alive. Red-faced Rochester does not deny Meddling Mason’s claims, but he explains that Bertha has gone Gazza and left Planet Sanity.
He takes the wedding party back to Thornfield, where they witness Bonkers Bertha Mason scurrying around on all fours and growling like a badger in need of being culled. Rochester keeps Barmy Bertha hidden on the spacious third floor of Thornfield and pays Grace Poole to keep the dangerous loon under control. Bertha was of course the real cause of the mysterious fire, as it is just plain common sense that the mentally ill have a perverted attraction to fire. Knowing that it is impossible for her to be with Rochester as marriage is the only decent option, Jane leaves and remains a singleton well into her early-20s.
Penniless because of her feminism and poor work ethic and hungry despite low-priced celebrity cook books, Jane is forced to sleep rough and beg for food like a tramp. At last, three charitable siblings who live in a manor take pity on her lifestyle choices and offer her temporary B&B accommodation. Their names are Mary, Diana (God rest her soul), and St. John Rivers, and Jane quickly weasels her way to becoming friends with them. St. John is a traditional Anglican clergyman, and he magnanimously finds Jane a job teaching, not knowing that Radical Jane would use this position of power to corrupt young minds.
St. John surprises her one day by declaring that her uncle, John Eyre, has kicked the bucket and has been able to leave her a large fortune thanks to low inheritance taxes, brought down by the Tories from all-time Whigh highs. When Jane asks how he received this news, as it wasn’t in the Daily Mail – the only paper worth reading, he SHOCKS her further in a SHOCKING SHOCK by declaring that her uncle WAS ALSO HIS UNCLE: Jane and the Riverses are cousins. True to her Marxist ideology, Jane immediately decides to share the wealth equally with her newfound relatives in as evil an act as Stalin ever performed.
St. John decides to travel to India to spread the Good Word of the English, Anglican, Caucasian, Heterosexual God, and he urges Jane to accompany him as his wife so the marriage tax allowance can offset ‘green’ travel taxes. Jane agrees to go to India despite all the ethnics living there, but refuses to marry her cousin because she does not ‘love’ him. St. John pressures her to overcome a woman’s natural intellectual limits and reconsider, and she nearly does the right thing. However, like [insert celebrity here], she realises that she cannot abandon forever the man she truly wants to drain financially when one night she pops some pills given to her by a Pakistani GP and hears Rochester’s voice calling her name over the little green space that won’t be destroyed by HS2.
Jane hurries back to Thornfield and finds that its housing market value has been wiped out as it has been burned to the ground by Batty Bertha Mason, who got what was coming to her and died in the fire. Reckless Rochester saved the zero-hours servants but lost his eyesight and one of his hands, enabling him to sponge off the hardworking taxpayer on a life of benefits. Jane travels on to Rochester’s new council residence, Ferndean, where he lives a life of lavish luxury with two servants paid for with money that could have gone to YOUR NAN.
At Ferndean, Rochester and Jane rebuild their relationship – documented thoroughly on the Sidebar of Shame – and soon do the right thing and marry. At the end of her story, Jane writes that she has been married for ten years on the dole and that she and Rochester enjoy perfect equality in a vision of pure feminist hell. She says that after two years of blindness, Rochester regained sight in one eye and was able to behold their first son at his birth before he was taken away by interfering social workers.