Friday, 24 March 2017

The Old Ones

Well, as expected, yesterday’s social media was a full-on anti-nazi fest with apologists shouting down the natural fears expressed by non-muslims everywhere. Celebrate the glories of multiculturalism, why, even the victims were diverse! Yes, get used to female genital mutilation, sharia, shitting in curries, slaughtering animals the Stone Age way and talking of stones... While we’re about it, say hi to the Notting Hill Stabbing Festival and end outmoded practices which identify as being English, such as rubbing along and making do and not randomly killing innocent bystanders. Welcome diversity and fuck you, the English.

We must come together, goes the rallying cry, apparently utterly unaware that the thin skin of ‘vibrancy’ hides a seething mass of incompatibility. But where do we start; is this the slippery slope to a, monocultural uniformity? You’d think the socialists would love all that though, wouldn’t you? Identical economic units in Mao suits with an even, grey pallor to match, breeding from an extra shallow gene pool. But we couldn’t turn the clock back even if we tried. We won’t rise up and expel the ‘other’ because, well, it just wouldn’t be British, would it.

Mind you, the concept of nationhood, despite its recent resurgence, is firmly in the cross hairs of the global socialist project and the flock of frisky spring lambs know that those flying the flags have only limited years left. Memories of former glories fade with each passing year and soon enough those horrible old people will die out and take their 'divisive' beliefs in fair play, winners and losers and accountability for their actions with them. But while there’s still breath in the body, we old gits struggle on.

To that end, it’s important to keep fit and two old fellas I know were out in the park the other day. The eighty-year old was resting on a bench, half way through his morning stroll when his 87-year old friend sat beside him. He’d just finished a two-mile run. The younger man said “How do you do that? I’m out of breath just tying my shoelaces these days. It makes me tired just watching you!” The 87-year old said, "Well, I start out with stretches and breathing exercise, but I also have a secret weapon... I eat Jewish rye bread every day.”

The younger man was intrigued and listened intently as his friend carried on. “It keeps your energy levels high and you'll have great stamina with the ladies, if you see know what I mean. I’m telling you, you'll feel like 40 again!” So, on the way home the 80-year-old stopped at the bakery. As he was looking around, the assistant asked if he needed any help. "Do you have any Jewish rye bread?” he enquired.


She indicated below the counter and said “Yes, we have a new batch in, freshly baked. Would you like some?” He smiled and said, “Could I have five loaves, please.” The shop assistant looked surprised and replied “My goodness, five loaves! By the time you get to the third one, it will be hard.” The old man looked at her and blinked in astonishment. He exclaimed, “I can't believe it. Everybody knows about this shit but me!”

Thursday, 23 March 2017

London Falls?

What do you say about yesterday? Plenty of people, while the events were being headlined around the world - islamic style, out-of-the-blue vehicle attacks on innocent people and the stabbing of a policeman by a man with an islamic beard in the pattern of all the other recent atrocities perpetrated in the name of islam - were urging us not to jump to conclusions.

Then the usual concerns were voiced that islamic communities needed to be protected against reprisal attacks, or worse, harsh words. Lots of whining comments were raised in support of 'British muslims' and no doubt we will see victim support going out to those same communities while commentators take to the airwaves to explain how this is nothing to do with islam.

I have said it repeatedly, prompted by seeing the progressive, self-created ghettoisation of islamic communities from many decades ago. Then seeing the government-inflicted acceleration of utterly unwanted segregation caused by unchecked immigration from worthless countries; immigrants who come only to take and then to breed and impose their own culture above that of those they displace.

Parts of Britain are no longer British. Millions of the population have no love of this country and play no part in it. The longer it goes on the more secure they feel, the more entrenched. And as muslims gain ever more influence in public office there is a genuine sense of retreat in those who are supposed to protect us from harm. Even when their hate-preachers openly declare death to the west and the supremacy of islam by violent means, our governments stand helpless.

It is not enough to react to events we were powerless to prevent. It is time our leaders were grown up enough to question the fairy-tale invention of multiculturalism and realise that while some of you shining examples of human evolution are capable of denying the truth, the rest of us are too stupid to believe that lie. Diversity is not strength, it is weakness, the fracture lines running along cultural divides. And not everybody can hold two allegiances or more as equally important.

London, yesterday. This is islam.

So, once again, I conclude there really is no such thing as a 'British muslim'. You are a national of the country which houses, feeds and protects you and with which you identify, or you are a muslim who denounces all of that in favour of a primitive superstition which tells you to treat all others as dirt. It's time for some hard decisions to be made; are you with us, or against us? And if you don't speak out and leave your cult you make it absolutely clear which one it is.

Wednesday, 22 March 2017

Last blast

To hear the eulogies echoing through the chamber of righteousness where the lefties go to hear the correct, party-approved and handily sloganised opinions, Martin McGuinness was a saint. When news of his death was broadcast yesterday it came with a soothing blanket of platitudes about a ‘man of peace’, as if stopping being directly involved in violence was the same as renouncing it, expressing remorse and confessing his sins. Being dead does not balance the account, it just erases the slate.

From an English perspective, having grown up during some of the worst atrocities, the solution was always simple – let Ireland have the north and be done with it. But as always, things are never as simple as they ought to be. We say two wrongs don’t make a right but, tediously often, tit-for-tat attrition is the only way humans can ever really ‘negotiate’. Keep up the terror, wear each other out until eventually only extinction or a handshake is left as an option. Both sides losing is somehow more palatable than either side being able to claim victory.

It has to be the same in the Middle East for the non-combatants. As with all sectarian conflicts – sunni versus shia, catholic against protestant, Arabs and Jews, communist against capitalist and on and on; goodies versus baddies with external onlookers unable to distinguish which is which. Occasional events my prompt a short-lived sympathy for the apparently wronged side but soon the retaliatory action turns sympathy into a helpless shrug and both sides are damned. Martyrs to one cause are murderers to the other and all the while the circus is both fascinating and repulsive at the same time.

These age-old conflicts don’t get resolved, they just get older. IRA activity affected much of Britain, with nowhere safe from, at times, almost daily bomb threats. For those of us who saw it all happening from the comfort of our television screens it was with a feeling of helplessness; we were never part of the fight and could never really understand it. But the violence hasn’t gone away; across Europe and the Middle East there is another sectarian war being waged and we have already become accustomed to daily reports of atrocities in the name of another set of beliefs we don’t understand and want nothing to do with. McGuinness was nothing new.

Northern Ireland... or Aleppo?

I don’t wish his family anguish or grief. I certainly don’t wish them the agonies he caused others. I don’t have a black, hate-filled hole where a heart should be. I just have a normal, biological heart, which patiently pumps life through my body and is a metaphor for nothing. I feel no joy that he has died, no satisfaction that he was relatively young. I feel nothing except a tiny sadness that he existed at all. But if it hadn’t been him it would likely have been somebody else; he was nobody special. He’s gone. Let his passing be marked appropriately; bury the body and forget he ever existed.

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Happy Birthday!

Theresa May names the day and what a day. John Major has of late resurrected himself – well nobody else was going to do it - as a contender for Remoaner-in-Chief, so it is apt that in recognition of the contribution he made to the momentous referendum decision, Article 50 is to be invoked and the intention to leave the EU made official on his 74th birthday. Perfect. This could become a recurring theme: On July the 25th, to coincide with Tim Farron’s 47th, in a neat bit of age-mirroring, we could maybe enact some far-reaching anti-EU legislation. And perhaps to celebrate Matthew Parris’ 68th the 7th of August could be the day we decide to send everybody packing?

After nine months of sniping it will be a blessed relief to finally get the wheels in motion. Precisely three weeks later, on the 19th of April, Gina Miller could raise a glass to celebrate her 52nd and wish the process well; after all, it is completely in line with the parliamentary democratic process via which she tried so hard to derail it. I can see a whole year of deliciously ironic anniversaries ahead. On December the 9th, two days after Anna Soubry Day, on which we could inaugurate the first annual EU flag burning ceremony, we could collectively bare our bottoms in the direction of Jean-Claude Juncker to remind him of his statement that no other countries would follow us out of the union.

This is, of course the same J C Juncker who in 2014 said, referring to the introduction of the Euro: “We decide on something, leave it lying around and wait and see what happens. If no one kicks up a fuss, because most people don't understand what has been decided, we continue step by step until there is no turning back.” He has never believed in trusting the people to decide, saying without any apparent shame that: “When it becomes serious, you have to lie.” Oh yes, Jean-Claude, we know. That’s why we know there will be others.

A date to remember!

In the white paper on Europe’s future, to be presented on the EU’s 60th birthday at the Rome summit on Saturday, there is not on shred of doubt that the EU will persist and that the remaining 27 will somehow stay together, come hell or high Euro. In other words, when the facts don’t fit the narrative, carry on lying. If, as the people at Gatestone believe, there may not even be a union left worthy of the name in a decade all this is moot. As usual we’ll watch events unfold with interest. But get cracking on that bunting because soon it will be the 23rd of June once more. An anniversary to really remember.

Monday, 20 March 2017

Two-minute Hate

After a week in which a long fought-for dream was reduced to rubble in just eighty minutes you would imagine England rugby followers would hate the Irish team for their outstanding performance. But that’s not how rugby fans roll. The Irish were roundly applauded and the losing side – for so long seemingly unbeatable, despite some very beatable starts – picked up their Calcutta Cup, their second Six Nations trophy in a row, their world-record-equalling eighteen straight wins – and went off for their bollocking from Eddie Jones. It may be more than a game, but in the end it really is just a game; no place for hate.

Hatred is such an extreme reaction to events, don’t you think? It’s an immature, teenage lashing-out, often against those who have only their best interests at heart. ‘Oh, I hate that!’ they say, when they really mean ‘that’s inconvenient’. True hate is a slow-cooked build-up of repressed animus, marinated for years and slowly brought to the simmer by repeated slights and prolonged ill-treatment. Hate is also personal, visceral. Countries don’t hate each other; one may fear the other nation, or even despise it, but hate is a tricky thing to control and has no place in civilised discourse.

Also, if your first recourse to show your disaffection is to use the word hate, where do you go after that? Don’t you hate exaggeration? Just as with all the ‘literally shaking right now’ tweets following the most insignificant of slights, it’s akin to putting all your cards on the table immediately following the deal. I ‘literally’ hate you, so there is literally no point in trying to discuss things with me; I am so far beyond reason and I hate you for putting me in that position. Hate is like slamming the door and stomping out... you look so much more foolish when you then have to go back and ask nicely for your car keys.

But I suppose hate does allow you to quickly segue into accusations of Nazism and thereby identify with the legions of brainwashed adolescents who believe anybody in a position of authority over them is, literally, Hitler. I find the best way to deal with being called a fascist is to smile sweetly and suggest I have to rush off to barbecue some babies, or gas some Jews. What’s sauce for the goose; at least it saves me getting into complex arguments where you have to find some bizarre middle ground before ‘agreeing to disagree’, which is, of course, mealy-mouthed code for ‘you are still wrong and I will go on believing I have won’.

A ready cleaving to the notion of hate also opens the door to the acceptance of more hyped-up hyperbole to further your incisive discourse. Instead of accepting that Trump and Brexit and Le Pen and Wilders are natural reactions to years and years of concerted left-wing attempts to browbeat people into behaving against their conservative instincts, idiots like Tim Farron have to leap to wild conspiracy theories about some New World Order to explain to themselves how they lost.


Bad losers, whose ‘progressive’ world view has been shown to fail, instead of accepting this and getting on with it are fomenting unrest. People like Farron, possibly in the sincere belief that they are right – which makes them dumb as well as dangerous – are going about, stirring up antipathy, encouraging others to believe themselves victims and take up cudgels against those who genuinely want a world for the many, not for the few. Don’t you just hate that?