Monday, 24 June 2013
Beds in Sheds
Admiral of the Fleet Sir Caspar John was advanced to Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath in 1960 and served as First Sea Lord from 1960 until his retirement in 1963. Mention his name to any Royal Naval officer, however, and it will evoke the memory of soporific sessions in the theatre and lecture hall at Britannia Royal Naval College named in his memory. Caspar John Hall was normally referred to as CJH, or for tired trainees grabbing an opportunistic forty winks, the Zed Shed. (The lights go down and two-hundred sleepy heads begin to nod... it’s almost like a drill.)
Meanwhile, today in Slough a military-style airborne endeavour has been in operation for some time to root out its disproportionate share of literal zed sheds. On Nick Ferrari’s morning radio show this ongoing story produced plenty of angry responses. People sleeping in sheds is a long-term problem in Slough as in many places elsewhere in the UK with exploitation of hordes of often unregistered and uncounted denizens. This sort of barbarous arrangement is so far removed from traditional, civilised, British behaviour that it must surely be illegal to draw attention to it.
So, bollocks to that. The people of Slough have been aware of literally thousands of illegal and/or exploited immigrants, living in secret and in a squalor that probably reminds them of home. These people contribute nothing to British society yet place an enormous burden on services for which others pay. But years of reporting such alien transgressions by people with unacceptable and repulsive white skin has been met by a system that strenuously denies there is a problem. Back in the cold war days, Americans used to refer to reds under the bed. Now here in Britain we have the reds encouraging beds in sheds.
There is an entire industry devoted to denying the problems that multiculturalism has brought to these shores, formerly so robustly defended by Caspar John and his Jolly Tars. Were it possible, Hearts of Oak would be breaking asunder in their watery graves. Whatever happened to our identity and our collective security? How have we become so low that we dare not prosecute our own laws for anxious fear of offending people who have no such compunction in our direction?
"Come friendly bombs and rain on Slough"