Thursday 20 February 2014

Mewl Britannia

Sometimes I am ashamed to call myself British. Actually, for a couple of decades I have called myself English because that way I can feel even more shame according to successive governments and social commentators because the English are pariahs even within Britain – as the largest country in the union by a long way we carry the can for all of Britain’s outrageous actions over the centuries. Hey, who’s worried, we have broad enough shoulders, don’t we? No longer.

In the 1970s, Britain was often referred to as the sick man of Europe but it seems that long after that economic tag has passed to France we are determined to reclaim the accolade more literally. I’ve said for years that the NHS is its own worst enemy and a recent report illustrates how far the disease of the nanny state has spread, with patients turning up in A&E presenting symptoms of extreme stupidity. (My own ‘sister-in-law’ once went to casualty with a blister – I have never recovered from the shock of finding that out.)

The same kind of idiocy occurs with the emergency services in general with overstretched ambulance, fire and police crews being summoned by the telephonic incantation of the dyslexic devils number, 999, for the desperate circumstances of being trapped under a duvet. Or being ripped off by a takeaway. Worst of all is the utter lack of self-awareness demonstrated daily by the entitlement obsessed who appear to have never heard of the British stiff upper lip or what it means. In bygone days, empires quailed in front of that lip and were conquered on the mere bristling of a neatly trimmed military moustache. Now the British lip is more likely to be found quivering, while its owner mewls in the corner about ‘rights’.

When I was a kid we were inordinately and unashamedly proud to belong to the most respected country on earth. At least that is what we were told, but was that such a bad thing? Since then the cultural Marxist machine – Owen Jones is one of its most successful creations and without any awareness of having being manipulated from birth repeats the sacred mantras with fluency – has told us to be ashamed, to be helpless, to turn to the all-knowing state for our daily bread, for our news and even for our opinions.

One of the cornerstones of the project has always been to devalue the traditional family unit. Familial loyalty causes people to look after each other, rather than rely on the glorious leaders and so is to be denigrated. Well, it seems to be working if this latest report is to be believed; one in ten of Britain’s fathers doubts the paternity of ‘their’ children. It’s hard enough getting fathers to stay with their family in the first place without this promiscuous uncertainty. One of the reasons women can’t understand men is that we genuinely don’t feel the way they do about children, especially other men’s children.

Britain, man the fuck up

So, no paternal figure, no traditional authority and the rise of the cult of the child. Patriotism is racism, self-reliance is greed and the Britain I was so optimistically raised in is gone forever. Multiculturalism will seal its fate and condemn Britain to dusty history and when we are just another region of Europe, our traditions harmonised and homogenised and licensed by the state the sunlit uplands of the socialist dream will have been achieved. Not by conquest but by the quiet acquiescence of a population never allowed to fully grow up. Infantile Britannia, good little Peter Pan-Europeans, all.


  1. The hilarious thing about all this is that The Plan For Human Domination by the left has never worked, and has every sign of never going to work. No matter how hard the left 'tries' the end result is always a mess of conflict and failure spiced with misunderstanding and ineptitude.

    People resolutely remain people with their own views and ideas and tastes, and the left doesn't like it. Doesn't like it one little bit, though hardly surprising as traditionally the left despises people.

    Still, the effort must be made to change people to.... well, not sure. They aren't sure either, but having them changed is all that matters.

  2. I looked at this today. So far removed from whjat we have become - or made to become.

    It's truly depressing that after the striving of our forbears that we have to come to our present state.

    1. Wow! Thank you for that Harry.

      All gone now. I wonder what they would think if they could see now what we've thrown away.

    2. Got your tweet. Thanks and my pleasure.

      They would be sick considering their sacrifices. Contrast that with Benefits Street!

      When I look back on my youth (60's - 70's) the world was full of hope despite difficulties. Birmingham was a great place. Full employment where I lived (in the shadow of the Austin) and most of all a sense of community, progress and a link between the generations. Now that seems to have gone. Trad families, streets that were neat, gardens trimmed, cars washed on Sunday, pub teams, kids playing in the streets/parks/woods. Now all degraded or gone. The rot had set in just as the working class seemed to be entering a better age.

      I have wondered if it is just a feature of getting older but last night I was talking to some of the lads in my local about a series called the Rotters Club about Birmingham in the 70's and even they were reminiscent of those days - despite not even being born then but conscious of what has been lost to them..!

    3. Yes,you're right. The difference WAS hope. With parents who remembered the war, anything was going to be better. But prosperity brought complacency and the New Labour promise of prizes for all swayed the newer generations who had grown up with all that promise to throw it away for a handful of beans.

      Reap what ye sow. The magic money trees failed to materialise and now we have a couple of generations who don't understand the freedom of self reliance and the joy of doing something for yourself.