Wednesday, 23 July 2014
Who would have thought it? The ‘no-it-isn’t, yes-it-is’ affair of the so-called Trojan Horse plot to subvert Birmingham schools and prepare the way for nationwide anti-British propaganda and recruitment to a domestic jihad turns out to have solid foundations after all. If you have ever lived near an ‘islamic area’ you would not have needed the results of any form of inquiry to tell you what your gut screams out every time you leave England to enter any one of these little Pakistans. The sense of being in a foreign, primitive land is never worse when it is in your own country, in your own town.
Around the corner from me, the little mosque that raised a few eyebrows when it first appeared but otherwise caused no great fuss has suddenly sprouted an enormous steel frame adjacent to it that dwarfs the original structure. I fully expect, the next time I go home, it will be clad with an exterior that in no way blends in with the local architecture and for which, were it an extension to a long-established British family business premises, planning permission would not have been granted. The local property prices, still a long way behind their 2006 levels will begin to slide again and those who can do so will leave that foreign land to its invaders.
Years ago, the inheritors of large, landed properties sold off relatively small, prestige plots to individual builders in order to cover death duties and scale back on the staff. At least the new homes would be in keeping with the area and their inhabitants likely to make mostly positive contributions to the community. Nowadays, in the rush to cover Britain in concrete, the big house itself will be sold off to developers, flattened and thirty or more dwellings per acre will spring up, the only control on who lives in them being who can afford them. Money does not buy you class though, and as the local roads clog with commuters and the village school for the first time needs classroom assistants and special needs tutors, the bucolic past recedes into dim memory; another part of our precious culture gone forever.
Of course, the ex-owners of the big house are not here to see it. From their yacht in Cannes all they can see is a rosy-hued world from behind the optimistic spectacles of wealth. But for those left behind the only option is to suck it up or leave. From cities we call it white flight, as it’s the old working classes who are least able to fight back and most likely to be branded racists by the likes of Liam 'we spent all the money' Byrne, a member of the very government that accelerated the process. The Birmingham cabal openly spreads propaganda that the Lee Rigby murder didn’t happen, that 9/11 was a Zionist plot, that MI5 carried out the 7/7 attacks… and yet, from the big house in Westminster, Byrne calls the current administration ‘divisive’.
Board up a few windows, knock down that wing,
add a minaret or two and some loudspeakers...
We'll have the place fucked up in a jiffy
I’ll tell you, Liam, what I’d like to divide. I’d like to divide the ruling elites from the wealth that separates them from reality. I’d like to divide up their time in such a way that they are forced to daily confront the misery they have inflicted on their supposed constituents and I’d like to be there to see the day it dawns on them that those they have encouraged to ignore the civilised customs of this sceptred isle, this happy breed of men, this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, would happily see their heads divided from their bodies.