Once upon a time there was a country to which the whole world looked for inspiration. While foreign natives rent their garments, shrieked in unstifled dismay at the smallest loss and wept uncontrollably for months in bereavement the stoic moustaches of the British Empire sat unquivering upon the stiffest of lips. There is a reason Rudyard Kipling’s ‘If’ is quoted to this day as the ultimate response to a world of uncertainty and doubt. “Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!”
For many generations there was no finer sight than that of a man in a British military uniform, evoking passion and pride, nostalgia for the fray, memories of genuine camaraderie and most of all reassurance that the established order was being maintained and traditions observed. That man, those men, they stood for all that we did and furthermore they were prepared to place their own lives in peril that others may peacefully enjoy all that our long history had granted us.
It was a partnership and while some fretted about our dependence on Winston Churchill’s ‘rough men’ to keep us safe there was hardly a family in the land in which I grew up without connections in the armed forces. National service, simple tradition or just a yen to serve, a spell in ‘the mob’ was an experience that would stand out honourably in any curriculum vitae. As a rite of passage the experience was not only recognised but encouraged; army life sorted out many a wayward and aimless youth and thousands who served nought but their compulsory two years still regarded it as the making of them. In particular it made them British.
So how far and how wide of the plot have we travelled that just one week after the Battle of Britain was commemorated across the nation a modern-day RAF sergeant attending hospital in uniform was hidden from sight because hospital workers claimed they didn’t want to upset people as they “have lots of different cultures coming in”. This is just one in a series of such stories. Yesterday a caller to LBC told of his experience being abused on Britain’s streets for wearing his uniform.
Uniform is a symbol of belonging to something; some cultures insist that 50% of the entire population dress the same – the burka is an aggressive symbol of subjugation. But now the symbol of belonging to the former pinnacle of western civilisation is seen as somehow provocative? The pursuit of the new political holy grail of multiculturalism trumps all attempts to retain monoculture, except where that culture is not indigenous. That is all sorts of fucked up, right there. But, you know what else is provocative? I’ll tell you:
British sensitivities being side-lined in favour of an invading force of productive islamic wombs. Ignoring the systematic gang rape and trafficking of white girls in Rotherham and elsewhere for fear of being branded racist. Tiptoeing around dangerous cults practising the mutilation of their own young girls because of a misguided ‘respect’ for culturally appropriate torture. Allowing unrestricted migration of unidentified, openly hostile hordes of African and Middle Eastern fighting-age men in Europe but criticising those who fear them. These things are truly provocative.
The hospital has, apparently apologised for its actions, but only because of the outrage it caused. Too little, too late in most books. But it won’t end there. Not content with attacking any form of debate around immigration as racist and attempting to criminalise any action or speech deemed ‘unhelpful’ to the political project of breaking down national identities, there is now a new potential crime of micro-aggression waiting in the wings to serve its warped masters. It was bad enough when anything you said could be taken down and used in evidence against you; now any reaction you have to any situation could be misconstrued as a form of assault. Attempt to avoid making a race gaffe? That’s racist. Ask how to pronounce a foreign name properly? Could be micro-aggression. Stare a fraction of a second at the only ‘different’ member of the group? Hate crime. It’s only a matter of time before somebody gets arrested for breathing inappropriately.
Brownies? Even the name is racist!
So, while we still have time and before any form of jingoism becomes a crime in itself, set those top lips a-quiver and sing A Song of Patriotic Prejudice even as they drag you away to the re-education camp. “The English, the English, the English are best. I wouldn’t give tuppence for all of the rest!” You are going down, whitey!
Milord , I hate the fifth column in this country that do the work of the dismantling the culture and traditions of this country more than I hate the foreign interlopers with veils ! They are race traitors as shown by the example of that nurse who felt that a British Army Uniform would "upset" other cultures and we all know what culture she was thinking of.ReplyDelete