And lo from the east came three wise men. Wise, for they
knew that in the west their every demand would be met. Followed they the twelve
shining stars until the land that is milk and honey revealed itself in the form
of fiction-free handover arrangements between the people traffickers of old
Galilee and the world AD (Africa Depopulated). Their cups runneth over and
their fatted calves be slaughtered, for none in the new world would lift a hand
to stay their every desire.
Came they to a stable. Well, a converted stable, in a
London mews, with no comfort save for central heating and a rent-free roof...
and a nearby Starbucks. And they saw that it was good. And so it came to pass
that the magi ended their long journey with gifts of gold, which caused the
neighbours to be frankly incensed and cry myrrh-der. Whence forth came such
ire, asketh they; and with such passive aggressive politeness? How little they
understood of this strange new land.
So it was that these three wise elders – though their new
passports identifieth them as children - sought out others of their kind to
spread the message of great joy through diversity. Soon they had gathered as
great and diverse a crowd as this island could provide and all within three
streets of the local foodbank. What wondrous world of plenty was this that could
feed and house so many and what sacrifice was made by the natives, many of whom
gave up their own homes thus to provide?
Answers came there none, but curiosity was piqued and
they sought out the truth, for it could be no accident that the stars had surely appeared
to them and to them alone. Asking a well-fed Somalian they were told that he
had three wives and three houses and the tributes paid due to his many offspring
each moon were four-score and many times his annual expectation in his home
country. Cameth them next upon a jolly Sudanese who regaled them with tales of
great comfort and joy, the state bringing forth bounty beyond all dreams.
“But where are all the native folk?” asked the magi, to
which came the reply “They’re all out at work!” And while they laughed and raised their
faces to the sky their gaze fell upon a great many banners and lights and
shining baubles. “What is this?” they asked, “Why is this miraculous land thus
adorned?” At which the Eritreans and the Ethiopians and the Ghanaians regaled
them with tales of an old man with a beard who bestowed his bounty on good
little children everywhere.
The wise men looked at each other, then grinned. They
broke out into belly laughter and hugged each other heartily. “Oh my!” spake
they and “Woot!” for great hilarity fell upon them . Eventually, after much
thigh slapping and gasping for breath the leader of the trio spake to the small
crowd. “Taketh us though for naïve, uneducated dullards? Thinketh that because
we are recently come from foreign lands we know not when we are being taken for
fools?
The onlookers knew not what to say; this was surely heresy,
for here in the land of Tower Hamlets, one gospel was preached above all
others. And wasn’t the evidence laying all around? They tried to explain their
word, in all sincerity but the wise man feared for their sanity. He sayeth “Pull mine other one, brother. We may have all just disembarked from the boat, but green
as we are, even we don’t believe in Jeremy Corbyn!”
What a joy it is to be looking forward to yet another new year of unbridled immigration. What a deep pleasure to be taxed into the ground to provide ever more for our newcomers. More especially for the one in our doctors the other day who marched past all us locals in the queue and shouted at the receptionist for an interpreter then banged on the desk and demanded to be seen by a doctor now! and of course all at my expense. Not forgetting the ones on our local bus who beat up a British pensioner for refusing to give them his seat because many others seats were free. And of course a happy new year to the foreign cafe owner in our town centre who put up a No English sign on his door. What a comfort it is to walk in our town centre and in spite of being able to get by in 3 European languages not to understand what is being shouted around the place. What a joy to live with the results of the vicious virtue signalling of those who never come to my town and live in the super expensive villages or in gated communities. Bless them all is all I can say because I am an older English man and I am at the bottom of every pile and at the back of every queue apart from the ones where fools like me are forced to pay for the whole lot of it.
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