Give Generously...

Those currently dying out may have been the best of us. They will certainly be the last of the British as we knew them. My parents and their contemporaries survived the last war as children, grew up with rationing, expected to be given nothing and were grateful for the opportunities to get ahead. Grammar schools and further education increased their aspirations and the revolutionary welfare state project promised cradle-to-grave protection. They reared their children and grandchildren through the turmoil of the sixties and seventies, to emerge into the great wealth boom and optimism of the eighties.

They were the first generation of working people to own their own homes en masse and saw their children do likewise. Their grandchildren, however, are less likely to become secure homeowners. Despite the uncertainty of the Cold War they lived through the longest period of peace for many years and paid into a system which has given them a retirement their own parents could only have dreamed of. The closer ties to our European neighbours seemed on the whole positive, except for the meddling, but that appeared to be purely political wrangling and nothing to do with everyday life. They expected to go gentle into that good night and those who already did have been spared.

But those who cling on must be mortified at the scenes that permeate the news channels, day in, day out. They see a wall to wall apocalypse in the form of hundreds of thousands of people ‘not like us’ against whom the supposed unity of the European Union appears helpless and clueless. The televised African famines of the sixties and seventies – Biafra, Ethiopia, Bangladesh... Ethiopia again – were just that; scenes on the television, far from home and not our fault. But this – also not our fault, despite how much the cringing hand-wringing set wish it to be – is spilling over into a west that is powerless to resist.

Now that my lumbago has its own lumbago I’m entering an uncertain twilight of my own which appears to parallel the demise of Europe. It’s going to be a long, drawn out affair for both of us – me and the west – as we limp along. For a while, possibly quite a long while, we’ll get by. There will be enough in the pot to keep us going, but one day the reality will be revealed and the money will run out. I can’t be the only one who doesn’t expect pensions to ever be as comparatively generous and as reliable as at the present. And I can’t be the only one expecting to work way beyond retirement age to make ends meet. I’m a realist.

I just wish Britain would realise the same and stop pretending that it’s all going to be okay, that migrant workers on minimum wage will somehow keep the coffers brimming over against all the evidence and common sense. I keep paying in with less and less confidence I’ll ever get anything back, just as the UK does with the EU. But if I had kids I would be making plans to transfer to them whatever can be kept out of the hands of an ever more profligate state, so that they could make their own way in the world.

Whatever happened in the past, the EU’s budget is out of control and beyond reform. The greatest bequest Britain can give to its children is independence. Give generously, give life, give hope and vote for Brexit.

The time to choose...

Well, there are twenty varieties of shit going on out there in the big, wide world; it’s a scary place. On the one hand we have the latest ISIS execution video and Iran standing up to Saudi, with the potential to unleash global holy war, with proper weapons. On the other we have the leftist media in the USA and Europe going batshit mental over the Oregon siege, desperate to equate a dozen guys holed up in a non-violent occupation of a government building as equivalent to documented beheadings, burning, crucifixions, hangings and rapid descent from tall buildings. See? - they say - white men are just as bad!

Just what is going wrong out there? What makes otherwise intelligent (always a subjective assessment) people turn on their own? Some of your young (fuck-all to do with me, I’ve never spawned) are actively engaged in promoting the end of the white race and will endure any amount of cognitive dissonance to bring it about. How they must hate their despicable hard-working, thrifty, decent and responsible parents. I ask again, what has to happen to your mind to turn against the culture that created you and vocally support any cause, however deranged, that threatens to destroy it?

Less overtly lethal is our dangerous liaison with Europe’s unelected ruling elite, although many will die as a result of the EU’s self-inflicted cultural suicide. At the heart of the project is a desire to end nation states and create the multicultural caliphate – islam WILL dominate unless it is stopped and the only ‘multicultural’ option for white Europids will be to convert or die, quite possibly before our normal expiry date. Naturally, continued subjugation by Brussels is the preferred option for our deranged, self-loathing ‘progressives’.

Europe is trouble and the EU is trouble formalised and enforced. I have seen nothing in our uneasy forty-year dalliance to suggest that remaining in the wretched consortium will ever be anything but uncomfortable for us. We are one among many, with rules befitting interlocking, borderless, demoralised administrations, not a free-thinking independent island with its own identity. Keir Starmer has now waded in to say leaving is dangerous; yet another voice from the ever duplicitous New Labour con team which makes me ask why. No matter the rhetoric from Westminster the ‘remain’ camp wants the same outcome as all those unpatriotic, unwashed, idle, rent-seeking, radically vegan, hippy, socialist, eco-fascist, islamophile, hunt saboteurs – they want to embrace mediocrity and all it brings.

Fight back. Outside the EU we can not only survive but thrive and on our own terms. We can build vacuum cleaners, kettles and other appliances with enough power to actually do the job. We could decide our own energy policy and rebuild our national grid within the budget we have and not by giving billions to overseas cartels to erect unreliable wind farms. We could decide how to deal with flood prevention and flood defences unhindered by diktat from strangers. Our sea anglers could legally catch and take as many bass as they wish. Hell, we could even sell bent bananas if we so wished, or buy cheap garlic from China. Or - and this is radical - decide who enters our country.

Illegal veg in mass protest at underground market...

The EU produces new directives, regulations, edicts, and actual laws every day, sometimes by the score and often with little opportunity for debate. In the past we had so-called butter mountains and wine lakes as a result. Farmers are paid for simply existing, while others are unable to allow the market to guide their production. EU ‘scientists’ recently claimed there was no proof drinking water helped with dehydration. Our own legislature is perfectly capable of dreaming up legislation which costs a fortune and achieves nothing, but at least we could have a debate about it in Parliament. The time is coming to pick sides. I have always known which side is the right side, do you?

Done Deal

I learned about negotiation the hard way. Trying to sell my crappy old Honda 250 around about 1979, the fat greasy old bloke (he was probably about thirty) offered me £150 cash. I was a student, this was a fortune, but £100 shy of what I thought it was worth. “If you come back later it’ll be £100” was his response to my feeble attempt to suggest I’d get better elsewhere. I walked home, grateful for the much-needed cash, yet still resentful of the manner in which I had acquired it. I pretended to mates that, a) I had got what I asked for and, b) that I had stood my ground against stiff resolve.

When it comes to David Cameron’s fantasy renegotiation of Britain’s membership of the European Union, others far more informed than I have offered their gloomy analysis; here’s Toby Young in the Daily Telegraph: With the notable exception of David Lidington described on PM as ‘Europe Minister’, who could not or would not answer direct questions, absolutely nobody in the public eye appears to believe he will achieve anything other than the square root of fuck-all. (Here: 13 minutes in.)

At least – unlike David Cameron – I didn’t walk into the bike shop every Saturday and tell them how desperate I was for cash before turning up with my wheels and a begging bowl. None of Cameron’s ‘demands’ are significant, except whereby he reveals that in tentatively, indirectly asking for the maybe, a little bit, return of the supremacy of the British Parliament over British affairs, he is flat out admitting that we are entirely controlled legally by the EU. At least I got some money for my bike – all he is going to get (and it’s all he deserves) is a kick in the arse for his insolence.

The ONLY negotiating position had to be, from the outset, that we are leaving the club we can no longer afford to be a member of. Only if you offer us the earth will we even consider remaining. And even then you will have to grovel for it, pay us reparation and let British sides win the EUFA league for the next five straight years. Oh and suck our collective dick, because we had our fingers crossed when we shook on that little deal you interbred, Teutonic, frog-munching, sprout-mangling mongrels...

I have in my hand... absolutely sod all...

The point of a negotiation, as in any trade, is that each side has something the other side wants. And each side has demands in excess of what they will accept, together with an absolute, walk-away, red line below which no deal is possible. What Cameron should be demanding is effective British rule over the whole of the EU and his forget-it position should be if Merkel and co even blink at the demand. Because, let’s face it, none of the concessions he is pleading for are even up for grabs, so he may as well go for broke. What we are getting, however, is pure politics as theatre, nothing more.

And if what it takes for him to genuinely leave the table, as opposed to flouncing out just like in rehearsals, is for him to be tarred and feathered, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, bleeding like stuck pig and carried back to Westminster on a roasting pole in his complete humiliation then so be it. Few in British life would be particularly concerned. Those who want out are resolute, as are those who want in; they both made up their minds long ago. Which means the matter will be decided by the votes of those who can be persuaded; in other words, those who have nothing to negotiate. Does that sound like a good deal to you?

Promises, promises...

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I worked in the oil business. In other words, I regularly came into contact with the Arab world. For all that, like simple people everywhere, they can display a warm generosity of spirit to strangers I was warned to set little store by any promises I might be given. And so it proved to be – a promise made to please at the time it was made could be broken on a simple whim. What they meant yesterday was just a distant memory today, when the promised actions failed to materialise (this is nothing to do with islam, I should add – taqiyya is another thing altogether). We got on with it and simply never banked on fulfilment.

We are living in an age of unprecedented duplicity in public life. A politician’s promise was never a firm foundation for investment but at least in the past lip service appeared to be paid to the notion of personal commitment and intent, even if a pledge could not ultimately be honoured. Now our elected representatives seem to be brazen enough to turn to camera and utter obvious untruths even as they are being expensively inducted onto the committees and company boards who have bought their treachery. How many ‘climate warriors’ have become rich by exploiting the very legislation they helped to enact? How very few of their children have been forced to endure the education they foist on the rest of us?

Staring us in the face is a vote on the biggest heap of nonsensical, dogma-driven, ideological clap-trap yet devised to wrest control from the demos and make democracy history. And Call-me-Dave, who has previously reneged on his cast-iron commitments still manages to keep a straight face as he informs us of the sincerity of his position. A straight in/out referendum, he promised, following a negotiation nobody ever believed he could pull off. The EU is incapable of reform and will stoop as low as it needs to stick its head in the sand and wholly ignore any attempt to force change upon it.

Cameron is an avowed believer in the confidence trick that is the EU and intends to do his utmost to keep us in the infernal disaster zone but he is a politician first and what matters most to him is to court favour as widely as possible. This is why Downing Street is both saying this: “It is not credible to suggest that the majority of the British public could vote to leave and then the UK government would ignore the voters and negotiate to remain.” and simultaneously fanning the billowing smokescreen of UN enforcement of any promises at some future date.

Ali Bongo - taught David Cameron his next trick...

Instead of acknowledging that the EU has no intention of giving any quarter whatsoever, he is now resorting to playing the ‘not enough time for treaty change’ card and offering instead to enshrine any future reformation promises in some UN three card trick. Cynical verbal assurances secured, he and his co-conspirators will perform some simple distraction and sleight of hand to allow him to exit, stage left, at the end of his performance, with the evidence of any covenants miraculously ‘disappeared’ and the hopes and dreams of millions stashed securely out of sight up his capacious, specially tailored conjuror’s sleeve.

Are we EUman?

Nobody knows anything when it comes to what would, might, may, could happen post the EU referendum. Some say that leaving would put at risk the inward investment which creates jobs, but others point out that such investment represents a fraction of what we pay in each year for the ‘benefit’ of being a member. The free movement of people, we will be told, is a fundamental principle which has brought prosperity to all, yet many in the richer nations blame the open borders for their own lack of opportunity and the poorer countries are leaking talent like giant national colanders.

The one thing everybody except David Cameron and those loyal to him appear to know, though, is that there will be no ‘reformed’ European Union. At the end of supposed negotiations DC and the IN campaign will be pleading for us to vote for an unchanged and undemocratic system of over-arching rule driven by ideology. There will be no concessions yet Cameron will plead for us to stay under a supposedly better deal. We’ve been trying to get this deal for over forty years; what makes him think now is the hour? Or, that he is the man? This may, however, be the last time we will ever get an apparently democratic free vote as upcoming generations may not even understand the question.

Project EUman continues apace as impressionable children are stamped into cookie-cutter good citizens by the willing hands of artisan teachers. Labelled ‘gender champions’ they continue the good work of eradicating any differences between the sexes; the sign on the Ministry of Truth says “Uniformity is Diversity!” How soon before the abolishing of gendered names altogether? Recent years have already muddied the waters and the interview panel can no longer assume the sex of the next Alex, Drew, Hayden, Billy or Morgan to walk through the door. Does it matter? Well, it might. Just because girls can become engineers it doesn’t mean they must. And just because boys can become midwives, it doesn’t follow that they should.

Operation square peg/round hole will see yet another generation of confused teenagers, already uncertain of their roles in jobs and wider society and now gender-ambivalent, embark on distracting quests for self-discovery right at the time when they should be getting started on fulfilling careers. Selection processes will continue to favour quotas before competence and aptitude and while the best and the brightest will get on as they always have, the second tiers will be awash with also-ran fishes out of water, gills gasping as they wonder how they got washed up on those shores.

The first cuckoos of the Euro spring...

Meanwhile it is said that Cameron has reiterated his threaten to sack cabinet ministers who had planned to campaign for an exit from the EU. Given Lord Ashcroft’s mysterious and sudden illness the dissenters may be well advised to keep their counsel. A political class held on-message by force; an upcoming voter base unable to envisage a future without Captain Euro to tell them how to think. I don’t want to set the conspiracy nuts tongues a-wagging, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the referendum results have been decided already.

Swinging the vote

Normal blog service is resumed following a couple of days of being incapable of sitting upright long enough to type the thing. I wish I could say I was that drunk, or so far incapacitated by hallucinogenic intoxicants I thought my fingers were enormous burning cauliflowers and too big to hit the keys accurately; sadly the real story, as is usually the way, is somewhat more prosaic. Damn you, lower back strain! (Surely there’s a much more complicated and tortuous phrase that doesn’t tell the truth that you just lifted and twisted like you’ve been told not to?)

Anyway, once again I was engaged in the odd sally regarding the supposedly forthcoming open and honest debate about Europe and the EU and how the vote will be won... or lost. And here, I think, lies the root of the problem; nobody - and I do mean nobody – knows how the UK would fare outside its suffocating embrace. So all the YES campaign has to do is stay all nice and fluffy, calm and controlled and act like your dad: “You may hate me now, son, but in the end you’ll see, I had your best interests at heart all along.” And given the current cost of housing the lad may well stay on in the family home... although the resentment will simmer beneath the surface forever. Prescient or what?

Meanwhile, the NO campaign is struggling to find a positive message for life beyond because, in the lives of most who will vote, there has never been a world outside the EU and for those who remember Britain before we were railroaded in, it was a pretty shitty time all round; two world wars and the poverty and blight that followed. Although many of those my age and older are anti-‘the EU’ a good proportion will abstain or vote to stay in because they believe their pensions depend on it. This means that the bias of the OUT campaign will necessarily be negative, stating what is wrong with the EU – principally the whole political union thing – rather than what could be beneficial for an independent UK.

Like general elections though, the majority of minds are already made up, with a near fifty/fifty split for each option, leaving only the undecided 20% of those who intend to vote to influence. For the IN lobby to be positive all they have to say is “Look what [unsubstantiated] bounty it brings.” and then point at all the signs that tell you how this school extension and that hospital wing has been built with EU grants, leaving out that the cost of a £50million EU grant is nothing for, say, Spain, but around £100million for the UK. When the NO movement points this out it is seen as mud slinging.

Logically, nobody unsure of the facts – and there are no verifiable ‘facts’ in this propaganda war – would vote to alter a status quo which offers them no apparent harm. And why would those who have never experienced self-determination chance their arm at going it alone? As defeatist as it may sound, a crowd-pleasing monstering campaign against the EU will be much like the Jeremy Corbyn circus – rousing cheers from the converted and the odd round of applause from curious bystanders, but at best a minority translation into actual votes from outside. My forecast, for what it’s worth, is a 60/40 IN vote and just like Scotland, much grumbling and unrest thereafter. The EU won't let go its grip until it ends in total failure.

A Question of Competence

Well it’s pretty clear from the last forty-eight hours that neither the Conservatives nor Labour have any intention of giving up their sacred mission to keep the people of a once-free nation shackled to a project doomed to end in war. If it’s not a war between neighbouring states forced to comply with laws and regulations that don’t meet their best interests, it will be war between the drastically weakened armed forces of Europe and the invading and accelerating army of islam. David Cameron’s open hand holds no cards of any concern to France and Germany and there will be absolutely no repatriation of powers whatsoever. We might as well start learning German… except they already speak English more better than what we do.

It will be this way, but it need not be. There is no way Britain can get more than token support from any other country; once again we stand alone, but that’s where our strengths lie. Taking on the evil axis and winning is what we are supposed to be made of, not cravenly kow-towing to an authority most of us refuse to recognise. Remaining in a political affiliation that nobody in this country ever voted for is plain insane. It’s a protection racket where we pay the dues but still get beaten up. Britain will always be the odd man out in a Europe which was never designed with us in mind; we have no true friends or allies there, just those we pay to hang out with. It’s like a political brothel.

It’s not about benefits it’s about borders. We can change the benefit rules whenever we like, but it suits the ‘renegotiation’ to pretend we need agreement from the EU apparatchiks. We have nothing to fear from the ECHR either; we had human rights long before anybody had even coined the term ‘human rights lawyer’. Ever heard of British Standards? They are not just stale old books of regulations; British standards and values once ruled the free world and shaped much of what we think of as civilisation. Our standing in the world? One of twenty eight, much of them mediocre, or a mighty one of one? There are no legitimate arguments to compel us to believe we can’t survive outside; of course we can.

In fact we could prosper like never before. Let the whingers of the IN lobby fuck off out and let the UK become a major low-tax, low-waste economy. Reject the miserable raft of strangling ‘equality’ rules and let people shine. Everybody deserves a chance but not everybody deserves the same reward; if you want to live on benefits or work for a pittance, why not move to Europe – I hear it’s all the rage over there? We should look after the sick and genuinely disadvantaged, of course, but let’s not have all this bullshit with tolerating the freeloaders. Don’t like our culture? By-bye, the boat leaves in ten minutes, mind the door doesn’t slam on your arse on the way out.

People my age can still recollect how optimistic we once were. People younger have never known a world not constrained by red tape. Years ago I can remember laughing when I heard that to be a bread baker in France you needed a college diploma. Now in Britain you need an actual degree to be allowed to wipe old people’s arses and change bandages. Not only do mere qualifications not equate to competence, there is a production line system in place that often means the exact opposite. Our politicians, our business leaders and most of our commentators have no more of a valid opinion about our future outside the EU than the millions of mature observers that have been watching their corrupt and duplicitous dealings for decades.

Conflict: The truth of Britain's role in Europe

I don’t trust David Cameron. I don’t trust Clarke and Heseltine and Mandelson and Blair either. I don’t trust any one of the talking heads who have clear mandate to tell whatever lies or unsubstantiated suppositions they think will best scare the electorate into voting against change. Look around. Are you really happy with things as they are? If you don’t want change now when DO you want it? This referendum is a once in a generation opportunity and if you get it wrong not only will you have to live with it, but I, for one, will have to die with it. Vote for hope. Vote out.

The Island

Looking over the stereotypical, post-nuclear-esque wasteland, flyblown rags of curtains flap in the breeze, litter blows in facsimile tumbleweeds down the street and rabid dogs scavenge for scraps. The few remaining humans are lurching Euro-Zombies, searching for brains and Penal Colony Britain has finally voted itself into oblivion. Where once we sent our criminals to a god forsaken outback on the other side of the world, Europe now funnels its unwanted overfill into department EU/AS/01, a gulag where the lowest are sent to survive… or not. Those who try to escape believe they will be gifted homes and good living off the island, but nobody escapes from Ukatraz.

Fortress Britain is quiet; the roads no longer rumble with traffic and industry’s gears have ground to a halt. Flights neither arrive nor leave and the long dead birds no longer sing in the non-existent trees. Mostly concreted over, the only access to the gigantic prison yard formerly known as Kent, is via the heavily guarded EuroTunnel whose sole purpose is to act as a one-way portal into, but never out of the EU’s ultimate immigration holding camp. The only way off is to brave the treacherous currents of the French Channel, constantly patrolled by seaborne drones programmed to intercept and destroy all unauthorised craft.

Some still talk of Albion and of a boy King who will symbolically free a sword from a stone and somehow bring about resurrection, but others know this wasteland for what it is; the end of the long road. It is used to corral those inflicted with madness, rage and the crime of expressing an opinion. Some still speak of a divine creator and heavenly father who will save the faithful in the final apocalypse but others know that fantasy for what is it. This land is also used to contain those infected with islam and other irrational superstitions; their deities appear to be quite happy to leave them to it.

Britain finally achieved what many wished for, to be self-contained; because there is no traffic with the rest of the world other than the inward traffic in people of a dangerous mind-set. The islands of Crete and Malta and Cyprus and Kos eventually proved too small and too easily accessible for efficient containment purposes and have been returned to their former status as holiday camps for rewarding public sector workers – there are few other types of worker nowadays, with private businesses all propped up one way or another by the impenetrable system of bureaucracy which administers the sovereign EU.

Meanwhile, back in Fortress Britain – ex-Airstrip One – the siren sounds, signalling another escape attempt. Ironic really: as one boat-load of refugees from Africa is rescued from the warm, azure Mediterranean then transported across Europe and through the tunnel to their destination of choice, a similar boat load of escapees is blown to bits in the cold, dark waters of the Channel and transported to their own end. The EU has a final solution for Britain… don’t think it couldn’t happen.

Fighting Fair?

It will not be a fair fight. And in the end the result that has already been decided will be delivered as some form of triumph for common sense and humanity. If the likes of Lutfur Rahman can rig election results and police forces and social services spokespeople can face the cameras and flatly deny they knew anything about the systematic rape of thousands of teenage girls, it will be simplicity itself for Westminster to finagle the outcome of a referendum in which nobody risks actually getting hurt. And those who can will up-sticks and abandon this land to the totalitarian socialist satellite it threatens to become.

Every day there is a thread of pro-EU propaganda stitched into the news programmes. Every day another cohort of future young Juncker Youth will be inculcated with the party line and despatched to berate their parents for daring to contemplate betraying their glorious future in the land of Oz. The choice of staying in will be presented with a matter-of-fact breeziness with adjectives such as ‘obvious’ and ‘sensible’ and even ‘conservative’ applied to people and policy in favour of in. Likewise the outcome of a vote for inertia will be peppered with happy, contented phrases conjuring up apple-cheeked vitality and children standing up to sing ‘Tomorrow belongs to me’ through lips backed by perfect, white, smiling teeth.

In complete contrast to the reality of future life in the Federation of European Soviets the IN campaign will show expensively filmed flags of all nations waving merrily alongside each other in harmony and common purpose while happy workers go about their joyous, apparently free lives. It will be shown as a Technicolor world of plenty, every bit as optimistic as those long lost days of nineteen-fifties California. The best writers and directors and ‘imagineers’ in the world will be employed in building the fictional future, because money will be no object. Our own money will be spent against us.

In contrast the OUT campaigners have an uphill struggle because whilst all those who remember free speech and genuine hope – as opposed to the ersatz, government-sanctioned, do-as-you-are-bidden, hope-lite – will have to top the golden offerings of the stay-ins. Look out for descriptors such as 'controversial' and 'brave' and anything indicative of untried theory. We will be portrayed as grey pessimists, with bad dentures and failing health, in grainy backward-looking newsreels. And every attempt we make to reveal the regressive nature of the EU project will be seized on as typical of Little Englanders longing for a never-was past. Of course it never was; the EU put the brakes on all we might have become by now.

Even as our annual and solemn reverence for the fallen war dead who gave us the freedom to now vote for our own subjugation has been slowly, year-by-year turned into a maudlin reflection of the evils of all our finest national strengths, it won’t be enough to turn the tide for us to show what is wrong with the European Union. We have to say again and again, what is so right about independence. The nations we conquered by superior force in the past we eventually delivered back to home rule. But when it came to ourselves this fierce island race allowed itself to be led into the stockade and now, like battery hens even with the door open wide we blink yet we don’t understand the meaning of the light.

Inside the European Union we are limited in what we can do. Our borders are not our own and our laws are not of our making. Our trade will be regulated, controlled and ultimately we will achieve what we are ‘allowed’ to achieve – and that will be governed by what others wish to achieve. Our farmers will work to the plan and our military will bolster the police in maintaining civil order. Our politicians will be mere administrators of the taxes we will contribute and the downward pressure of the ‘equality and fairness’ agenda will ensure that in a few generations the very thought of leaving will become near impossible even to articulate.

Just do it!

See that door, chickens? It is wide open. And on the other side are all the possibilities you ever dreamed of. So instead of trying to counter the IN argument, why argue at all? OUT is freedom, OUT is self-determination and OUT is a whole new adventure. Who’s up for an adventure?

The Battle for Britain

Daniel Hannan wrote very recently that we should beware of the scaremongers and he is bang on the money. The forces of ‘in’ have been waging this war for many years and they have a wealth of material all ready to put the fear of god up the little people. A few months ago Channel 4 aired the blatant propaganda of ‘Ukip: The First 100 Days’ showing Britain degenerating into a fantasy neo-Nazi regime after a surprise Ukip victory in the general election. The pro-EU lefties must have been wanking themselves into a froth at this depiction of what, in their shallow, unidimensional loathing of anybody not bowing before the diktat of the little red book, would happen if actual democracy was served.

Then, last week the BBC aired a reframing of history, thinly disguised as a warts and all examination of Britain’s greatest wartime Prime Minister. ‘Churchill: When Britain Said No’ was nothing more than an anti-British polemic giving an unwarranted amount of time to the unsubstantiated opinions of rabid communist agitator David John ‘Danny the Red’ Douglass. He claimed that the man for whose funeral virtually the entire country stopped was utterly hated by those very same people who lined the streets in solemn tribute. Of course Douglass has form and was no doubt instrumental in whipping up hate mobs to burn Margaret Thatcher in effigy after her death. They do so love to hate, the left.

And now another gob-on-a-stick, the Canadian UN envoy, Francois ‘Crapeau’, has waded into the issue of the UK replacing Tony Blair’s blunt-trauma weapon the Human Rights Act with a British Bill of Rights, with the ridiculous statement:  "We have to remember the 1930s and how the rights of the Jews were restricted in Germany and then the rights of the whole German people.” And "Countries that go down the path of reducing the rights of one category of people usually don't stop there." Like the Nazis, Frank? Seriously, you little shit? Curious, isn’t it, how those whose allegiances are to such ideals as world government, common purpose and wielding immense and unaccountable power over billions of helpless citizen-slaves are so quick to conjure up the Nazi comparison.

The trouble is though, it does actually work. So powerful is the notion and so indoctrinated are people – it’s practically all that is taught in history at school, by all accounts - that all you have to say is “that’s how the Nazis started” and the sheer terror of the monsters they might become pushes them to vote for the nearest form of socialism available. Of course British National Socialism could never ever be like German National Socialism, could it now? After all, they bombed our chippies!

Plenty of work in the EU... to set you free.

But make no mistake, the issue of the European Union is already a sub-military conflict with its bureaucratic battles having been fought ever since Britain’s entry through skulduggery and its retention via the disgraceful unbalanced referendum of 1975. Furthermore it is a war waged against us, paid for by us. Every penny supposedly gifted to Britain by the EU and trumpeted as largesse represents a mere fraction of what we pay in; it’s like prisoners not only purchasing their own barbed wire but paying outside labour to erect the fences around them. Brexit? It’s the next Battle of Britain. 

Razor sharp

The final scene fades in and the lone gunman cautiously approaches the Mafia don, who is alone at his desk and unaware of the presence of his stalker. The camera zooms in, the intruder filling the frame and a single green blink is seen from the dial of his wristwatch before the focus is pulled quickly out, the point of view retreating vertically upward, beyond the boundaries of the room, revolving to zoom in to a satellite. The signal is bounced twice before reaching Langley, Virginia, where a team of operatives study flashing screens. An alarm sounds and a red button is pressed.

In the grounds of the godfather’s residence three armed guards are simultaneously despatched by unseen assailants and a shadowy figure approaches the ground floor window of the Don’s study. We see the Mafia boss and behind him the stalker. A door bursts open and the main lights are turned on. Two others enter the room and cover the stalker whose pistol is aimed at the crime boss’s chest. One is the FBI field agent who has been pursuing the stalker. The other is a British under-cover cop. The gang boss grabs his pistol and shoots the intruder; the Brit shoots the FBI guy. The cop nods at the don, holsters his pistol and exits. [Roll Credits]

We are left thrilled and disturbed; what have we just seen? Wait, the Brit was working for the Mafia all along? But why then was he seen at the marina in a previous scene? And how did the disgraced FBI man get his badge and gun back? And who, exactly, was the would-be assassin working for? More questions than answers and a plot as full of holes as an Aero but a strangely satisfying outcome. Before we have tried to unravel who did what to whom and why, our memories start to become hazy and we bring our own focus back to the here and now; work, family, money. We were entertained for a couple of hours, but now it is back to reality

Twisted tales, conspiracy theories, shadowy forces controlling our world – we love that shit. But the truth is usually much more mundane. The boss isn’t trying to get you constructively dismissed; he just doesn’t like you. The Jews, sorry ‘Zionists’, didn’t carry out the attack on the Twin Towers in a complex operation twenty years in the making; the jihadis really did just fly airliners into them. And Cultural Marxism isn’t a coordinated plot involving millions of teachers, councillors, police, judiciary and trades union placemen; It’s just what we call the mess of an outcome of years of misguided beliefs in ‘fairness’ instead of pursuing higher expectations.

William of Ockham’s fourteenth century hypothesis lex parsimoniae or ’law of parsimony' states that among competing hypotheses that predict equally well, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected. What has become known as Occam’s Razor states that "Other things being equal, simpler explanations are generally better than more complex ones." It is a principle I like to remind myself of, once in a while, in order that I don’t get carried away by the outlandish conspiracy theories that permeate the Internet like a gullible plague of grasshoppers.

Keep. It. Simple. Stupid.

And thus to the forthcoming EU referendum. Prepare for smokescreens, a never-ending hall of distorting mirrors and unsubstantiated, complex ‘explanations’ about how everything is interconnected and like a game of Kerplunk, if we vote to leave the order of our society, nay the very fabric of our universe will be rent asunder. The EU question is not about benefits, nor is about immigration and freedom of movement. It isn’t about red-tape business regulations, the European arrest warrant, nor human rights. It isn’t even really about trade. It is about one thing and one thing only. Sovereignty. As more and more big guns get embroiled in the whole affair, forget that one, important, simple thing and you may as well step into your own shackles. Believe in simplicity, believe in Britain and vote out.

Euro Lies

There’s been a lot of euro-propaganda about this last week. On the telly, on the radio, spat out in newsprint… it’s everywhere and it’s hard to refute. That’s because nobody knows what lies on the outside; while on the inside it may not be a bowl of cherries, at least it’s a bowl. Back in 1973, to a Britain less than twenty years out of rationing, when trade mostly depended on oiling the wheels through official channels and information could be strictly controlled,  de Gaulle’s repeated “Non!” was tantalising. What were we missing? How could we survive, frozen out? Ted Heath – inducement or not – probably felt he had no option; he certainly didn’t trust the workers to make the ‘right’ choice.

Since then the big question of Europe – in or out - has never changed, but all around us the world has. Today an entrepreneur can get rich from her bedroom without ever having to negotiate trade agreements and export deals. Vast industries deal in instant global communication and the processing of data and information online, so individuals can telework from anywhere. The factories have closed, or moved and fewer organisations rely on fixed sites. To mine coal you have to dig where the coal is. To mine information all you need can be in the palm of your hand, wherever you happen to be. The black-and-white days of nine-to-five are history for many in the globalised world and many have migrated to cheaper, calmer lands to work to live, rather than live to work.

Life is better for everybody than it was forty years ago, so why rock the boat at all? That’s going to be the constant mantra from the Euro-politburo and it’s very likely to work. Big is beautiful, they’ll say, the greatest trading bloc in the world… but who wants to live in a bloc? Not me and I’ll tell you why:

In a small community there may be a king but if he doesn’t do a good job of kinging he will be quickly deposed. A more benevolent dictator could rule for a lifetime, or even found a dynasty but in a small economy there is only so much wealth to go around and as the gap between rich and poor gets beyond the tolerable, again, the peasants can rise. But build a super-structure like the EU and corruption is rife; you no longer know who is to blame and the super-rich are people you will never know. And it is only in enormous corrupted economies that people can get very rich through doing very little.

Those businesses arguing for more EU have vested interests in its army of cheap labour and a never-ending supply of consumers. But if your customers are also your workers, is the model whereby they end up on the lowest possible minimum wage the best there is? The EU sells itself on providing stability and prosperity and peace for all while simultaneously exercising the most detailed social engineering on the vast majority of its citizens; mere drones to fuel the machine. The kings of the European Union cannot be unthroned and just as with Orwell’s Ingsoc they tell us what to believe. All that information on the Internet is no use unless you can think for yourself.

Tin Cam... floating

The populations will still exist. The consumers, the workers, the bosses and the leaders will still do what they have to do. The world will still be there and the sky won’t have fallen in. But outwith the EU what will be gone is the lack of accountability, the uncontrolled herd migration for greener pastures and the ridiculous notion that the cure for too much bureaucracy is more bureaucracy. Britain would not be isolated. We would, once more, be an independent nation capable of acting directly in our own best interests instead of having a succession of puppet Prime Ministers who pretend that we can. Instead of meekly accepting what we are told is the inevitable ‘in’ vote, it’s time we started listening to what the ‘outers’ have to say. Brexit does not have to be a dirty word.

Farage-oh!

I have harboured a mistrust of the European Union and of politicians in general since long before 1975. I saw union power cripple industries; wildcat strikes, flying pickets, one-out/all-out and often on a whim. Two minutes-worth of tea break, efficiency drives, mechanisation and more; any excuse it seemed, back in the sixties and seventies and the all-powerful shop steward would snap his mighty fingers and the crack would be heard across the land. But in one thing the unions and I were agreed; there was something rotten about Project Europe.

Then after Wilson’s victory in 1974 on a promise to hold the first referendum in our history I saw the way in which the two sides, pro and con, handled the debate. Despite the overwhelming feeling in the country that we lost something of ourselves when Ted Heath signed us up, the big money of the ‘in’ campaign bombarded us with the slick propaganda of fear. We were already in, they said, and it’s fine. To leave before we gave it a chance would make us look ridiculous. As a declining world power our voice could only be heard as part of something bigger. If we weren’t inside the Common Market we would be outside all markets. It stank. And as a result of that stink the British pinched their noses and voted against their heart.

Twenty years later that heart returned as Britain’s confidence had grown and a small new party was formed. Since then the Internet has allowed access to follow the debate in far more detail than hitherto and although there is no precedent to show we would be better off out, there is precious little to show we’d be better off in; but one hell of a dirty pile of evidence of corruption, coercion and a hell-bent agenda of eradicating the nation state. On pragmatic grounds the generation that got to vote in would now vote out. The generation that just missed out – me and millions like me – are even more certain we have nothing to fear from stepping outside. But move to the under-forties and the picture is blurred by a relentless message from Brussels that to leave would be suicide. It just wouldn’t.

But for Ukip’s dogged persistence we would simply not be discussing it at all. Conservative rebels have serially failed to bring their party to heel and many sit firmly on the fence, occasionally hopping to one side or another – I’m looking at you, Boris – whenever politically expedient. And Ukip would not have had the success it has had without the dogged persistence of one Nigel Farage. Red Ukip, Right Ukip; however the party has lurched, whichever vote it has courted I have always viewed it as a one-issue – one crucial issue – party.

They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. This may or may not be what is happening with Nigel Farage right now, but now is not the time for the party to fall apart. David Cameron may or may not honour his cast-iron pledge for an honest in/out referendum but we already know he is 100% on the side of in and his whips will do their utmost to keep his dogs in line. You can say what you like about Nigel Farage and I know you will, but I am wholly convinced of one thing: we would not even be having the prospect of a referendum were it not for him.

Come the referendum...

Others have written at length about what Patrick O’Flynn has said and sharp are the knives, ready to carve Nigel’s early epitaph, but the political landscape might have been a sterile wasteland without his towering presence. As a one-man thorn in the side he has done more than any Euro-sceptic Tory to give the people of Britain the choice they never really had 40 years ago. So, I no longer care about whether or not Ukip is 'different', or whether the man at its helm is a true anti-politician or just like all the rest; none of that is important now. But the 'out' campaign needs a strong voice and there is no bigger and more coherent than Team Farage.

Shirts & Skins

Well, there’s plenty of huffing and puffing about ‘Yerp’ this week, for today’s the day the Tory propaganda machine begins its four-year campaign to lie and spin and scare the Bejasus out of an electorate which, while it has no idea how food gets to its table, or how the muggle magic of mobile telephony could possibly work, nevertheless holds, each one of them, a precious vote in its otherwise insignificant, tiny hand.

Many a mickle makes a muckle and Europhiles everywhere are happy to get their hands mucky in this dirtiest and shabbiest of all tricks. For, while all the time double-speaking about democracy, they plot to deliver the citizens of the United Kingdom, shackled and hamstrung into tyranny. Our laws, our economy, our very history is intended to be bought and owned and altered by an unelected secretariat who will answer to nobody as they wreck millions of lives, while pulling the strings of The Press to spread happy lies. 

For his part, Cameron thinks he just has to do enough to scare the shit out of everybody and they'll vote for the devil they think they know. Buoyed up on lovely Labour welfare for decades and not yet seeing any of the supposed cuts that are resulting in a massive increase in public spending, the average Joe will only know he was quite well off for a while and now he risks losing the lot. 

But losing the lot of what? I imagine a civilised and prosperous country has wide, clean city vistas of tree-lined boulevards, where throngs of contented folk gambol in easy harmony as they go about their pain-free lives. They work in safe, clean environments and return to modern, happy homes where they relax by indulging in whatever leisure pursuit suits their mood and later retire to live long, restful days in the dappled rural sunshine. 

I struggle to see where ethnic gangs, roaming our filthy back streets, fit comfortably into this picture. I don’t see a happy country having overcrowded mono-cultural ghettoes in between sub-cultural slums, where pregnant teenagers and verminous illiterate young men choose drug and dole dependency over dignity and purpose. In my imaginings, worthwhile people don’t seek amusement in violently abusing the emergency services they fraudulently call to their aid. 

Either version of Britain comes at a cost, but who’s going to pay for it? You gotta pick a pocket or two, so you have to have some pockets to pick. And those whose pockets are worth a dip are wise to events and eager to have a say in the manner of their ransacking. David Cameron is going to spout off today, in his much-vaunted and leaked speech, that he doesn't want Britain to leave ‘Yerp’ but that he wants a renegotiation of our relationship. 

Well, that’s just not good enough for a huge proportion of working UK citizens and it’s time to pick sides. Shirts or skins? We’ll play shirts; big, bright, Union Flag shirts, on our side of the English Channel. The rest can wear whatever multicultural skins they want, but they can stay on the continent. 

Back off, Barroso!

When we eventually secede from the European Union (if it doesn't happen now, or in four years, it will happen, possibly by bloody means at some time in the future) we can still have a relationship with Europe. They can be our poor neighbour. 

All for One and All for Me!

When I was a lad my dad voted Labour. Why? Because, in his words, he was a labourer and therefore he genuinely believed this party must represent him. But what I saw on the news every night was a country gripped by strike fever. Union shop stewards cracked whips and everybody downed tools on the merest whim. They went on strike over the length of tea breaks, the unfair expectations of business owners demanding quality output, attendance and some actual work and on many points of Marxist principle involving what they saw as the duties of enterprise towards its most expensive yet often most defective component.

Companies were hamstrung by over-manning, under-skilling, demarcation, working to rule and the ever-present threat of a crippling walk out because some useless oxygen thief had been dismissed on legitimate grounds but without months of union-led negotiations, time wasting obfuscation and campaigns at national level. Dad was never in a union and the Labour Party has never done a single thing to his benefit in any way whatsoever, yet some bizarre tribal loyalty kept him voting for them until he finally stopped bothering several decades ago. Now, of course, he wouldn't have to worry about who to vote for because in the popular phrase, it doesn't matter who you vote for, the government always gets in. 

Possibly nothing better illustrates this than the current prevarication over our relationship with the European Union. As the electorate overwhelmingly insists it wants a say, every political faction is doing its level best to deny that option. As a significant proportion of the population has deep concerns over the membership foisted upon us 40 years ago, so every way we turn we are denied the right to express those concerns. 

Vote Labour or Lib-Dem and Europe will prevail. The Conservatives have already embarked upon a five-year war of words to batter the voters into delivering the pre-ordained consensus, should they get re-elected – it’s easy making a promise you’re unlikely to have to make good on. And if you vote for the only party which openly demands a yes/no, in/out referendum it is almost certain that Labour will gain a majority in 2015. (No wonder Ed Miliband hasn't got any policies – he simply doesn't need any.) 

So, where does that leave us? The European Union is a vast, Socialist enterprise which drives down education and behavioural standards and employment opportunities for its poorest, keeps the middle classes onside by effectively enslaving them to a life on kick-backs and seeks to pay for it all by punitive taxation of those who can most easily up-sticks and leave. It is a crackpot model, it’s unsustainable and it will result in armed conflict at local, national and international level at some point. I doubt very much that Mr Obummer will want to wade in to help sort out the mess he seems so keen on provoking. So what’s to do? 

Given that all modern world governments seem hell-bent on some version of the socialist model, where the numbers of undeserving are increased at the expense of the worthy there seems to be only one sensible option. Look after number one; I'm alright, Jack; every man for himself. I'm unhappy enough about giving up my hard-earned to British social parasites; I'm buggered if I'm going to be buggered for the benefit of a bunch of Bulgarians as well.

Mine! All mine!

Starting now I'm reducing my taxable income by any legal means possible, giving nothing to charity ever again, hoarding my resources and hiding whatever I can. I shall aim to move to where multiculturalism is still pointed at and derided and I plan to consume only what I need, eking out what little I do have for the benefit of me and mine alone... and those with the outstretched hands can go fuck themselves!  

Acute angina? Thank you very much!

Apologies to regular readers for the paucity of posts thus far this week; there's nothing like a day in the Acute Medical Unit to focus the mind on the important issues of the day. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to take my Kindle along as I was rushed into an assessment which took the best part of a day, on and off.

Actually, rushed is a tad specious, as it took four days of discomfort and a bit of nagging from somebody-who-knows-better before I deigned to allow the NHS to confirm my diagnosis. In fairness they were all very thorough, patient[sic] and courteous, batting aside my concerns that I was wasting their time and my entreaties that I was only there because I was nagged. The diagnosis? Indigestion... we think.

So, there's nothing to see here, move along the corridor smartly and try to avoid staring at the mad-haired Scots lady trying to manoeuvre a fag past her nasal oxygen cannula whilst reciting... well, it could be anything really, it's in Scottish. Avert your eyes, also, from the grossly be-tattooed, multiply pierced, heavily pregnant teenager and her attendant posse of identically clothed 'individuals' - they're the future, they've got rights, you know. (There should be an exam, really there should.)

With all due respect for the long-suffering staff, the last place you want to be if you're ill is in a hospital. But I'm not, so it's all good. And I did get to put in a spot of reading. Whatever you think of UKIP and in particular, Nigel Farage, you can't deny he has to be one of the most colourful and charismatic politicians out there, right now. In the AMU I was reading Flying Free, his engaging memoir in which he sets out his stall for a retrenchment, at the very least, of our role in Europe.

I've blogged about Europe before; about how I was just one year too young to make my feelings known in 1975; about how I never trusted the shifty Ted Heath and about how I have yet to hear a single fact-supported argument for the travesty of democracy that is the European Union. Nigel's book pointed me at a number of avenues for further research and I append a few links below.

But I don't need to 'do the math' as they say. I don't need to study dry old economic theories and European war histories. I don't need to peruse a balance sheet of pros and cons.I don't need to do any of those things to know that Europe is pure poison. Free movement of people across borders? I used to have that anyway; it was called a British Passport. In fact, even as a post-war, post-empire nation, Britain had far more respect and possibilities than we will ever have again if the spectre of costly, corrosive, creeping Euro-Everything is not halted.

And just as against the Nazis - whose European ambitions were so close to those of the EU Commissioners - the English Channel is a natural border between the European mainland and the last free country this side of the Atlantic. All you need to know about the three main parties is that not one of them has made any serious noise about withdrawing from Europe. What they have all been complicit in is handing over ever more power  while flatly denying it.

Now I'm not saying that UKIP is the answer to all our ills, but surely a party willing to draw the line has to be a better bet than all the governments willing to hand over £19.2bn per year, or if you prefer, £53m per day, to the unelected, unimpeachable, bureaucratic nightmare of Brussels.

Yeah. Fuck you, Britain!

If you have a spare hour, have a read/watch of some of these:

http://www.ukipmeps.org/uploads/file/ReferendumStichUp.pdf

http://www.ukip.org/content/latest-news/2777-nigels-birmingham-speech

http://campaignfortruth.com/CTE/realfaceinfo.htm

http://www.forvik.com/index.php/documents/the-eu

See you at the referendum!

Foul Ref!

So, the big topic of the weekend has been Shiny Dave and William Vague's slightly contradictory stances regarding the only 'ref' anybody is interested in. Forget Euro 2012, it's Euro-ad-infinitum we're concerned about. Both main parties have arrived at the same mealy-mouthed formula, which goes roughly thus.

The time is not right. We will open discussions on the desirability of holding a referendum on our role in Europe when it becomes clearer what The EU will become. At that time we may entertain the possibility that we might need to renegotiate our terms of membership.

That means precisely sweet FA (<~~ see how I got another footie reference in? Genius, that!) In other words we are too bat-shit scared of making any decision at all and we will continue to throw your money at the European confidence trick until war breaks out, populations starve or... or... or what? Nobody knows. Nobody.

Labour are sitting pretty , jabbing from the sidelines while breathing an enormous sigh of relief that they didn't get into power in 2010. But it is a criminal shame that none of the main parties dare entertain the notion of democracy.

It is an entirely reasonable thing to choose your battles and your battleground wisely and not enter into open conflict until intelligence suggests you have a chance of winning. But the Conservatives have been ripping themselves apart over Europe ever since the failed attempt to rid us of it in 1975. In the twenty-teens it will be the issue that finally killed off the Tories. And if they are so weak, then good riddance.

The EU will never let us renegotiate - would the golf club tear up the rules in our favour and then let  us take the prime tee times for an associate member's fee? Of course not. There are only two paths for the European project now. A federal  Europe of soviet-style gulags, working for the massive machinery of state in return for a meagre standard of living and a media diet of joyous fake news. That, or a break up into self-determining sovereign nations.

The Gulag Flag

So back to the referendum:

1. When is the right time? It's right now. (Not when the govt thinks it will get the answer it wants, which is to do nothing.)
2. What is the right question to ask? Europe - IN or OUT? (Let's actually settle this forty-year issue once and for all.)
3. Any other options? No. None.

I'm not one to put my signature to causes, but on this occasion I believe something has to be done. Maybe (just maybe) enough names on this PETITION and something might happen. Unless the current government do this and do it now, there is only one party with the balls to offer us the choice.

So, Cameron, hold a referendum NOW or I'm definitely voting UKIP and I don't even care if Labour get back in as a result, you cringing, Euro-servile coward.