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UK Anti-Immigration Riots Herald New Dystopian Era

In case you are wondering should you travel to the UK, my advice to you is you’d be safer as the target in a circus knife-throwing act. And it’s nothing to do with the ‘far right’ and all to do with immigration.

12 August 2024 ~ UK Anti-Immigration Riots Herald New Dystopian Era

Travel Warning Issued: Stay away from the UK

What a great idea! What a cunning plan!
Was it the new government’s
or the evil far right’s?
Apparently, several countries, including the likes of Nigeria, Kenya, Indonesia, are warning their natives not to travel to the UK as it is a dangerous place. I have to agree with them, but it is nothing to do with the riots. Now all we have to do is to get countries spanning the entire continent of Africa, Pakistan and the whole of the Middle East to issue similar warnings ~ even Rwanda might join in ~ and like stranger things which happen at sea, perhaps the ‘little boats’, which are anything but little, will sail away to somewhere else, like Never Never Land, and never return again. Amen.

After 27 years of being forcefully told that multiculturalism and diversity are the best thing since the Black and White Minstrels disbanded, and you’d better believe it, keep your mouth shut and only say what we want you to say, the lid has finally blown off the UK pressure cooker. Perhaps now at last the UK can stop looking for bogus invasions from fictional enemies abroad and address the home-grown threat from the immigrant invasion. Sorry? What was that? You doubt it? So do I.

The British media and the newly appointed Labour government are at such frenetic odds to divert the British public from the root cause of the riots, the immigration crisis, that if the situation was not so egregiously dire, and as we have seen in the past few days so dangerous, it would make good comedy. The UK is disintegrating and everyone and everything is to blame except for failed multiculturalism, perpetual immigration and an endless sludge pump of stifling woke.

Social media is to blame, especially Musk’s ‘X’ (just because he dismantled Twitter’s left-wing hegemony and then scrapped the platform’s silly name for another silly name); Farage is to blame, because he tells it as it is (I blame it on that suit he borrowed from Tommy Robinson.); GB News is to blame, because it raises questions and highlights issues that the lefty mainstream media would rather not confront and evidently has no answer for; white Britons are to blame because some of their compatriots have taken to the streets to vent their anger and frustration, when they should be playing the white man, complying and capitulating and taking whatever shit is shot in their direction by the establishment’s anti-white fan. It would not be so bad if it was aimed at everyone else, but unfortunately it seems to them that they are the only target.

Who will not be blamed, until history exposes them, is the UK’s political elite and the puppeteers, their globalist masters.

How UK mainstream media plays down and manipulates the truth
This is an exercise you can do at home. Go to UK Google News and search on ‘stabbing’. This will give you a list of articles. Read these articles and see if you can find the identity of the person (people) being stabbed and the identity of the person (people) doing the stabbing. This is a simple test for mainstream media obfuscation. Often, the articles seem to be hiding something ~ and we know what that something is!

Also, watch video news reports carefully. For example, some of the mainstream news videos of the alleged assault by two policer officers at Manchester Airport. Here, the bias is often conveyed almost subliminally in the tone of the narrator. It is a weary, sorrowful, injured tone, as if the person doing the talking has contracted a virulent dose of the bed-wetting liberal lefties. Both techniques are employed to a mutual end, but one plays with your focus whilst the other attempts to infect your thoughts like a virus through your feelings. Read. Watch. But above all be sceptical.

Recent things to consider:
* What started the ethnic riots in Leeds: Google answer: anti-police sentiment.

* UK serviceman stabbed: A hard left newspaper standfirsts its report with the usual get-out-clause, the attacker could have a mental health issue. Well, yes, all of these enrichers who have nothing better to do in life than roam around stabbing people, blowing people up and, for an encore, blowing themselves up have, by definition, mental health problems. The question you should ask yourself, and your politicians, is, why do we keep importing them?

* Police officer kicks assailant in head: Did you know it happened at Manchester Airport? Airports are prime targets for terrorists. Terrorists fit a certain profile. They could be carrying weapons. When people hit you, you generally hit them back, and after all they are the Police Force.

** Southport dance-class killings: Media focus switches from victims and perpetrator to accusations that ‘false claims about the attacker’ went viral. The riots start, and who, what and why are submerged beneath blanket MSM coverage of the threat we face from the ‘far right’. “I say, Binky old boy, I don’t think I’d know one if I saw one. They must be pretty rare, not like those ethnics and lefties, what! They take to the streets like boats on water!”

Attention: Diversion Ahead!
The heartfelt sigh of relief from certain ruling quarters and the leftist MSM when the riots kicked off in the aftermath of the Southport carnage could be heard all over the country, especially in the capital. If you are of a cynical mind you might suspect that this diversion was the one they had been waiting for.

The leftist mainstream media were off the chocks like a 1970s’ streaker on ice: “Far Right Riots!!!” they shrieked. The government seized on this diversionary tactic to condemn the rabble in no uncertain terms, vowing to bring them to justice Edgar J Hoover style (He looks a bit like him, don’t you think?) Strong and stronger words were uttered!

In keeping with the modern idiom, the mainstream media did not report, it ranted, raged and fumed and then it slammed and blasted, and at the height of this hullabaloo the issue of and the evils of relentless immigration were quietly, oh so quietly, swept beneath the liberal-left carpet. Whilst all this was going on, whilst the ‘anti-protesters’, Hope Not Hate, Unite Against Fascism, Stand Up Against Anything That Makes Us Sound Incredibly Virtuous (emphasis on the ‘incredibly’), and all the other touchy-feely left-wing Marxist groups (who seem to act like fascists themselves), were getting the full-praise treatment from an extremely grateful establishment and the nasty far-right fascists the full force of the law, over the Channel in France, gangs of Sudanese cut-throats were swotting up on their riot techniques, using knives and machetes to ensure a place in the boats waiting to bring them to easy-touch Britain, where, once ensconced in their free hotels, they will sleep the sleep of the privileged and awake the following morning to face the full and formidable force of a traditional English breakfast. There! Let that be a lesson to them! It serves them right for coming!

Next stop, Britain’s streets!

How and when did it all go wrong? Queen Victoria asks.

It all started going wrong at the end of the Second World War with cheap imported labour. Then, as now, we were told that immigration was good for us, a bit like eating one’s greens (ay up, that sounds quite racist!). It was beneficial for the economy. Then as now it was beneficial, but only for the few. In the short term, the few cashed in; in the long term the rest of us paid the price. We continue to pay the price today, but the stakes are considerably higher.

Now, several decades later, with the zealous help of the pseudo-liberals, a country of unparalleled excellence, a country to be proud of, has been thrown back into the dark ages, its towns and cities trashed and transformed into something resembling third-world ghettos.

And so the riots start

In the days leading up to the riots, Britain witnessed a series of precipitating events. First there was the ethnic riots in Leeds. Cause, we are told, anti-police sentiments. Don’t like the police much, time to the smash the city up. Then came the stabbing of a UK military serviceman, targeted, it was suggested, because he was in uniform. It has really come to something if you dare not wear your uniform in the country that you serve; is that what I hear you say? Believe it or not, it is policy. Members of His Majesty’s Armed Forces are advised not to wear their uniforms when in public places. Yep, Britain really is that dangerous. I have even stopped wearing my Girl Guides’ uniform.

The next provocation to hit the mainstream headlines was the Manchester Airport incident, in which a police officer was accused of kicking a man in the head. A video taken at the time shows that he and his colleagues had been assaulted. The attack was violent and sustained, and the officer fought back. One tends to do so when assaulted, and besides he has a job to do. He works in the British police force. That’s ‘force’, spelt f-o-r-c-e, for those who are liberal dyslexic.

The officer accused was suspended pending investigation, a thousand apologies issued, and the ethnics and their lefty chums took to the streets in force on the evidence of a video selectively edited and quickly posted on social media platforms purporting to show police brutality.

The final spark to the tinder box that set a montage of riots in motion was the brutal killing of three young white girls at a community centre in Southport.

Police at airports
Whilst we wait with anticipation on the verdict of the police officers’ conduct at Manchester airport that sparked ethnic protests that we don’t hear much about, I must say that it is reassuring to know in a country like ours, soft-touch Britain (soft for some), where the green light is routinely given for access to all kinds of people about which we know next to nothing, that our airports, which are prime targets for ruthless terrorist maniacs ~ Killers with a capital ‘K’ ~ are protected day and night by brave police and security forces, who have an extremely difficult and dangerous job to do. The last thing any of us want, who would rather not be obliterated whilst waiting in the departure lounge, is an airport overseen by demoralised, disempowered police, who, if and when the balloon goes up, are hamstrung when they need to act by the disconcerting thought that pillocks might be filming them on smartphones, and what will be the consequences if, heaven forbid, they have to use force. Let us hope and pray, therefore, that the result of the inquiry into the conduct of the officers protecting Manchester Airport does not jeopardise all of our lives by rendering airport police, and all police for that matter, even less effective than they have become in recent years through the disservice done to us all by the imposition of social media and winging wokist policies.

Much was made by the leftist media in response to the riots that followed in the wake of the Southport atrocity that false claims on social media relating to the stabman had triggered public disorder. But citing misinformation spread by social media as the definitive cause of the riots is a bottom-scraping exercise. As tragic and catalytic as the barbaric act in Southport is, the significance of this incident in relation to the riots is commensurate with the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

The riots, strictly speaking, are not a manifestation solely of recent events, as one-sided and tragic as they unequivocally are, but stem from an accumulation of deep, of bitter frustration, conjoined with a sense of national unease, that free-for-all immigration and the woke by which it is enforced is rotting British culture, contributing to the country’s crime wave, making the streets unsafe, advantaging foreign terrorists and turning British subjects into second-class citizens in their own country.

Since the on-stage debut of Tony Blair, Britons have been forced to accept wide and penetrating cultural changes, none of which they asked for, did not want and do not want; forced to pretend they are being ‘enriched’ ; forced to live in a shadowy world of rising crime and terrorism to which the only official answer is go home, hold hands and have candle-lit vigils. The end result, to coin a phrase, are riots waiting to happen.

UK Anti-Immigration Riots ~ Stop the Boats!

It is understandable why one faction of the pseudo-liberal cabal refuse to exit their little world and admit that it’s all gone terribly wrong. These are those who simply need to feel good about themselves, who crave the accolade of being enlightened, who refute the perils of mass immigration because every now and then Mrs Patel, from the house next door, makes them onion bhajis, and Mr Bingbongo, on the opposite side, speaks to them of religious conversion. Better get to it quick, I say! These are the liberal lefties who, though many of them mean well, have proven themselves to be as daft as they are insufferably gullible, who swallow, hook, line and sinker, the misinformation fed to them by those who owe them no greater allegiance than whatever it takes to exploit their simple childlike naivety.

At the command end of this miserable chain there exists a more insidious, a more invidious clan ~ you know who you are! ~ who will be rubbing their hands with glee as they witness the breakdown of law and order and the scenes of devastation playing out on Britain’s streets.

They, the ones in the shadows, the ones that pull the strings, have worked long and hard for things to go this way. They have lusted after division, and now at last they’ve got what they craved for. Like the average useful idiots, they sing the praises of multiculturalism, the wonders of diversity, but for them they have a different meaning in which peace and harmony play no part.

The newly elected Labour government and the usual media outlets which continue to push this far left agenda, as powerful as they are, are clearly out of their depth. Using the old distraction technique, they blame the riots on far-right thugs, thus focussing on the symptom rather than the cause, and in the process deliver the threatening message, ‘speak out of turn about immigration and we’ll slap an extremist label on you!’

When they speak they preach to the converts of old, Guardian and Independent readers, who, like drug addicts craving their daily fix, need to hear those magic words ‘far right’, and hear them loud and often. It binds them to their fantasy. For the rest of us, however, the truth is plain to see. Ninety-nine per cent of the British population are not, as a leftist journalist recently claimed, happy with mass immigration and the radical changes it has brought to our country. In fact, each and every one of us face a riot every day, a sad, a sickening, emotional one, which we struggle to contain, as we angrily watch from the sidelines a country that once had no equal being fly tipped into the swamp.

Allow me to put this in context: A few days ago, I attended a classic car show, where I met and spoke to a lot of English people. Car talk apart, the conversation inevitably shifted into a higher gear when someone mentioned the riots and from there into top gear when the state of the country was broached.

“It [the country’s] gone to the dogs,” one man spat. (I think he said the ‘dogs’.)

“I no longer think of it as ‘my’ country,” another cursed. I think this man was Indian.

And still another asserted, and he did not mince his words: “The UK is a s*it hole!”

A man who purported to be a former officer of the law, recently retired, got wind of our conversation. Standing in front of the fatty-fry van where we all were queuing, he swore an oath on the sign that said ‘Fish ‘n’ Chips the Great English Meal’, which was backed by a union jack, that he had to leave the police force as it was systemically anti-white British and sabotaged by the ‘yoke of woke’. I asked him to pass the vinegar. I believe he already had.

In the three hours I spent talking to people at this event, if there was anybody there who harboured a Guardian, Independent or Observer point of view that mass immigration is a wonderful thing and that the Britain we live in today is a safe, morally stable, decent, civilised liberal utopia then no one was letting on.

No one condoned the riots, but they evidently understood, more than the government wants to, the reason why they happened, and none were willing to buy the snake oil pedalled by mainstream media.

One person to whom I spoke did confess, reluctantly, with an air of self-conscious shame, as if he was looking for absolution, that he voted Labour at the last election, because there was something wrong with him. But when he came to his senses, he realised his mistake. Labour, he had realised, is the party of immigration. The Tories were simply inept, but Labour have an agenda, which is to flood the country with undesirables. “We’ve got enough of our own,” he declared, “So why do we want to import them?”

Another chap, who was busy observing a T-shirt printed with ‘Bald Lives Matter’ ~ My brother, between a mouthful of chips, looked self-consciously down at his stomach, no doubt wondering if ‘Fat Lives Matter’, whilst a friend wondered, or should have been wondering, if a case could be made for ‘Tight Lives Matter’, as he hadn’t paid for his chips, I had ~ declared, philosophically, in a broad Northamptonshire accent, “They [the establishment] are frit of ‘them’. ‘Them’ being you know who. That’s why we have this two, er, what do you call it, two-tyre policing and why hardly anyone gets arrested when foreigners go on the rampage.” He was actually more specific in naming who these foreigners are, and his expressions were liberally [pun intended] peppered with lots of f*cks and c*nts.” Now, if I had been a ‘counter-protester’ an ‘anti-fascist’ or (God forbid!) a craven apologist for Black Lives Matter (wait a minute whilst I take a knee ~ what a twat he looks!), I might have dismissed this impudent white man as a raging f*cking fascist and ignored whatever he had to say, riot or no riot!

I looked away at that point, as though I was trying to find in the not too distant but mythical future a T-shirt with the caption, “British White Views Matter”, but I must have been looking in the wrong direction, towards London and onto Downing Street, because no matter how I strained my eyes, my hopes and my imagination, the only thing that seemed to matter was that it no longer mattered to me, at least not as much as it will for those who though they are young today won’t be young tomorrow, and for those, the most unfortunate, the waiting-to-be-born, who will never know anything but the horror of tomorrow. Perhaps this is their silver lining: for them it will be as it is; not as for us, as it was.

UK Anti-Immigration Riots caused by liberal lies

I looked again and what I could see, as plain as the House of Commons, was an awful lot of bullshit, the sort that could easily nurture the roots of the UK’s civil war, as predicted by Elon Musk.

Civil War in the UK: Will there or won’t there be?

I, personally, do not think there will be a civil war, at least not in the accurate sense of the term, because a civil war presupposes two opposing sides each identifying with itself as distinct from one another, and this is unlikely to happen in the situation we have in Britain, because diversity has done away with absolute cohesion, which is, as I am sure you know, one of the more subversive reasons for engineered diversity.

Moreover, the people who really count, or should stand up and be counted, the British white middle class, have their ‘I’m alright Jack’ arses firmly and forever perched upon the non-comital fence, preferring to hide in the dangerous belief that saying and doing nothing is the better part of valour. Besides, they, in the mind they inhabit, are far enough removed in their leafy suburbs and quiet rural backwaters to be spared the worst of whatever goes down in Britain’s towns and inner cities, and their take on the situation is that as long as they keep on looking anywhere rather than where they should be looking, never revealing what they think, never saying what they feel and on no account what they fear, this, they keep their fingers crossed, will be the saving of them. They are wrong.

As for the left-wing faithful, the useful voting idiots, they will still be parroting the same old simpleton mantras with which they have been indoctrinated even when it is all too late, when, like the obedient sheep they are, they are led away to the slaughter. And even then as the curtain descends, the truth will refuse to occur to them that the ‘far right’ was never their nemesis. They betrayed themselves with their own ideology, poisoned themselves in the end with the lies with which they had poisoned the country for years.

No, I see the UK ending up somewhere between the twilight world of dystopias Sweden and South Africa, with the chauffeur-driven rich ring-fenced and body guarded inside their gated compounds, whilst out there on the streets, the no-go areas echo nightly to gunfire, screams and wailing sirens, and should you really have no option but to walk from A to B, you do so at your peril and never without your stab vest.

Already when dusk descends on Britain’s towns and upon its cities, we bolt the windows and bar the doors. The zombies are out on the streets at night. Has anyone seen a copper?

(By the way, has anyone else, I wonder, noticed that the countries worst impacted by ‘come one and all’ immigration are those that traditionally see themselves as paragons of liberalism? Just saying …) Sectarian violence, lawless streets, an escalation of knife crime, gang warfare by race and religion, flashes of inter-ethnic conflict, the dirty business of vigilantes and an endless cycle of civil disorder and riots policed by robo-cops, possibly even standing armies, this could well be Britain’s future, but civil war, not yet.

UK Anti-Immigration Riots Herald New Dystopian Era

Mr Starmer’s answer to this apocalyptic vision is to form a ‘standing army’, a militia ~ er, but where is the money coming from to fund this standing army? We cannot even afford more coppers. (And the way we treat our coppers, will anyone want to do the job?) I feel a tax hike coming on. But I do not see that standing army.

The UK’s New ‘Standing Army’

The task of this new yeomanry, be it fictious or not, is to ensure that Britain’s rioters ~ rioters of a particular type ~ feel ~ make no mistake ~ ‘the full force of the law’ (PC women Melons and Bristols, this is the news you’ve been waiting for!). So, does that mean, may I ask, that this is the end of policing as we know it: “Now let’s sit down, have a nice cup of tea and discuss the problems you might be having?” “Thank you Mr Whitey Policeman, wait a moment whilst I adjust my machete. Do you think you could hold it for me?”

In case it has escaped the new prime minister’s notice, may I gently remind him that Britain already has a standing army, it’s called the British police force. They do a lot of standing, particularly during pro-Palestine rallies, at Black Lives Matter riots and at stab-fest events like Notting Hill Carnival. They also do a lot of standing whenever they cannot avoid anti-social behaviour ~ which is every day and everywhere. I hasten to add that it is not their fault; it is not what police officers want to do; it is what they are told to do. The thin blue line has never looked thinner.

“It’s a sh*t hole!” cried the Englishman. For once, it was not his country to which he was referring but the town in which he lived. “We don’t have to wait for a riot in [name of town withheld], we have one almost every night. The town centre is plagued by gangs of nasty little shits kitted out in hoodies and ski masks. They dig the flowers out of the planters and chuck them at passing cars. A few weeks back, they were up there, up there on the roof, slinging mud and masonry down into the High Street. The police arrived. Did nothing. They just stood in the street and watched!”

Police officers are not to blame for ~ excuse me whilst a borrow a phrase ~ this non-two-tier passivity. Like teachers, with whom they balance precariously on the literal knife-edge of Britain’s frontline, they are victims of insuperable woke and ultimately the lightening rods for all of society’s liberal left ills.

A funny thing is happening
The government, using the mainstream media’s trumpet, keep blowing hot with riots that never materialise. The ‘expected riots’ are named by area, large crowds of ‘peaceful protestors’, ethnic and seen-to-be-doing-the-right-thing whiteys, invade the areas named and stand there on their own for hours with no one to be peaceful with. What a waste of banner-making time! Well, it keeps them off the streets … Oh, wait a minute. Then, the next day, or even shortly afterwards, along from the 1950s comes that stern school master Mr Starmer and takes the credit for backing the rioters down, who, apparently, dare not show in case they become the hapless recipients of the ‘full force of the law’.

I imagine the police are wondering what exactly the full force is, as, for the past 30 years, they have been schooled to deal with offenders with the kid gloves of a social worker and the diplomacy normally reserved for a job in public relations. However, you would do well to remember this, that if you are taking part in a riot and your shirt is brown and moustache faintly similar to that of Mr Hitler’s, then the rules of the game are likely to change and definitely not in your favour.

So, what we need, my dear Mr Starmer, what we desperately need, is not a ‘standing army’ but a competent, well-equipped, non-woke-manacled nationwide series of riot squads, and we need them fast and everywhere, up and down the country. But we need them to be impartial. It is essential they are fair, because if the only arses they kick are white ~ and remember YouTube is watching ~ then Mr Elon Musk’s prediction of the imminence of civil war may well be brought to fruition quicker than you anticipate, and if that day doth suddenly dawn, then we’ll all be standing by Liz Truss Door, ready to follow her example, preferably wearing full-force roller skates that will guarantee our exit like, if you’ll pardon my use of colloquialism, shit off a shiny shovel. Play it again, Harry Corbett: “Bye, Bye, Country, Bye, Bye.”

It may already seem to Mr Starmer, who, and let’s be fair about this, has not been in the hot seat long, just long enough to get his trousers scorched ~ and how! ~ that he finds himself in a rather bad place: the wrong place at the wrong time. Oh, why did he give up that paper round! But nothing could be further from the truth. If he did but know it, the place he is in is the right one, and the timing could not be better. He has been given a first-class opportunity to rise to the challenge of statesman, to address the ills of the country, to strike a humanist balance, to patch up divisions across communities (where they can be patched), to become a prime minister like those of the past who dealt with the present in terms of the future, one who puts the people first, all of the people first and fairly. Would you rather go down in history as the man who got it right, or join your political peers and predecessors, ineffectual and out of touch, who one by one have fizzled, or are in the process of fizzling, out, leaving the political table, as though everyone knew it was them who farted and never did anything else. Or, even more damning than this, be remembered as that man who, when given the chance to save his country, blew it. He locked himself in the liberal mindset and, ignoring the value of those people whose forbears built this country (Can people such as these really be replaced by hoards of swarthy young men who come bouncing rudely into England mounted on top of inflatables?] effectively signed the UK’s death warrant.

Try listening. It might help!

The key to stopping the riots and the general sense of unease that is spreading like a rampant pestilence across this once great Christian land is to use it to close and lock the gates at Dover. Stop the boats. Stop the immigrants. Listen to what it is that legacy Britons are saying. Ditch the Machiavellian creeds of disgraced Prime Minister Tony Blair. Withdraw the UK from the ECHR, tear up that beguiling document the Convention on Human Rights, return to police their pre-woke powers, rid the streets of crime, tackle the sprogs who blight our neighbourhoods, stop and search regardless of colour, stand as firm against ethnic rioters and the PC blackmail that oils their cogs and defends them from arrest as you would against those nasty far whites, show the country as a whole that the day of the limp-wristed, bed-wetting lefty and his media misinformation network has run its evil course, come to an end, is finished, kaput, is over. It sounds like an awful lot, but it really is not that difficult. All you need is love for your people and, unlike your immediate predecessors, to be a proper prime minister.

Over to you, Mr Prime Minister, it really is your call.

Right Wing Thugs, Political Prisoners, Martyrs or Robin Hoods?
The only way to restore real law and order in the UK, as distinct from soundbite law and order, is to ensure that it is applied fairly and without prejudice right across the board. Calling white rioters the ‘far right’ and then banging them up with disproportionate sentences is a sure-fired way of turning them into martyrs. As it is, a good many of the anti-immigrant protestors will wear their prison sentence with pride and will be regarded throughout the prisoner fraternity as patriots, political prisoners, ordinary people wrongly, unjustly convicted for standing up for their families and the preservation of their sovereign country against what they, and a good many like them, see as a repressive socio-political system out to destroy all they hold dear.

If they are to ‘feel the full force’ of the law, then come the next ethnic riots, as come they surely will, the same condemnation and same stiff sentences had better be applied, or off we will go again on the embittered and violent merry go round, with more rhetoric, more harsh sentences, nothing gained and everything lost. It is advisable to consider that those involved in the riots who are facing the law’s ‘full force’ have brothers, family, friends, compatriots, colleagues, and that everyone of these, together with YouTube and social media addicts, will be watching very closely to see if the accusation of two-tier policing can be equally applied to the country’s judicial system.

If a partisan link can be established between government, police and the courts, they, the ones subjected to the full force of the law, may begin to see themselves, as may the voting white majority, as latter-day Robin Hoods, come to save, at the risk of their personal liberty, white tattooed English maidens from an embarrassing fate worse than death (For heaven’s sake think of the pups!), pitting themselves heroically against the evil wiles of the Sheriff of Shock-it-to-them: “The full force of the law, I tell you!” [An elastic band twangs off stage] and his globalist boss King John, aka Big George Sorryarse, the most philanthropic of migrant traffickers the world has ever known (and Hungary disowned). Where will it all end? Usually, after crossing the Channel, in luxury five-star hotels. Cheap at half the price, I say; only £8 million a day.

Meanwhile, not in hotels but languishing in Britain’s prisons is the country’s heritage population, who, before they made a name for themselves as ‘facing the full force’ rioters, were only guilty of thinking and stating, “The migrant invasion has to stop. They really should go home.” They really do have a point, don’t they.

>>>>> / >>>>> Is the UK in Multicultural Meltdown? <<<<< / <<<<<

Image attributions

White Cliffs of Dover: Image by Wolfgang Claussen from Pixabay: https://pixabay.com/photos/white-cliff-dover-england-rock-4411680/
Do Not Enter sign: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Do-not-enter-traffic-sign-vector-image/16637.html
T Shirt: https://www.wpclipart.com/clothes/shirt/tee_shirt_front.png.html
Ear: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Gray-ear-illustration/80532.html
Copper: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Stern-policeman/74485.html
Toilet roll: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Toilet-paper-roll-in-green-vector-illustration/22039.html
Robin Hood: <a href="/ru/”https://www.vecteezy.com/free-vector/robin-hood”/">Robin Hood Vectors by Vecteezy</a>

Some videos on the subject

Manchester kicking video: Ex-police sergeant furious at ‘no respect’ for officers – ‘Do as you’re bloomin’ told!’ (gbnews.com)

2023 UK Woke Hits an All Time High!

Bing Crosby’s White Christmas Symphony No. 9 in Morris Minor

20 December 2023 ~ 2023 UK Woke Hits an All Time High!

It was cold in April. It was cold in May. Come to think of it, it was cold in the UK, not to mention wet, from April to September. I was staying with a friend for some of this time, where I only had the gas heating on for two hours a day. Even so, the gas bill, together with electricity, ie one light bulb ~ my friend is a tight old sod ~ clocked up about 200 quid per month! I know, I know, it’s all ‘a certain president’s fault’.

We were in Aldi’s supermarket, the only place we dare shop nowadays without taking out a mortgage, when we heard a woman (I think ‘it’ was a woman. You never can tell these days.) behind us at the checkout complaining bitterly about the hike in food costs. Suddenly, my brother Joss, who never takes with him or buys a carrier bag at the supermarket (he’s saving his pocket, not the planet) but always transports his groceries in one of those open-ended, partially broken, sad and saggy inadequate boxes kicking around in supermarkets, on hearing the woman’s complaints, slaps the box upon his head and proceeds to vituperate: “I know! It’s all so terrible in this country. I’m going to hide in this cardboard box. Maybe they’ll go away.” He did actually say, ‘they’ll all go away’. I looked around the supermarket, and I think I know what he meant. However, we don’t know for certain what he meant, because with a cardboard box upon his head, he could have said virtually anything and could have been almost anybody. He could have rowed up the village brook in an inflatable rubber thingy with a Royal Navy escort, declared he came from the land of Cardboard Bongo and, consulting his list of rights and benefits, demanded of the police that they chauffeur him to the nearest hotel. None of your bed and breakfast, mind; anything less than 5-star treatment would degrade the red-carpet welcome.

Anyway, as the box in question had an open end, I twizzled it around on Joss’s head, an action which would have certainly turned his toupee back to front had it not been stuck down with UHU. Now the box was a TV set, so Joss decided to read the news. “Here is the news from the BBC. Whatever it is, it’s all P….’s fault!”

Before leaving the supermarket, I apologised to the people gathered at the checkout for having mentioned Mr Ps name numerous times in the space of two minutes, but, showing them the roubles in my wallet, went on to explain that we have an arrangement with him, viz every time we mention his name in Britain, he pays us a hundred roubles.

I’m not one for confessions or for making and signing statements, but I must confess and state simultaneously that I cannot remember the last time I had so much fun in a supermarket, certainly not recently and possibly not since a childhood friend and I were nabbed in one by a store detective. I can see him now, this stocky, cocky, store detective, striding up behind us, just as we were about to clear checkout, his face wreathed in triumph. He thought he had caught a couple of shoplifters, but we were nothing of the sort. So, he had to let us go, never knowing how close he had come to revealing the identity of the notorious local stock shifters.

Before adopting a moral stance, you must make allowance for the fact that in those days, before the advent of Play Station and when enslavement to the smartphone was just a twinkle in Bill Gates’ eyes, we had, as the expression goes, to make our own entertainment, and how we used to do this in the supermarket was to amble around from shelf to shelf surreptitiously shifting things from one place to another. It was, indeed, a rewarding sight to behold jars of Marmite amongst the saucepans and a tin of baked beans or two sitting next to the Brillo pads. Just think what fun could be had today, now supermarkets sell condoms. The possibilities are endless (I’m sure there’s a Freudian reference here?).

But don’t you talk about supermarkets! Shocked, I was, and I said so to Mavis. Didn’t I Mavis? Didn’t I say I was shocked! And it is shocking, not to mention inexcusable (But, of course, it’s all that ‘certain president’s’ fault!) — Britain’s escalation in food prices: Weetabix £4 a packet! A bottle of brown sauce £3.30! A packet of crisps £1.50 … Well, you know for certain you’re a hopeless old fart when you carry on like this. But what about the price of beer! If I carry on like this, I’ll wear out my exclamation key! There, did you see that! There it goes again!

2023 UK Woke Hits an All Time High!

My brother Joss won’t drink in certain pubs and in certain pubs he can’t because he’s barred. He won’t drink in pubs where he knows that the beer is priced at over a fiver a pint and in pubs where he doesn’t know and is taken unawares, he always complains. He also complains about the quality of the beer, ergo poor quality, and always rather loudly.

“It’s alright,” I said in a resigned voice, when the offended look on the barmaid’s face caught my eye and her eye mine (Were we wearing eye patches?), “I’m used to being ashamed of him”.

Summer in the UK

Since summer in the UK was such an abysmal washout, it enabled me to get down to some serious … beer drinking? That too, but I was going to say stuff shifting. In order to accomplish this gargantuan feat, I had to resort to eBay. I hadn’t used the eBay platform for quite some time, but I soon got back into the swing of things, once I had complained my way through their two-step verification system.

Two-step verification, indeed! I told that globalist, that pseudo-leftist Gaters. “Gaters,” I said, I call him that, you know, “Gaters, what’s it all about then, ay, this two-step verification? If you ask me, it’s more globalist quick step than two step: the swiftness of the feet deceives the arse you’re kicking and whilst we are feeling the pain, you’ve snatched our mobile phone numbers and locked your global trackers onto our locations. It’s all grist to the surveillance mill, the keeping tabs on us all, the inverted 1984, where it’s not the fascists we have to watch out for, at least not in the traditional sense, but the fascistic sanctimonious, pseudo-liberal lefties led by the usual suspects (those well-known US rich families (really my boy, my boy) and their friends in the Davos set).

Of course, I could have gone on saying this until the proverbial sheep came home (‘Merrr, I’ve had my jab!’), but as you, me and the gateposts know, the gateposts we have in parliament, it would not have made a ha’peth, or rather billions of quid’s worth, of difference, because already the globalist mob is no doubt plotting their next Plandemic and rubbing their hands in anticipation of the monstrous profits to come. However, I would have said something to that effect had I not been deplatformed first, labelled a far-right extremist, been banned from tweeting on Twatter and suffered the near misfortune of having my bank account nobbled, as they tried to do with Nigel Farage. Now that wasn’t two-step verification, it was a step in the wrong direction! The goons who pulled that stunt were soon up on their feet doing the shithouse shuffle, as good old Nigel proved again, he is just too strong and too astute for the pseudo-libs to take on.

WOKE WATCH UK!

You know, being a conspiracy theorist and a far-right extremist is not as easy as might be imagined. It would be a lot less difficult to go with the flow, go down to Dover harbour with a bog roll in my hand and beg the third world and its wife (don’t want to be labelled sexist), please can I wipe your arses before the taxpayer-funded police chauffeur you to your waiting hotels and shower you with benefits. What a terribly ‘wacist’ thing to say!

I thought it a bit racist, although not entirely unapplicable, when I heard a bloke down Wetherspoons say … I think he was bloke? (Once you could tell a bloke from a gal by the tattoos that he was sporting, but now that women have taken to tats and to shrapnel shoved in their lips and snouts, it’s difficult to determine who has and who hasn’t the meat and two veg. (By the way, how’s your memory? Do you remember Ena Shrapnel? Give me the hairnet any day (Corrr!) rather than tats and bolts.) Anyway, getting back to the point, which is? Well, I heard this manly man, who may or may not have been a man, say: “Turn that telly off! If I wanted to watch the coonmercials, I would have stayed at home!”

Ah! there goes the theme tune to Love Thy Neighbour.

Britain’s social engineering programme has advanced quite spectacularly over the past five years. The Tories have excelled themselves. They have stolen a march on the Liebour party, beating them at their own game, and flushed with their success are leading with the initiative in sexual engineering. The adverts are a case in point. The next time you go to the pub, presuming that you still go to the pub with beer the price it is, see how many men you can spot who look as though together they have recently won the lottery.

Where’s Frankie Howard and Larry Grayson when you need them most? Now it’s no longer a Catholic sin, let’s hope that they are having fun bumming around in heaven.

They’ve won the lottery!!

My particular favourite sexual engineering advert is the one where the les goes into the shop, says something to the girl behind the counter, the girl behind the counter replies, and the les, who misunderstands her, says, “I’m sorry, I already have a girlfriend!” And the nice black man behind her, who doesn’t look like a mugger at all and besides is a British citizen, titters away as though he knows that the advert he will star in next will see him relishing Sunday lunch around the family’s middle-class dining table.

And what is it about British TV, I hear you ask? If Billy Cotton was still around he would not be shouting ‘Wakey! Wakey’ so much as ‘Wokey! Wokey!’

I threw away my telly many years ago, long before British broadcasting sank beneath the surface of degradation. Did you Mike? You do surprise me. And it wasn’t because of the BBC licence fee, as so much joy can be had from receiving their threatening letters. But this summer, probably because it was so inhospitable that we spent more time inside, the telly at somebody else’s house could not always be avoided. I saw, for example, a segment or two (and that was quite enough) of the Ukraine Vision Song Contest, some of The King’s Coronation on the Royalty Abolitionist Channel and couldn’t really miss the seeming perpetuality of big butch pony-tailed ladies charging around the football pitch, who seem to have no qualms at all about muscling in on what little remains of Britain’s emasculated working-class males’ last bastion of blokeyness.

I also allowed myself the wonder of watching the news on the odd occasion, the wonder being whatever happened to the impartiality ethic? Time was when the news anchor (now re-spelt with a capital ‘W’) would simply read the news. Now they no longer report, they lead, invent and manipulate and for nebulous liberal ends. However, every unpaid licence fee has a silver lining, which is that as long as you know it’s not really the news, it can be entertaining.

For example, have you heard the one about the fire service chap who allegedly suffered a mental breakdown. He was interviewed in his home, looking all wan and lachrymose, by a young ~ I think he was male ~ reporter, who really did overdo it slightly on the ‘I’ve got to look so serious’ level. Perhaps he works for the BBC, where woke is a serious business.

Every now and again, between solemn interludes of conversation and OTT serious looks, the camera would pan, zoom in and focus on a broken mirror on the sitting-room wall, which looked, by my experience, as if someone had put their fist through it. Gritty symbolic stuff, ay! But try to remember that this is the ‘news’, or rather the news is what it professes to be, not a dramatised documentary.

Given the nature of the job, it is common knowledge that firemen suffer breakdowns (note the traditional use of the proper word ‘firemen’). Heaven knows how these men contend with their lot. In the course of duty, they are subject to unthinkable scenes of horror and human tragedy. Hardly surprising, therefore, that even the strongest men crack (Now, now, it’s not what you’re thinking!). But it was not danger or tragedy, tragedy in the accepted sense, or so we were asked to believe, that had caused this gentleman’s breakdown. According to the ‘news’, which was heavily biased in tone and format, his illness had been brought about by his having been ignored when repeatedly calling out the fire service for its alleged culture of systemic sexism.

2023 UK Woke Hits an All Time High!

WTF?! Call me old-fashioned (You Old Fart, you!), but my long-held belief has been that first, centre and foremost, the duty of the fire service is to put out fires and save lives. I certainly don’t recall anything in my primary school books, Janet and John (now Abdul and Lola), about sexist firemen running amuck with their choppers in their hands. I do remember the Village People sliding down a greasy pole not looking like chaps and in nothing but chaps, but that was the 1970s, when men were men and poofs were poofs, and never the twain would meet (so we were led to believe). But a fire service that lets off damp squibs for the sake of claiming compensation, why you’ll be asking me next to believe that public money is actually spent on funding wokist causes, for example something as unimaginably silly as black and pink police associations! It’s Monty Python’s UK Circus!

Ho!Ho!Ho! Hark! Which Santa is that who is coming down the chimney. I hope he’s wearing a condom. Sorry about that, and everything … around me … all over the UK … but as Frank Zappa once famously said, “I can outrage anybody, if they want to be outraged.”

Don’t try this at home, or if you live in Brighton!

More recently, I outraged myself ~ and bear in mind, please, that ‘outraged myself’ is not the same as ‘outed myself’. For years I have been at the forefront of the Smartphone Resistance League, so successfully I might add that my avoidance of the smartphone earnt me this saintly sobriquet: ‘The last man on Earth to own a mobile phone’.

Thus, it was with great sorrow and a distinctly uneasy sense that I was not only letting myself down but anti-technocrats everywhere, when I allowed myself to be dragged, proverbially kicking and screaming, along to the mobile phone shop, where, with a heaviness in my heart beyond the expression of indescribable, I signed myself away to that … to that, terrible, terrible mobile thing!

“Yet something else,” I grumbled, “to cart around in your pocket.” It will be difficult fitting it in [“It’s so big you’ve got to grin to get it in!” ~ do you remember the Wagon Wheels advert?], with all the street survival kit you need in Britain today ~ CS gas cannister, stun gun, beam-me-out-of-the-21^st-century flip-top radio, mugger’s alley cloak of invisibility etc etc. Thank heavens my stab- and bullet-proof vest has pockets!

“This ‘aint very Christmasy is it?! Let’s see what’s on the other channel.”

A party-political broadcast on behalf of you can put your cross where you like, but it won’t stop mongrelisation.

Wherever you go in life, even in somebody else’s, there’s always a heckler. But what the heck, it might only be a linguistic device! Anyway, whilst you and your family are sitting around a blazing Christmas fire, with coal you’ve stolen from the next-door neighbours, wearing party hats, wondering why, and cracking your nuts. I shall be pulling my own cracker and … That’s odd? What is? Everything. I thought I just heard someone sing, “I wish it could be Christmas every day.” Those hats! Those nuts! Pulling your own cracker! For eternity! No fear. Ha! Ha! I can see the Christmas TV adverts now: More black than white and oh so extremely gay.

Right, bugger all that, I’m off to make a cup of tea. Ginger, the cat, is squinting at me, but only with his right eye. I think he wants a monachal for Christmas. This is something that’s easily fixed. It’s what Bing Crosby is dreaming of that isn’t.

Image attributions
Santa on a chimney: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Santa-Claus-on-a-Chimney/87236.html
Men with television heads: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Men-with-television-heads/71285.html
Vintage exotic dancer: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Vintage-exotic-dancer/73821.html
Football: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Soccer-ball-with-shadow-vector-drawing/14654.html
Men shaking hands: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Business-People-Shaking-Hands-Vector/2306.html
Merry Christmas: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Retro-Christmas-Text-Banner/87299.html

Britain a Nice Place to Live on the Telly

It never rains but it pours!

24 August 2023 ~ Britain a nice place to live on the telly

As coronavirus begins to look more and more like an unsolved crime, leaving many people wondering if they should really have had those jabs, and now that the conflict in Ukraine has passed its media sell-by date, thanks mainly to the British public’s notorious attention-span deficit, the climate-warming bandwagon has taken to the road again, strapped to which is a dubious sidecar, artificial intelligence. Billed by UK media as the greatest threat to humanity since Britain’s extended opening hours (licensed premises or the country’s borders?), an arguably greater threat to us all than artificial intelligence must surely be our national failure to use the intelligence with which we were born when defining our relationship with truth and what we see on the telly.

Britain a nice place to live on the telly

You might ask what I, the Chairman of the TV Temperance Society, is doing sitting in front of the telly, and you would be right to do so. The answer is simple: During my recent tour of duty here in the UK, my predicament is one in which I have found myself exposed, and not infrequently, to the TV set of a friend, who, for reasons only known to himself, insists on ‘catching the news’.

Catching the news in the UK is a little like catching coronavirus, catching the adverts is worse, the only difference being that those we never believed or trusted before the onset of coronavirus and anti-Brexit hype, and whom we believe and trust a whole lot less in hindsight, have no desire to protect us from these twin pestilences with a vaccine false or otherwise. Thus, when we watch the news, or watch anything on British TV, it is our own immune system, our God-given common sense, in which we must rely, not Big Pharma.

I must say (why?) that having not ‘watched telly’ for a considerable period of time, 17 years in fact, from a purely academic perspective, the experience is quite an interesting one. For example, take the conmercials.

As well as attempting to persuade us to buy something and/or fork out for a service that we do not need and would better do without, TV adverts have become an integral part of the media’s, and by default the British Government’s, perpetual drive to convince us that all is hunky dory; that the UK has at last become the happy, harmonic multicultural melting pot that Enoch Powell predicted it could never be. To a lesser extent, yet creeping through the woke back door left open, LGBTQ is also ideologically embedded in British TV advertising, suggesting that all to a man are firmly behind the movement … so to speak.

Fundamentally, there is nothing wrong with this, in fact it is essential, dramatically essential, that however disingenuous the product they are pushing, we are willing to buy into it. As it happens (thank you Jim!), we really have no choice. Having made our multicultural bed without the permission of due democratic process, it is the job of our string-pulled political classes to make sure that we quietly lie in it … innit!

Britain a Nice Place to Live on the Telly

So, there is an awful lot more foreigners floating around in the adverts than there was when I last watched television 17 years ago. The people pecking order is blacks first, then Asians and here and there the odd oriental, which, again, is fine, in the sense that, like it or not, this is where we are at in modern-day Britain, give or take a few Albanians and also half of Ukraine.

At a cursory glance, for example over the top of your mobile phone, the inference could be that it is a red letter and rainbow day for the concept of inclusivity. But look again; all is not well. The British-on-paper-only folk, as distinct from Britons by lineage, are not stereotyped by characteristics universally associated with who they are and where they hail from, all of which would be jolly liberal if not for the ironic fact that the TV remodelled version is more like ‘us’ than we are ourselves.

Becoming ‘more like us’ is a strange, strangely controversial and also amusing phenomenon, why? Because nobody on our TV adverts and nobody’s lifestyle as portrayed on TV bears the slightest resemblance to ‘us’ ~ to our lifestyles, to what we think, to what we say and the way we feel, least of all to what we think and feel about our reconstituted, repackaged country.

Britain a nice place to live on the telly

TV adverts would have us believe, and it is make-believe pure and simple, that everyone in the UK inhabits a star-spangled realm where, regardless of background and ethnicity, we are middle-class, upwardly mobile, swanking it up in des-res properties (warm and with the lights all blaring, and don’t forget incessantly grinning, irrespective of soaring utility costs ), united by shared cultural values and generally ‘’avin’ it large” together. Naturally unnaturally, this televised illusion of what and who as a nation we are is complete and utter fiction, but when all is said and done the fiction is a nice one.

‘Nice’ is something that in my absence, British TV has almost mastered. Not entirely, however, as it continues to churn out sleazy, violent, tacky programmes, front and centre of which are a plethora of films and dramas which, in the days before life went virtual, would never have got past the censor. But cut through the sleaze and primeval viciousness, the woke blancmange and PC tripe, and the overall impression is (please sing along together now) ‘we all live in a rainbow submarine’. It is finely tuned, perfectly balanced, well-adjusted and ~ this is the all-important bit ~ effortlessly inclusive.

This kudos, or a fair proportion of it, must be ascribed to the hand-picked newsreaders and the sterling performance they give. My favourites, but then I am bias because of my personal, historic connections with Norwich, are those nice people who present Anglia Regional News. A more affable bunch of English people you would be very hard-pushed to find, especially off the telly ~ think needle in a haystack. How could you not help warm to them, this rare and endangered species?

Admittedly, it does not harm Norwich any that its geographic location puts a fair distance between it and some of our country’s less salubrious cities and that the Norfolk and Suffolk regions are some of the finest examples of Englishness the nation has yet to lose. Thus, give or take the odd exception ~ since the country as a whole is nowhere near as nice as the make-believe one served up on the box and certainly not as safe and stable ~ the news from rural regions can often be more palatable than the horror seeping daily out from those manky NO-GO Areas, which, we are officially told, do not exist in Britain. Stand by to ‘pull the other one’!

Another feather in the media’s illusory cap (Do you recognise it? It hangs down limply with bells on.) are, without question, the weather forecasters. This little band of interluders, are such a welcome breath of fresh air ~ even when it isn’t windy ~ that they can make the weather in Britain seem nice when in fact it has not stopped piddling with rain since summer was announced.

Torrential rain, gale-force winds, perpetually overcast skies, temperatures like the arctic, however bad it may be, our presenters keep on smiling. Land heaves, earthquakes, asteroid apocalypse, whatever the state of play (Look up! It’s a nuclear strike!) the face of the British weather forecaster always wears a smile.

And this is as right as alright can be, because in a country the social stability of which grows more precarious day by day, a country in which it is virtually impossible to stay in a hotel without sharing a room with an Albanian drug dealer, a country where the political classes are more obsessed with woke than ensuring safety on the streets, a country in which its police force says ‘blame it on your politicians’, a country where no one dare switch on the heating since the cost of gas and electric has spiralled out of control, a country where millions of pounds are squandered on financing futile conflicts in faraway lands which are none of its business, especially whilst legacy Britons sleep rough on our streets and the NHS is imploding due to egregious immigration indifference, more than ever before we, as a nation, are in dire need of solace, comfort and reassurance from the traction-gaining realisation that it is all going terribly wrong and that if we continue on the present trajectory it can only get much worse.

If television can work a miracle and make our country feel ‘nice’, then no matter how it does it, the BBC could honestly say, ~ if it remembers how to honestly say ~ that the risk of not paying your TV licence is worth the money it costs them to keep sending investigation letters that the world and its wife ignores.

I myself believe, however, that apart from being a very bad habit, lack of funds to do anything else and the exhaustion that naturally accrues from the daily lot of a wage slave, the flawed mentality of those who incessantly watch the box and take it all as gospel lies somewhere between ‘Don’t touch that dial!’ and TV’s shining, happy people.

Nice to see you, to see you nice, but anything more than that is so far from the truth as to make it powder-keg dangerous.

Here comes the intermission! Best go and make a cup of tea.

Lies and Democracy are they now the same thing?

Wake up! It’s not the coffee you’re smelling!

14 March 2023 ~ Lies and Democracy are they now the same thing?

When I left the UK for Kaliningrad in 2018, friends, acquaintances and business associates, but not family, who have ceased to be surprised by anything I do, responded to my decision in various ways, often extreme. I chronicled their reactions in a previous post: Moving to Russia from the UK.

When I returned to the UK after a three-year hiatus, some months after the (what shall we call it?) situation in Ukraine, I fully expected to meet with a barrage of acrimony lend leased from US propaganda and regurgitated by the UK media but was pleasantly surprised to find that the gauntlet I was prepared to run never materialised.

Brits who knew me, or knew of me, and where I now hailed from, were either conducting themselves with diplomacy or UK media had moved their mindset on ~ as it easily does ~ away from Ukraine, which in terms of audience captivation was yesterday’s news, to such earth-shattering speculations as does Prince Harry have a rogue allegiance gene passed down from his mother’s side of the family?

Does Prince Harry have a rogue allegiance gene passed down from his mother’s side of the family?

Ukraine was still in the limelight, still is in the limelight, as the fate of the globalist West depends on winning its war of attrition, but by the time I arrived in the UK it had already been put on the backburner to make way for more Woke and to annoy ‘far-right fascists’, ie the vast majority of white Brits who are genuinely concerned about the future of their country, with daily news and statistics regarding the state- and Sorryarse-sponsored cross-Channel immigrant invasion.

I agree that the UK’s immigration catastrophe is far more significant to my fellow countrymen than throwing taxpayers’ money away on a conflict which, if the western powers that control the UK government so desired, they could end as quickly as they started it. But UK politicians are in no hurry to do that in the same way that they are in no hurry to stop illegal immigration. Why the UK must lay out the red carpet for thousands upon thousands of Channel-taxied migrants and pay more than seven-million pounds a day to keep them in a style to which they are not accustomed, ie free bed and lodging in 5-star hotels (Ouch!), is beyond most people’s grasp, with the exception of the politically enlightened who understand only too well the moral and financial corruption with which the plan is funded. But why should we listen to them? According to the UK media, people who rebut pseudo-liberal machinations are not only right-wing fascists they are also conspiracy theorists.

Everything has a sell-by-date and even the British media, as skilled as it is in whipping up frenzies, cannot be expected to sustain an interest in Ukraine for long when other issues, like the immigration one, can be used just as effectively to foment controversy, up the sale of newspapers and harvest more clicks on their websites with which to con their advertisers. That’s why they call it the ‘corporate media’ folks.

Lies and Democracy and Social Media Spooks

The muted response from my fellow Brits to the situation in Ukraine when I last returned to England was in stark contrast to the overarching rabidity that broke loose in February 2022 at the time it was announced that Russia had taken the initiative out of the hands of the West. For UK corporate media this was ‘breaking news’, whereas on liberal-state compliant social media it was more like breaking wind, albeit on tornado scale.

Lies and Democracy spread by social media

Within minutes, not hours, my wife’s Facebook account was inundated with messages. Some of these, although panic fuelled and completely out of proportion to the events unfolding, were genuine messages, messages of concern: ‘Are you alright?’ But the majority, the mainstay, were liberal lefty, frithy-frothy and within this category, at the very epicentre, within the liberal eye of the storm, particularly and typically rabid and virulent.

Indeed, the repercussions were so electrifying that on the morning after the start of the mission in Ukraine, I wondered why I had started it? As the day went on, the vitriol on my wife’s Facebook account steadily accreted. I spent the entire morning batting back the incoming. At first it was all good fun. I can outrage anyone who wants to be outraged. But, after a while, I realised that if I was going to respond to every rant and rave, I would need to employ a PA (Personal Assistant) or at least an SS (Shit Stirrer).

Within three days of CSM (Crisis Social Media), during which more avatars were changed to funny little flags than had been changed to silly little rainbows two or three months earlier, and more underpants changed, I imagine, through the exigencies of cloned rage-fulfiment, my wife made the decision, before Mr P could ban Facebook, to close her Arsebook account. You know the expression, ‘you can have too much of a good thing’, well, three days of winding up the ranters was enough. It had to be brought to an end. There are more important things to do in life than play the liberal-left’s division game.

Nevertheless, I have to say that I cannot remember a time in recent history when I have enjoyed myself so much. In many respects I felt sorry for my fellow countrygenders. I could not fathom, and I still cannot fathom, why so many people on a tiny island are so eager to believe everything and anything that the media tells them, particularly as those same people on that same small island had been well and truly led up the garden path and thereabouts shafted by the self-same media about a crisis that they, the media, had in considerable part created ~ I am referring, of course, to coronabollocks.

You would have thought by now that the UK media would be the most distrusted corporate conglomerate this side of a fairy tale and as for the governments they represent, who would want to believe or trust either Liebour or the Cons?

The Labour/Conservative lies and democracy process is like a seesaw: up and down but nothng changes.

See Saw Nobody’s Sure
If Brits will have a New Master
Democracy is a cross in a box
But it’s always a liberal Disaster

Think Brexit. Why did most of the UK, real legacy Britons, not those with pieces of paper in their sweaty mits that say they are British, vote to get out of the EU? Rhetorical question: because they were and are sick of mass immigration and EU implemented Woke. And what did the British people get after Brexit? ~ mass illegal immigration on an unprecedented scale and more Woke than can be spread on a field during a rural shit-spreading season.

And whilst we are it, why would you trust and did you trust the Liebour-Con pact before Brexit? Who asked you if you wanted multiculturalism? Who asked you if wanted widespread Woke? And that’s just for starters. The urban shit-spreading season started long ago and is a lot fouler and smellier than anything that can be thrown up and about in the sticks.

So, for years, specifically since the crowning of Tony Blair (and wouldn’t you like to do just that!) your political parties, your government, your managed democracy, your corporate media have been lying to you, so why should you believe what they say about Ukraine?

The original Ukraine story (though not highly original) is this:

“The United States reaffirms its unwavering support for Ukraine’s sovereignty and territorial integrity within its internationally recognized borders, extending to its territorial waters. The U.S.-Ukraine relationship serves as a cornerstone for security, democracy, and human rights in Ukraine and the broader region.” ~ U.S. Department of State 😉

Obviously, given their ulterior motives, the US’ ‘unwavering support for … sovereignity and territorial integrity’ and ‘human rights [think cancel Russian culture]’ does not extend to Russia or to any other counry for that matter that is wise enough to reject the culture-crushing embrace of psuedo-liberal neo-imperialism.

The Brits, led by the Yanks and with poor old Western Europe dragged kicking and whining into the fray, and Turdeau joining in just because of what he is ~ a nasty piece of pseudo-liberal narcissism ~ cranked up the propaganda bandwagon and all aboard they went. First there was Vietnam, then Iraq, then Yugoslavia, then Afghanistan (for a comprehensive list see: US Interventions ) … so why should we believe that Ukraine is any different?

The US and its hangers-on are constantly flitting around the world looking for ‘places to liberate’. They are constantly bringing ‘democracy’ to people and to places who are doing quite nicely without it, thank you, at least without that liberal brand of democracy that has snake-oil written all over it. Moreover, they do about as much good as Christian missionaries did running around in Africa back in the 19^th century; in fact they do much worse. Sometimes, often in fact, they let their intentions slip, exposing themselves like novice flashers. For example, when that little phrase pops out of the open flies of democracy ‘intervention and regime change’. In other words, we are going to intervene in the private affairs of sovereign countries and install a liberal puppet. Watch out! There’s a lot of them about!

In the old days, chaps like Napoleon would meet their adversaries on a piece of land somewhere, and there they would slog it out; for Biden and the Brits Ukraine is such a field.

It’s not cricket, old boy. No, it certainly isn’t. What it is though, is this:

“The West wants to divide Russia into different entities in order to … put them under its control.” [The West’s plans for the division of Russia are set out on paper, Putin said – RIA Novosti, 26.02.2023]

And in case you are determined at any cost not to believe what commons sense tells you, stop social media twiddling (leftist bias) get out onto the internet and cast your eyes around. There are plenty of political commentators, political analysts, journalists, authors, geo-political institutes and just plain old Joe Public out there who agree with President Putin and many of those in agreement are citizens of the West. ‘Huh! All far-right extremists and fascists I expect!’ {An Independent My Arse reader.}

Being all liberal lefty on liberal lefty social media is all well and bad if all you are interested in is mutual backslapping or worse, but if you really want to know what real people think you have to broaden your horizons. Do you remember your father telling you that? Sorry? Oh, I forgot, we don’t have fathers anymore, least not in the UK.

Lies and Democracy and the spin they put on your money

So, read nothing, view nothing, but ask yourself this simple question: When in the history of recent conflict has the West spearheaded by the US poured so much money into one country in order to (now don’t laugh) underwrite its continued democracy?

Billions of dollars in the United States are being diverted from homeland projects into the holey bucket that is Ukraine. In the UK, whose special place in the special relationship ensures that they always follow, millions of pounds have been and are being squandered on Ukraine, depriving UK citizens of much-needed funding for causes closer to home.

How many hospital wings could we build with the money that has been siphoned off? How many hospital staff could we entice to stay by increasing wages? How much money could have been devoted to cancer research and so on? Can the UK really afford this massive taxpayer drain on its already crumbling economy? If we are not careful, we will not have enough money left to pay for those hotel suites that migrants have been promised as they are ferried in VIP-fashion to a liberal fanfare at the Port of Dover. “Ooh, lovely tolerant Britain!”

The UK's Ministry for Lost and Bogus Causes

Questions beget questions. Here are some more you should ask yourself and then your political classes: How many more jabs for coronavirus? How many more immigrants? How much more Woke? How low the standard of living? How high the cost of living? How much more state-funded terrorism? How much more Black Lives Matter? How much more LGBT? How many more knife-ridden streets? How much more anti-social behaviour? How much more Stasi police force? How much more propaganda. How many lies, how many lies, how many lies, lies, lies …?

Don’t forget to register to vote? Why?

Image attributions:

Muck spreading: Image by Pete from Pixabay: https://pixabay.com/photos/manure-muck-spreader-field-6135606/
Tornado: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Vector-clip-art-of-weather-forecast-color-symbol-for-tornado/18973.html
Seesaw: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Kids-on-a-seesaw/75311.html
Plaque: https://www.clipartmax.com/download/m2H7Z5m2N4m2A0i8_brass-plaque-clipart-brass-plaque-clipart/
Pinocchio: https://www.clipartmax.com/middle/m2i8H7Z5d3i8d3A0_cartoon-filii-clipart-pinocchio-and-jiminy-cricket/ <img src=”https://www.clipartmax.com/png/middle/53-537576_cartoon-filii-clipart-pinocchio-and-jiminy-cricket.png” alt=”Cartoon Filii Clipart – Pinocchio And Jiminy Cricket@clipartmax.com“>

Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West

What I like about Kaliningrad

Updated 18 April 2022 | First published: 2 March 2021 ~ Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West

[INTRO} I wrote this piece over a year ago, at a time when western media had nothing better to do than push a hysteria-fomenting narrative about the coronavirus pandemic; now, apparently, it has nothing better to do than to push a hysteria-fomenting narrative about the situation in Ukraine. Bearing this in mind, I dutifully revisited my post to see if anything had changed regarding my opinion of life in Russia and to what extent if any western media had succeeded in convincing me that I would be happier in the UK than if I remained a sanctioned Englishman living in Kaliningrad. I am pleased, but not surprised, to say that other than one or two grammatical improvements, there was nothing to revise! Here’s that post again …

We left the UK for Kaliningrad in winter 2018, but things were far from settled. Over the next twelve months I would have to return to the UK three or four times to renew my visa and to obtain official documents and then return again to pay an extortionate sum of money for a notarised apostille, a little rosette-looking thing verified by a notary that once clipped to the official documents could be used to complete my Leave to Remain in Russia. It was expensive; it was a rigmarole; but obtaining Leave to Remain meant that opening visas would be a thing of the past.

The last time that I was in the UK was December 2019. I returned to Kaliningrad just in time for the New Year celebrations and a month or so afterwards was granted Leave to Remain. We had intended to return to the UK in April for a month, as we had some business to attend to, but before we could do that coronavirus came along and the rest, as they say, is history.

In a previous article I revealed the circumstances which persuaded us to leave the UK and move to Kaliningrad. Now, with December 2019 to the present date being the longest uninterrupted period that I have been in Kaliningrad, it would seem appropriate that I pause to reflect on what it is about Kaliningrad that drew me to it and continues to endear and fascinate.

Our friend, the late Victor Ryabinin, used to refer to Kaliningrad and its surrounding territory as ‘this special place’, and I am with him on that. Whether it is because I see Kaliningrad through his eyes and feel it through his heart, I cannot rightly say. Certainly, his outlook and philosophy on life influenced me and my intuition bears his signature, but I rather imagine that he perceived in me from the earliest time of our friendship something of a kindred spirit, someone who shared his sensibility for the fascination of this ‘special place’.

Nevertheless, my feelings for Kaliningrad are in no way blinkered by a Romanticist streak, which, yes, I do have. If Victor could describe himself as a cheerful pessimist, then I have no qualms in describing myself as a pragmatic Romanticist. But I am no more or less a stranger to Kaliningrad’s flaws and imperfections than I am to my own.

When we arrived in Kaliningrad on a very cold day in winter 2018 to make arrangements for moving here, we were thrown in at the deep end. Early in the morning, still tired from our flight the night before, we had official business that would not wait, which meant trekking off to one of the city’s less salubrious districts. We had given ourselves sufficient time, allowances having been made for the usual protracted queuing, but on reaching our destination discovered that the office we were bound for was working to a different timetable than the one advertised, and consequently we had a two-hour wait before we would be seen! Asking some kind people if they would reserve our place in the queue, we ventured out to a small eatery, a cubicle on the side of the road, for a coffee and a bite to eat. I wrote in my diary:

“Outside, we were confronted yet again by downtown Kaliningrad at its ‘finest’: those ubiquitous concrete tower blocks, stained, crumbling and patched; pavements cracked, ruptured and sunken; kerbstones akimbo; grass verges churned by the wheels of numerous vehicles so that they resembled farmyard gateways; small soviet-era fences rusting and broken; and roads so full of potholes that I began to wonder if it was 1945 again and looked anxiously above me to check for the presence of Lancasters.

When I returned to Kaliningrad from England in December 2019, I wrote:
“I am not sure whether I love Kaliningrad in spite of its imperfections or because of them”.

Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West

They say that it is people that make places what they are, and it is a difficult-to-disprove logic. In the UK, for example, left-leaning commentators, liberal media editors, state-blamers and apologists are continually referring to ‘disadvantaged’ people from ‘deprived areas’, whereas in my experience it is people who deprive areas not areas that deprive people and the only disadvantage is yours, if you should wander into these areas by mistake.

Case in point: Back in the 1990s I had a female acquaintance who lived in a notorious concrete citadel in south London’s Peckham; her reputation I was assured of, but when I visited her one late afternoon in autumn, my knowledge of the Badlands where she lived was incipiently less important to me than my amorous intent. Ahh, the follies of youth!

When it came time to leave, I was ready to phone for a taxi. It was then that she informed me that after dark taxis refused to enter the estate, in fact the entire area! I suggested hailing a black cab in the street and was told that black cabs were as “rare ‘round here as rocking horse s!*t!”.

There was nothing for it: I would have to walk. I cannot say that I was unduly perturbed by this prospect. I was young, well relatively young, and these were the days of my London-wide pub crawls, which would take me to every corner of London no matter which corner it was.

On this particular evening, I had not walked far before I espied my first pub. I was still some distance from it, and though the light from the one or two working streetlamps was dim, the building was easily distinguished as the front was bathed in a low, lurid glow.

As I drew closer, I discovered to my surprise that someone had propped a large mattress on the side of the pub wall and had set light to it. It must have been very damp, the proverbial piss-stained mattress I suppose, because the conflagration was limited to a slow, puthering, smoulder.

Being the Good Samaritan that I am, I popped my head around the pub door and called to the chap behind the bar, “Hey, did you know that there is a burning mattress strapped to the side of your pub?” I need not have felt so daft for saying this, as, barely looking up from his newspaper, the barman grunted in reply, “It’s not unusual around here, mate.”

I had not walked far from The Burning Mattress pub before I found another: The Demolition Inn. All of the windows on the pavement side were smashed, and one pathetic light shone miserably through the broken glass in what otherwise would be a superb and original 1920s’ doorway. I couldn’t just walk past!

The place was empty and quiet, but it had not always been. Evidence had it that not too long ago it had been extremely lively. In one corner there was a pile of broken furniture and that which was still standing had bandaged legs and strung-up backs. The mirror behind the bar was bust, western-film style, and all of the more expensive bottles, the shorts, had been removed from the shelves and the optics, presumably for their own safety.

I never did ask what had happened. It just did not seem the polite thing to do. I just ordered a pint from the man behind the bar, who had a lovely shining black eye and his arm in the nicest of slings, and spent the next thirty minutes on my own in this disadvantaged pub, philosophically ruminating on the nasty way in which bricks and mortar and the wider urban environment deprived people to such an extent that there was nothing they could do but set light to piss-stained mattresses, smash up backstreet pubs, terrify London cabbies and (a popular sport in London’s predominantly ethnic areas) mug the hapless white man.

So, what can we conclude from this? Most large towns and cities have rundown areas, but the difference between the rundown areas in Kaliningrad and those that we know and avoid in London and other UK cities ~ the ‘deprived areas’, as they are called ~ is that you are less likely to be deprived of your possessions, your faculties even your life, whilst walking through the Kaliningrad equivalents of the UK’s infamous sink estates. Although, to be precise, such equivalents do not exist.

Thus, without sounding too fanciful, let us agree that it is people ~ the way they act, talk, behave, dress and generally conduct themselves in public ~ that makes a place what it is. An observation that applies to anywhere ~ be it a 1920s’ terraced street, a 1970s’ concrete estate, a pedestrianised city centre, anywhere ~ from region to region, country to country.

I am not about to make any silly sweeping statements about what Russian people are really like. I could not accomplish this with any degree of validity if someone was to ask me to ‘sum up’ British people (not the least because true British are lumped together with people from foreign lands, who in appearance and behaviour are anything but British, and yet have a stamp in their passport that contradicts good sense) simply because every individual is different no matter where he or she hails from. What I can say hand on heart is that in the 22 years that I have been coming to Kaliningrad, I have had the good fortune to meet, and in some instances become friends with, people of the highest calibre in this small corner of Russia.

It is true that in June 2019 we lost Victor Ryabinin, which was and still is an inconsolable loss, and tragedy would overtake us again in November 2020, when our friend and Victor’s protégé, Stas Konovalov, who helped us through the emotional period of Victor’s death and with whom we shared so many good times, died also. For the second time in less than two years, irreplaceable people had been taken from us. We continue to miss them both.

As it had been for Stas and Victor, history plays an important part in my relationship with Kaliningrad. There is, of course, my own personal history of Kaliningrad, an interaction that stretches back over two decades, and then the energy of the greater past that flows from antiquity into the present. In Kaliningrad, and its region, the past and present parallel each other. There are times and places where the past seems so close that you feel all you need to do is reach out, pull back the curtain and take its hand in yours.

“There is something magnetic in this city; it pulled some of the world’s most significant people into it as it has pulled me. I cannot explain this magic, but I know that this is my city.”
Victor Ryabinin

For some, this confluence of the past has more disturbing connotations. My wife’s mother, who is attuned to the ‘otherness’ of our existence, complains that although she likes Kaliningrad, there is something inescapably ‘heavy’ about it, defined by her as emanating from its dark Teutonic and German past. And I am inclined to agree with her. But I do not share her more gloomy interpretation of the dark side or its negative affect. For me, the cloud has a silver lining: it is profundity and, at its core, cultural sensitivity, interlaced with creative energy. Indeed, creativity and creative people thrived and flourished in Königsberg and that legacy, I am pleased to say, lives on to this day.

Victor Ryabinin painting of Königsberg — **Königsberg ~ the retrospective world of artist Victor Ryabinin**

Whilst the bricks and mortar of Königsberg’s ruins ~ the haunting landscape in which Victor Ryabinin spent his susceptible childhood ~ may have largely been replaced, the spirit of the old city and the spirits of all those who passed through it, whether peacefully or violently during times of war, are ever present. And I earnestly believe that the energy of our two departed friends, Victor and Stas, walk among the living here as countless others do who were brought to this place by fate.

Königsberg in ruins — **Königsberg after allied bombing ~ the childhood landscape of Victor Ryabinin**

Modern Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West — **Kaliningrad 2019**

Victor wrote that “there is something magnetic in this city; it pulled some of the world’s most significant people into it as it has pulled me. I cannot explain this magic, but I know that this is my city.”

I experienced a similar revelation on that cold, snow-bound night, back in the year 2000, when I was standing on the forecourt of Kaliningrad station . It was strong then and is strong now, and knowing it as I do, it no longer surprises me that I am living here today.

Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West ~ Kaliningrad station

I was told by someone, not by Victor himself, that Victor believed that no matter how we felt about the past, we have to live in the present. I never did get chance to ask him whether by that he meant that we had no choice but to live in the present or that we each had a moral imperative to do so, but whichever version you choose, I would qualify both by adding that to a certain extent we can pick and mix, take what we need from the past and present and leave the rest behind.

In my case, the past and present converge, and I am attracted to modern-day Kaliningrad as much as I am fascinated by its East Prussian, German and Soviet history.

When English people call me out, asking pointedly what it is I like about Kaliningrad. I reply, glibly: “What’s not to like?”

Of course, I start with the historical perspective ~ it would not be me if I didn’t ~ referring to the Teutonic Order, ancient Königsberg, Königsberg’s fate during the Second World War and its Soviet reincarnation. I emphasise what a fascinating destination it is for those who are interested in military history and woo antique and vintage dealers with seductive tales of dug-up relics, the incomparable fleamarket and colourful descriptions of alluring pieces hidden away in the city’s antique shops.

Kaliningrad flea market: Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West — **Relics of Königsberg & Soviet Kaliningrad’s past**

Then I go on to say that Kaliningrad is a vibrant and dynamic city, a city of contrasts, of surprises; I talk up its superb bars and restaurants, the variety and price of the beer, the museums and art galleries, the excellent public transport facilities, the attractive coastal resorts that are a mere forty minutes away and cost you two quid by train or a tenner by taxi, the UNESCO World Heritage Curonian Spit, the small historic villages, how friendly the natives are to visitors and, when the wife is not about, the presence of many beautiful women.

Above: Kaliningrad region’s main coastal resorts: Svetlogorsk & Zelenogradsk

*********Editorial note [18 April 2022]********
In the paragraphs to follow, I refer to the onerous restrictions which at the time of writing were impacting international travel in the name of coronavirus. Since then, you will have probably noticed that we have entered a new, dramatically more restricting chapter in the history of international travel, thanks to the West’s anti-Russian hysteria and its sanction-futile attempts to isolate the largest country on Earth. This ill-advised and not very well thought through economic warfare programme has added multiple layers of estranging complexity for global travellers everywhere, not just for potential visitors who want to leave the West to travel to Kaliningrad. From a purely selfish standpoint, these self-defeating impositions have merely made the ‘special place’ that Kaliningrad is to me that little bit more special, its taboo status, difficult-to-get-to location and mythicised risk to westerners making my ‘secret holiday destination’ even more enticing, albeit, ironically, somewhat less secret since in the latest round of Russophobia it has been singled out as a strategic military obstacle to the New World Order aspirations of neoliberal globalism.

You will also find in my later comments evidence supporting Russia’s assertion that the West’s attempts to stigmatise and degrade its international standing and denigrate its culture did not start with Ukraine. The events that we see unfolding today have been a long time in the making and by comparing my honest depiction of life in Kaliningrad with life as you know it in the UK, you should begin to understand why Russia’s traditional cultural ethos inflames the rancour of the West and why it fuels a burning desire in its governments to corrupt, transform and replace that culture with something sub-standard resembling their own. All I can say is Heaven forbid!
*********End of Editorial note [18 April 2022]********

Admittedly, as with everywhere else in the world, access to Kaliningrad and accessibility with regard to its facilities have suffered restrictions through the outbreak of coronavirus, but hopefully it will not be long before the borders are open again. Before coronavirus struck, I was looking forward to excursions into Poland and to Vilnius, Lithuania ~ one of my favourite cities ~ and I want to make that train trip across Russia to Siberia.

As I say, what’s not to like?

Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West

Kaliningrad region Kaliningrad beyond the headlines of the West

Above: Scenes from Kaliningrad and its Baltic Coast region

I realise, of course, that this is not what most English people expect or even want to hear. The UK media has done a good demolition job on Russia over the years, especially Kaliningrad. True, each year that goes by, as things improve here and grow inversely worse in the West, the UK media is finding it increasingly difficult to slag Kaliningrad off. Who can forget its failed propaganda coup in 2018, when it pulled every trick in the book in an attempt to terrify British fans from travelling to Russia for the World Cup?! The plan backfired spectacularly, since the fans that trusted in their own intuition and came to Kaliningrad in spite of media hype were later to report how immensely they enjoyed themselves. What an ‘own goal’ for the West and an embarrassing one at that!

Nevertheless, UK and American liberals continue to bang their conspiratorial heads against the door of this nation state, taking solace in the belief that should they ever run out of tall and sensational stories, there’s always Kaliningrad’s ‘military threat’, to latch onto. Simultaneously, they promise to bestow on Mother Russia ~ as if she is an ‘it’ or an ‘other’ (now, isn’t that just typical!) ~ the rights equivalent of the Emperor’s New Clothes, and all for the knock-down bargain price of Russia becoming a vassal state of the New World Liberal Disorder.

When I am asked about Kaliningrad, I respond to the critics by saying that I can only tell it how I find it, from my point of view, and that the Kaliningrad that I know is not the one readily fictionalised by UK mainstream media. They listen, but I suspect that Brits being Brits they routinely dismiss me as a latter-day Lord Haw Haw, even though the only hawing I do is when reflecting on their entrenched dogmas I allow myself a good chuckle.

However, there is one thing about Kaliningrad that has changed decisively for me: When I first came here, I was a tourist. I came for the good times; I had a good time; and then I went home until the next good time. I was a tourist.

In those days Kaliningrad was my ‘secret destination’. No one I knew in the West had ever heard of it, and that’s just the way I liked it!

Holiday venues are like that, they exist in the distance of your life, somewhere on the periphery. It’s a bit like having a mistress, or so they tell me: you can call round when it pleases you, take your pleasure, vow one day that you will move in together and then return to your life and forget it, until that is of course holiday time comes round again.

The risk is, however, that by returning time and time again ~ to places not mistresses (although …) ~ you develop friendships, and before you know it you have become a part of their life and they a part of yours. Your lives become enmeshed. You learn about each other’s hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, dreams and aspirations. You gain an informed insight into each other’s past and the course your lives have taken, and whilst you are living in each other’s lives fate, which is working behind the scenes, is quietly writing you into its narrative

The point at which you find yourself no longer living on the outside but looking in is indistinct, but it occurs somewhere at that imperceptible juncture where you are not only sharing the ‘ups’ of people’s lives but also the ‘downs’.

This is particularly true when you fall into the raw, barely consolable emotion, grief, in which fused as one by pain and despair, you eventually emerge on the other side less intact than you were but brothers in arms and sorrow. Such experiences are not peculiar to me or to Kaliningrad, or for that matter to any one time and place; they are timeless, universal. But it is these experiences that will ultimately determine which are the stations on your way and which your final destination.

And do you know what is most awesome? It is that you never know where it will be until after you arrive there.

Mick Hart & Olga Hart in Svetlogorsk — **Zelenogradsk in the sun … It’s not always cold in Russia!!**

April Fools’ Day Mandate for NHS Workers

It’s a pandemic! I know, let’s sack thousand of NHS workers!

Published: 26 January 2022 ~ April Fools’ Day Mandate for NHS Workers

“Thousands of protesters flocked to central London to remonstrate against mandatory coronavirus vaccination for NHS staff¹.” So reported the Express on Sunday 23 January 2022. But what have the others got to say?

Crikey, one thinks, the liberal-lefty press, the traditional banner carriers and left-wing collective social conscience for all UKers, who put the NHS and its workers above everything else, will have a field day about this!

Protect the NHS, Save the NHS, Support NHS Workers!!!!!!!!

Can you hear them? No, but did you hear that pin drop? The silence is deafening.

Where are the champions of the NHS now? Presumably, they are too busy stigmatising people who choose not to have a dodgy less-than-satisfactorily efficient and side-effect censored vaccine stuffed into their bodies.

As many as 70,000 NHS staff stand to lose their jobs if they do not cow-toe to the vaccine mandate. That’s Democracy for you folks! 🙄

April Fools’ Day Mandate for NHS Workers

The new rules come into effect on 1^st April, which, unless you haven’t twigged it yet, is April Fools’ Day ~ it fits quite neatly, don’t you think, with the Omicron anagram ‘Moronic’. If justice never prevails ~ and let’s hope it will ~ at least those who we respect least (the WHO-Fauci-Witty-Vallance-&-Co alliance) could always turn their hand at writing Christmas cracker jokes to go with your face masks and lockdowns.

Whilst the usual NHS moral high-grounders are conspicuously invisible, the initiative to strike a blow for freedom of choice and rebuff the medical fascism of compulsory vaccinations was taken by a group of ambulance workers. Their website, NHS100k.com, launched in November 2020, is supported by healthcare workers across the entire NHS spectrum, both vaccinated and unvaccinated but united by the resolution that vaccination by force must be opposed at all costs. Their website states: “We stand united in favour of freedom of choice, bodily autonomy and informed consent.” What’s not to like?!

See: NHS Together

So, I ask again, why isn’t the liberal media that has been bellowing loud and long at us about protecting the NHS throwing its moral weight behind the plight of our NHS staff? Could it be because like everything else they shout about, when push comes to shove, they just don’t care?

Admittedly, mainstream liberal media has put itself in an awkward place. Its authoritarian approach to everything Covid, particularly vaccination, has gone even further than Brexit in flushing out into the open the incontrovertible truth that human rights, civil liberties, equality and the rest, indeed all the institutions that it and its adherents claim to cherish, and on which they presume to hold a moral monopoly, are little more than meaningless soundbites.

Endless cycles of lockdowns, compulsory mask wearing and three hurrahs for a plethora of tests are nothing compared to their Ace card, which is to force millions of people, including thousands of frontline NHS workers, to submit to a quick-fix fast-tracked vaccine that many don’t trust and don’t want.

Ace of Spades card of death for NHS workers in vaccine mandate

Having played their cards so arrogantly, it is difficult, if not impossible, for them to make concessions for NHS staff, whose only desire is that they be granted the right ~ the human right ~ to choose bodily autonomy above biological invasion.

Clearly, the hole that the Liberarsey have dug for themselves is easier to stay in than try to climb out of. In other words, it is easier to stay shtum whilst hundreds of NHS staff lose their jobs than speak out for them. When, or if, it happens, these same self-styled media champions of the NHS will no doubt find a voice again, vilifying and condemning those who followed their intuition and insider knowledge of medical practices, and lost their jobs in the process, as selfish and irresponsible, when only a few weeks previously this once overwhelmingly clamorous, but now remarkably quiescent, media hailed the workers of the NHS, particularly its nursing staff, as brave and selfless frontline defenders in the crusading war against Covid-19.

A dose of the clap

There was a time when the Liberarsey, and their media cronies, at least aspired to the semblance of caring and, if nothing else, would clap for the NHS, but even something as simple as clapping is not that easy to do when double-standards and sheer hypocrisy have your hands tied firmly behind your back.

Listen?

No, that is not clapping you hear; it is just the sound of the blinds and shutters rattling against their collective conscience.

But tell me, are you really surprised that those NHS potato makers from the make-believe mainstream media have gone and dropped their political hotty into the turncoat shite? Of course, not … You’d have to be half-baked to swallow the nonsense they try to feed you.

Think! From the same people who brought you the EU, multiculturalism, open borders, candle-lit-vigils and boats across the Channel, comes the truth about Covid-19 …

“Protect the NHS!” they shouted. But then the gaunt, lean figure of Democracy, shuffling out of the crowd of clones, stepped up to take his appointed place at the podium … and not so much as a whisper could be heard.

Here’s a couple of videos that should be heard and seen. Whether you choose to agree with their content is entirely your choice. But choice you should have!

<<See: Dr Scott Jensen ‘You are being played’>>

Reference
1. https://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/1554262/London-protest-UK-vaccination-unvaccinated-unjabbed-April-1-NHS-healthcare-workers-VN

Image attributes
Hand clapping: http://cliparts.co/clipart/2497328
Sack: file:///C:/Users/mickh/Downloads/misc-pig-bait.svg
Pratt’s Sign: https://www.freeimg.net/photo/1083781/pratts-sign-oil-petrol
Ace of Spades: https://www.freeimg.net/photo/171797/spades-ace-card-playing

The Liberal Solution to Anti-vaxxers

A response to ‘What to do about the Anti-vaxxers ~ there are three options’

Published: 20 December 2021 ~ The Liberal solution to Anti-vaxxers

The two things ~ two of many ~ that liberals are not very good at, but believe they are, is twisting their square-pegged ideology into the round holes of democracy and, when it suits them, which is most of the time, lathering a thick and sickly synthetic icing of Holier Than Thou on the cake that they want to have and eat.

Hence, the two-faced two faces of liberalism, in all its disingenuous and dissimulating tawdriness, emerges yet again in two media articles, one from The Independent (The Independent My Arse! Who said that?) and the other from The Guardian (The Guardian of what?), both articles seemingly wrestling with the question, how can people who are reluctant to have a ‘Friday afternoon vaccine’ pumped into their bodies be compelled to do so?

Unless you understand the liberal way, you might ask yourself the question, how could anyone of this political persuasion pursue such gross illiberalism and still try to pass themselves off as the champions of equality, human rights and civil liberties? It’s called ulterior motive.

The Liberal Solution to Anti-vaxxers

Let us take a gander at that first article, the one from The Independent¹, and deal with the cynical iced-bun version in a later post.

Papers Please!!
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What I personally enjoyed about the first article was its compromising headline. It immediately set the tone of the piece, condescending and arrogant, and left me in no doubt that what I was about to read would be a consummate example of illiberal neoliberalism.

Here is that headline:
‘What to do about the Anti-vaxxers ~ there are three options’¹.

There is nothing new about condescension and arrogance from illiberal-liberal sources, it is their stock-in-trade, their signature, but what I did find interesting in the mindset of this piece and the ideological perspective from which it is written was the schematic way in which a solution to the anti-vaxxer problem had been approached, mapped out and presented.

This article has all the makings of a future historical document, something remarkably similar to those which, back in 1940s’ Germany, would have been served up in an emblem-impressed file and handed around to those who sat in judgement in the offices of Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse 8.

Before outlining and analysing the various solutions to the anti-vaxxer problem, the document pedals generalisations and pushes assumptions that would make even the most dissembling fact checker blush:

These are:

1. “The threat to society at large from Omicron comes not from the virus itself but from pressures on the NHS from rapidly growing numbers of serious infections among the unvaccinated.”

Response: Read this: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/article/evidence-mounts-that-people-with-breakthrough-infections-can-spread-delta-easily

Do your own research, compile your own statistics: Ask yourself the question, how many people do you know who are double-jabbed and boostered who have still gone on to contract the virus? We know of several to date. We also know several unvaccinated people who have had coronavirus but had a mild version and treated themselves at home.

2. “The pressures are felt by NHS staff but also those whose treatment for other diseases is disrupted or postponed.”

Response: The NHS is under pressure, there is no doubt about that, but a substantial proportion of that pressure comes from hoards of terrified people running to doctors and hospitals in response to the terror tactics used by the UK media. Some have been wise to present with their symptoms; others have merely created longer queues and consumed valuable GP time, suffering from nothing more than abject panic. The majority of Brits who are vaccinated are putting further pressure on the NHS by running back to it in droves for more shots as instructed by their government, boosters which might or might not protect them ~ the degree to which they do, if they do, is unsubstantiated ~ from the unfortunate, but who can say not apt, anagrammatic Covid variant Moronic. How can the NHS not be under pressure, ie “GPs will be told to cancel appointments to dedicate resources to offering vaccines to every UK adult by the end of December².”

It is painfully true that treatment for other diseases is being disrupted or postponed, which is inexcusable but quite understandable. It is a deplorable situation which came about when the National Health Service ceased to be the National Health Service and became instead the Covid Health Service. Note the following: “Britain’s National Health Service was stretched to the limit but never overwhelmed.” The NHS is stretched to the limit because it cannot cope on a day-to-day basis even without the Covid situation, the obvious reason being that the UK is over-populated, but, hey ho, any excuse, and let’s face it Covid is the best one yet. Even better now that the problems of the NHS can be dumped on the doorsteps of the evil unvaccinated.

How does this alleged political preoccupation with the wellbeing of the NHS and healthcare workers stack up against threats such as this: ‘60,000 care workers face sack after being told to get vaccine jab or lose job’³

3. “The idea that unvaccinated people should be treated differently and discriminated against as a conscious policy runs into several objections. The first is widely heard but weak: that people have a basic right to exercise a choice not to be jabbed. But if that exercise of choice harms others, it is not a valid choice. We do not allow motorists to choose to drive the wrong way down a motorway or allow people to choose to hold noisy, all-night, parties whenever they wish.”

Response in two parts: (a) Of course people have as much right not to be jabbed as Big Pharma, governments and policy makers pushing vaccine mandates assume that they have the right to hide behind a get-out-clause, a disclaimer, that protects them from all and any responsibility in the event of adverse side-effects including, but not exclusive to, fatalities. If the vaccine is perfectly safe, then the above organisations and our democratically elected representatives, should put up or shut up! ‘Papers Please!’ ‘Compensation Please!’ ‘Or even on trial for murder please!’ But, hey wait a minute, what about the scientific evidence that categorically states that the vaccine is as safe as houses (what was that crash? Negative equity?) What about the deplatforming, social media censorship, conflicting statements from once respected medical professionals and scientists. Sorry, I forgot, they all turned into conspiracy theorists. It happened overnight.

(b) “We do not allow motorists to choose to drive the wrong way down a motorway because they know that it would be a silly and rather dangerous thing to do.” Motorists do not need politicians to instruct them in this fact. By the same logic, they do not need politicians to tell them to drive over Vaccine Cliff.

“[We do not] allow people to choose to hold noisy, all-night, parties whenever they wish.” I can assure you that you do (dring, dring: “Is that the police? There’s a lot of noise coming from my neighbour’s house …”. “Sorry, Sir, that’s nothing to do with us.”) and, in certain cases it would seem, hold governmental parties whilst instructing the entire population of the UK that it must refrain from doing so ~ or else!

4. “Elected ethnic minority figures, such as the Mayor of London, have given strong, clear leadership on the need for vaccination.”

Response: He is fulfilling the political function that an ‘elected ethnic minority figure’ is paid to do. That is why he has been installed, precisely for this purpose. Sadly, but evidently, a lot of people just don’t trust the man.

5. “This is a classic case of the distinction between “freedoms from” and “freedoms to”. It is objectionable that the freedom of a majority from restrictions on their daily lives might be removed by the freedom of a minority to refuse vaccination.”

Response: This is a perfect example of twisting square liberal pegs into the round holes of logic, to which I referred earlier. It’s similar to ‘you must not discriminate against minorities’ and then arguing for ‘positive discrimination for minorities’ and being banned from social media for ‘inciting racial hatred’ when what you have really been banned for is posting something that challenges liberal fraudulence. In other words, it is playing with words to protect a flawed ideology and is a facile attempt to disguise the U-turn taken.

The distinction between ‘freedoms from’ and ‘freedoms to’ is a semantic nicety acceptable perhaps at the vicar’s tea party (keep your distance, please!) over a game of Scrabble, but when used in a debate on incarceration by Covid it simply becomes a ploy to entice the vaccinated into believing that their freedoms are inextricably linked to the opposing views of anti-vaxxers, when lockdowns, as well as other restrictions, are indiscriminately executed and at the proverbial drop of a hat. Case in point, it was announced today [18/12/2021] that a two-week ‘circuit-breaking’ lockdown could be brought into force before Christmas across the UK. This restriction on daily life will no doubt go ahead, and when it does it will affect everyone, despite the fact that the majority of UKers are labelled as fully vaccinated. This restriction, as with enforced mask wearing, has no bearing whatsoever on who is vaccinated and who is not. It is a State embargo on freedom, for which there is no trade-off.

In the real world, however, in real democracies, where ‘freedom’ is supposedly sacrosanct, you do not go around forcing people to take potentially harmful biological substances which, for the sake of expediency, or so it was originally reported, could not be effectively tested either for safety or for efficacy by normal standard protocols. If this is ‘fake news’, then lay the blame on mainstream media. As for the negative use of ‘minority’, ie “the freedom of a minority to refuse vaccination”, whatever happened to the liberal obsession with cossetting and protecting minorities?

4. “Furthermore, the experience of France and other European countries is that, faced with serious barriers, large numbers of unvaccinated people drop their objections to vaccination very quickly. France was regarded as implacably anti-vax; but quite suddenly that has changed.”

Response: Wooh! Look at the arrogance and control-freakiness in that statement! ‘Faced with serious barriers’ = force, brownshirt bully-boy tactics, open confrontation. France is still ‘implacably anti-vax’. Hey, Mr Neoliberal have you forgotten to pay your TV licence?

Jack Boot was one of my favourite dancers; he really set the tone. And the tone having been struck in this ‘oh so very brimming over with the milk of human liberalism’ piece, we now come to the real nitty-gritty. The three proposals on what to do with anti-vaxxers.

The Liberal Solution to Anti-vaxxers

All rise. Court in Session. His Lord Justice Liberal-Lefty Presiding!

The whole thing had become so devilishly and blood-curdling juicy by the time I had read this far that I was compelled to put away the other fiction that I had been reading, penned by the Marquis de Sade, to focus solely upon what demoniacal torture the Chief Inquisitor had up his sleeve for those sub-human anti-vaxxers (clap of thunder off-stage and devilish laughter!!!).

And, on the conveyor belt tonight!

1. Compulsion through employment conditions [meaning get vaccinated with a potentially harmful substance or lose your job: very liberal, I must say!]

2. Changes to rights of treatment under the NHS [no treatment unless you are a prick ~ no doubt with a refund on NI contributions; well, I liberal never!]

3. A more comprehensive vaccine passport system [not allowed to go anywhere ‘Papers Please! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!].

The architect of the solutions document takes a pause at this point whilst he mulls over the consequences of brownshirt tactics but, seeing a dangerous precedent in this, resorts instead to name calling. “It is, of course, impractical and unacceptable to have ‘refuseniks’ (Ha! Ha! is this a play on ‘Beatniks’? Who remembers those? And what does that make the vaccinated? By default, Accepttwits?) dragged away, held down and forcefully injected. Oh shucks, come on, why not? Oh yes, I just remembered, we are supposed to be living in a democracy, aren’t we? And then, of course, there is that old but sensible adage: ‘Those who live by the sword die by the sword’ and ‘violence begets violence’ and lots of other unpleasant ‘don’t go there stuff’ to do with vendettas, revenge and repercussions. That’s a point? Are security details and personal bodyguards subject to the ‘condition of employment’ policy’?

The writer does note with unbridled satisfaction that NHS and care staff face forced vaccination as a ‘condition of their employment’. In other words ‘Get vaccinated or get the boot!’ He acknowledges that some ‘quality staff’ may not comply and will presumably ‘have to be let go’, but considers this eventuality to be perfectly acceptable collateral damage, when only a moment ago he was whacking anti-vaxxers around the head with the be-it-on-your-conscience stick, asserting in no uncertain terms that the NHS must be protected and that NHS staff face impossible stress and pressure. Er, doh, am I missing something here?

Surely, any examples that need to be made for the ‘condition of employment’ clause could be more effectively applied by rooting out those MPs who are refusing to take the jab or, better still, some of those who have indiscriminately had it and are pressuring others to ‘make the same mistake’. I am sure that the general public would welcome this with open arms, whereas they may not understand, with or without their jabs, how culling medical staff at a time when they are desperately needed solves anything, apart perhaps from justifying the daily death rate figures and blaming it all on anti-vaxxers.

Do you know, there is so much that is fundamentally wrong about this article that it makes you want to jump in the air and rejoice that the Liberal Party is where it should be, at the bottom of the bin just below the potato peelings. Let’s hope that North Shropshire is a blip on the protest vote graph: Heaven help this poor country if these twits are ever given the key to number 10!

Sorry for that emotional outburst. I hope I’m not turning liberal.

Moving on to point number two, ‘Changes to rights of NHS treatments’. This gets the writer into a ‘right old two and eight’. He starts badly with an inadmissible concept, waffles on in an attempt to prove that he really is a nice liberal and descends into nowhere land. So, no need to concern ourselves with that.

So, it’s on to point number 3, the final solution.

And, tonight’s star prize is … Yes, you’ve guessed it ~more extreme vaccine passports (demoniacal chuckle!!!)

Papers Please!!
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The gist is that the nice liberal man who wrote this compassionate article is eager to see the ‘minimal’ model of vaccine passports adopted in England recast in the image of the more ‘extreme version’, which is the one that is causing riots and mayhem in totalitarian Austria. Chilling stuff comes next with his prophesising comment that “If the Omicron wave gets out of control the UK will move inexorably in [the] Austrian direction.” Place your bets, place your bets (Its, Others and What Have Yous), will the Omicron wave get out of control in the UK …? That’s as rhetorical as do we need a new script writer for the popular Covid-19 soap opera Coronavirus Streets?

“Not much happening on Coronavirus Streets tonight, love. Just a lot of people ignoring the lockdown laws, trashing the streets of the UK and those liberal-fascists running around in leather coats and trilbies, saying ‘Papers Please!!”

The article, ‘What to do about the Anti-vaxxers ~ there are three options’, fizzles, futts and farts out on the smug prediction that a more rigorous vaccination passport system (which, incidentally the UK government vowed we would never have ~ lucky then that Omicron came along, and just before Christmas at that), will, by effectively confining anti-vaxxers to their homes except for essential shopping ~ bog rolls, and the like ~ enable the ‘socially responsible’ (the ones that stand to attention on the command of ‘Papers Please!’ Woof, Woof) to enjoy all the freedoms that our wonderful democracy can offer, such as going to work, for example, presumably to earn enough money to pay the benefits of the 10 million minority or more squirrelled away in their homes.

The writer concludes his final solution project with the ultimate act of liberal hypocrisy by playing word games with what freedom is and freedom means, to wit (he is, isn’t he!) that by some strange twisting of square pegs into round holes, the systematic curtailing of freedoms for the obdurate few will eventually lead to freedom for all. Having delivered his ‘must be cruel to be kind’ curtain call, he then gazes steadfastly into his crystal balls and, like a new mutation called Prophet, let’s us in on the secret that we will all be where we want to be, or is that all be where they want us to be, come 2022.

Master plans such as this are about as funny as the prospect of the Liberals coming to power. Thankfully, from the way the tarot cards have been played in ‘What to do about the anti-vaxxers … ‘ , I think we can safely say that such an unmitigated catastrophe is unlikely to happen soon and, may we add, hopefully never will.

All you need to be aware of is that they are now saying openly what they have been thinking for a long time. It is your choice whether or not to go on swallowing the sugar-coated pill ~ ‘Freedom’, ‘Freedom of Speech’, ‘Democracy’, ‘Civil Liberties’, ‘Equality’ and so on ~ or reject it as placebo on the evidence of the totalitarian policies that they are implementing across Europe and also, unbelievably, in the UK. At least you have a choice with the sugar-coated pill, which is more than can be said for the Covid-19 vaccine. 😉

Papers Please!!

Please see my following post, scheduled after a beer or two, on the ‘sickly iced bun’ from The Guardian.

Comment:

As the vaccinated are still capable of catching and spreading the virus after the miracle ‘fast-track vaccine’, why not lock them down instead? What’s the point of them vaccinating hundreds of times, mixing with each other and then spreading new strains? By locking down the majority, more NHS workers can safely lose their jobs and with less people to care for we can protect the NHS, if only from bullshit. (Don’t forget to stop the boats arriving first!) Much better to have the majority under lock and key and the minority wandering around. They can be given Unvaccinated Passports and be made to go to work to pay for the keep of the obedient vaccinated. Just give the vaccinated congratulatory Obedience Certificates and let them lounge at home. Good dog! ~ Mr I.M. Crufts

Customer: That’s a small piece of freedom. How much is it?
Purveyor of lies: 33 vaccinations and 16 boosters, please.
Customer: When will Complete Freedom be available.
Purveyor of lies: Soon, soon. In the meantime would you like another piece of Freedom. I hear it’s going up tomorrow by another 7 boosters!

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Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

Woke Watch PC UK [Case 1]

Published: 6 April 2021

Preamble

This series of posts is devoted to identifying, tracking and reporting on instances of politically correct oppression in the UK, which have become so prevalent and stultifying in recent years that they have morphed into an erosive sub-culture, ironically characterised by self-righteous victimhood and a postured drive for equality. This is the culture of ‘Woke’.

Stymieing free speech and closing down discussion, liberal elements exploit the false altruism implanted in this credo for the prosecution and inverted moral enforcement of a neo-Marxist creed.

Assisted not a little by an ideological media sympathetic to their agenda, the hyper-reaction and sheer volume of publicity devoted to issues of race, gender and other liberal hobby horses has discredited the perpetrators and exposed their agenda. It has also caught them in a trap of their own making, the term ‘Woke’ ~ their term ~ presented originally as a victim’s cry for social and racial justice now widely used to identify over-zealous practitioners and self-proclaimed arbitrators of ‘correct thought’ as defined by neoliberal PC elites.

There is a limit to which even the most tolerant people of the most tolerant country (reference Sewell report) can remain tolerant to daily intolerance and at last legacy Britons appear to have reached that point:

Stay aWoke to the Wokes folks!

If, in a wild and distorted dream or a state of unpardonable and gross inebriation you have even vaguely considered that the ‘liberal way’ could be progressively good for your country ~ or, for that matter, remotely good ~ let these posts serve as a moral reminder: Be careful what you wish for!

In my introductory post to this series, Woke Watch PC UK, I referred briefly to that recent sorry state of affairs at Pimlico Academy London, where children, jumping on the protest bandwagon, were allowed and encouraged to lambast their headteacher and dictate school policy.

The Pimlico Academy circus and the liberal media’s reaction to the Sewell report on racial disparity are perfect examples of the fostered permeation of a woke cult within the UK and the extent to which this virus is cultivated and used as a mind-altering, psychological weapon in our schools. From the government’s reluctance (some have referred to it as ‘moral cowardice’) to institute robust measures to combat the virulence, hope for an effective vaccine grows less and less credible as each day passes. Unchallenged, systemic wokeness is a source of global embarrassment to the UK in the disproportionate media and political space it occupies to the detriment of real issues, such as unsafe streets and spiralling crime, but is at the very least redeemable in its entertainment value.

My attention was first drawn to this farcical piece of nonsense, re Pimlico Academy, when I stumbled upon a report in that most august of intellectual online dispensaries, the Mirror.

Headlined, “Pimlico Academy: Angry pupils stage mass walk-out at school’s ‘racist’ uniform policy”, with the standfirst, “Students and staff are furious over a strict new uniform policy at Pimlico Academy in Westminster, central London, and changes to the secondary school’s history curriculum”, the article immediately set the sirens wailing: ‘Woke! Woke! Woke!’.

From the safety of my anti-PC bunker, not having been enriched for some time now, I read on, hardly able to contain my amusement. According to the report, some angry children were having a tantrum in the school playground (for those of you who are not from the UK, an ‘academy’ is a posh-sounding name for a school; a tantrum is a ‘peaceful demonstration’). ‘We want change’, they shouted. I could hear an echo bouncing back at them from somewhere in Britain’s glorious past, “Don’t we all!” it was saying.

The change that they wanted was not for the drinks machine. They were ~ shall we use a ‘peaceful demonstration’ word? ~ ‘outraged’.

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

It may defy belief if you come from a non-PC-crazed background, but in the wonky land of Woke, anybody and anything can be denounced as racist at any time, and somebody with a lot more time on their hands than most of us, but not a great deal of intelligence, had denounced Pimlico’s school uniform as racist. The school uniform was wacist (that’s a cross between woke and racist) because it discriminated against hijabs and hairstyles. The school pupils were also incensed that the school curriculum was not paying enough attention to the antics of Black Lives Matter and were demanding that more time be devoted to Black History Month, like, er, Black History Two Months or preferably 13 months of the year. Durrgh…

The Mirror published extracts from the children’s online post, which, incorporating such terms as ‘protect marginalised races [and] religions’, ‘discriminating against’ and ‘challenging identity’, shows that if they learn nothing else in today’s progressive liberal schools, children are at least well versed in the parrot language of Woke.

Some went on to excel themselves by taking up the cudgel for the gender disadvantaged. And you have to hand it to them, they had really done their homework on the PC prose of choice:

“We believe the idea of gendered uniform for all students is a ridiculous, backwards ideal. This ostracises non-binary and gender non-conforming students, or those who are struggling with their gender identity.”

I really, really do wish that I had been armed with this load of old cod’s wallop when I was at school. In those days, if you did not present in the full and prescribed uniform by the time you had chanted ‘we want change’, you could be guaranteed to have got it, initiated by a swift, stout kick up the arse. The change being a bruise where you did not have one before.

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

Whilst some of Pimlico’s school children were writing online statements, others, true to form, were defacing the school walls with graffiti. Some future university student daubed:

“Headmaster Smith should get the sack.”

And why on earth shouldn’t he, with a name like that!

The Mirror goes on to report that, “the Guardian reported that the school was facing mass staff resignations, a student protest and a vote of no confidence in its headteacher.”

It almost sounds like ‘Hooray’?

Mr Smith is a white headmaster and therefore it goes without saying that he should either resign or apologise, or preferably both! ~ be sent to Devil’s Island, somewhere in the Caribbean or Lambeth, and never again be permitted to hold office.

Apparently, the academy’s staff is in such a PC tizz about it all that many of the poor darlings are thinking of quitting their job.

Helpful school caretaker: “Allow me, I’ll open the door for you!”

And it is reported that the entire geography department handed in their notice, presumably because they failed to identify that the country where they live and work is Britain. Mind you, it is not that easy to tell these days, is it, not even for a geography teacher?

Now, I am not sure whether you will appreciate the woke irony inherent in this next quote from the Mirror, but take your time (clue, think of BLM and statues and political allegiances).

“Former Pimlico Academy pupil Liza Begum, Labour’s candidate for the upcoming Churchill ward councillor by-election, visited the protest.”

Well, she would, wouldn’t she!

According to the Mirror, she was proud of the students, adding, ‘it [the protest] was a peaceful event’.

As all such demonstrations, especially BLM demonstrations, are ~ children …

One mother complained that the pupils are not listened to and feel ‘frustrated and disempowered’ (Congratulations, now you know what most teachers feel every day of their lives.) And wanted to know what this would do for them [the kids] when they left school? The answer being, a great deal of good, I suppose, because in the real world, the world outside of school, getting your own way by staging a tantrum, even if the liberal media patronises it as ‘peaceful’, is not something that Bet Fred is likely to give you very good odds on.

Now, I have intentionally left the best for last, which is that after ticking all the essentials on the woke checklist, as ticked by the children at Pimlico Academy, having been primed to do so by their liberal masters …

Racism
Discrimination
Gender issues
Identity
Challenged self-esteem
White man headmaster

… the ultimate demand from the Pimlico children was that the school remove the Union Jack. And, yes, you have got it in one, of course the school capitulated.

Think about it. An institution whose purpose it is not only to educate the young in the academic sense but is also charged with the responsibility of inculcating them with an appreciation of the values and morals of society to help them to integrate into that society, takes down the nation’s flag, having been ordered to do so by a gaggle of school children not yet worldly wise enough to know the fundamental difference between their arses and their elbows. Still, I suppose it was an improvement on last September, when Britain’s future hauled the flag down and burnt it. To quote Del Amitri:

“And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before … “

The least you would expect is that the entire history department of Pimlico Academy would hand in their resignation, hop into the nearest TARDIS, shoot off back in time and warn Great Britain of what will become of it in the 21^st century unless it takes a firmer grip. What a mess!

The ethnic composition of the child protestors which led to the peremptory and pitiful removal of the nation’s flag is not immediately apparent. A closer look at the photos and videos that covered the playground huff would be interesting from a sociological viewpoint if nothing else, as it would help to ascertain the ratio of children indoctrinated by liberal left mantras in relation to those exploiting them to further an agenda.

Incidentally, did you ever see that wonderful old black and white (cough) film Passport to Pimlico? It was all very different then, wasn’t it, although the title of that film could well have been a presentiment. All the same, should a remake be made today, the film would have to retain its original title since Pimlico is land-locked, so something along the lines of Small Boat to Pimlico would hardly be believable ~ but then again, what is?

Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!

At the end of a wrong day, whether your verdict is woke tsunami or merely a storm in a piss pot, that the Pimlico spat was set against the backdrop of the frenzied reception to the Sewell report on racial disparity speaks volumes about the wider malaise in the land of the Woke and Wonderless.

This ‘landmark adjudication’, the Sewell report, is, of course, covered extensively by the liberal press. The Guardian, for example, asks in one of their earlier articles, before the tone becomes predictably rabid, ‘Did the government’s response to the Black Lives Matter protests measure up? A panel of writers responds’. And the answer, from the liberal perspective is, as we know, of course it didn’t. Whilst some people could be forgiven for equating inadequate response with lack of robust policing, I am not saying anything about this article. Find it, read the names of the contributors, see their panels and photographs, read what they have to say and judge for yourselves.

I cannot quite make up my mind, from a purely woke position, whether the liberal faction so seemingly incensed by the Sewell report’s conclusion that the UK is one of the most racially tolerant countries in the world, would have been infinitely more disappointed had the report returned what they presumed it must do following what they conceived to be an intimidation victory by the BLM riots, namely that the UK is racist to its core and that penance by those responsible can never be paid in full, as there is not enough guilt in Woke land for reparation to replace agenda.

Such Woke expressions of virtue-signalled anger are surely just for the record ~ the broken record. Without doubt, the Sewell report has handed to those who have nothing better to do than to delude themselves into believing that making banners and running amok in the streets will change anything, a golden opportunity: summer is on the way, time to get those hoodies on and crank up the ‘peaceful protesting’! And if it all gets sordid and nasty, then not only is there the old excuse to fall back on, that the police response was ‘neither appropriate nor proportionate’ (from the rehearsed script of Mr Mayor Khan) there is the Sewell report as well. “Ooooh, it made me so angry! I just had to make a banner and go and deface a statue. Er, how do you spell ‘discriminate’?”

Woke me up when it’s all over, yawn …

Here are some later headlines from the balanced liberal press on the Sewell report:

The Sewell report on racial disparity is an attempt to erase progress and sow division [Guardian]

Comment: This assumes that the path to progress must be defined as a never-ending cycle of recrimination, apology and appeasement

The poisonously patronising Sewell report is historically illiterate [Guardian]

Comment: Tantrum time

Race report: Was controversy part of the plan? [BBC]

Comment: You should know. It’s what you do best … but not so well as you did, or everyone would still be paying their license fee

Let’s hope that these headlines were not run after the watershed viewing time for children ~ there’s bound to be tears before bedtime ..

S😉😉EE Woke Watch PC UK!

Reclaiming Freedom in the UK, with Laurence Fox (Uncommon Knowledge interview with Peter Robinson)

Woke Watch PC UK!

Introduction

Published: 2 April 2021

Liberals are upset. The word ‘woke’, originally enlisted into the English language as a weapon to further their ideological aims and bulwark their arsenal of victimhood, has fallen into enemy hands. It seems that ‘white privileged males’, ‘populists’ and even a man who gets paid to be rabid on television, have wrested the weapon from the hand of the mugger. They, along with millions of legacy Britons like them, are turning it to their own advantage in an existential struggle to preserve country, culture, heritage, home and history.

In this series of posts, I will update you from time to time on the wokey pokery that, having been brought to the surface and accelerated by such a monumental political event as Brexit, threatens to undermine, destroy and eclipse what, less than a century ago, was one of the greatest nations on Earth but which now, regrettably, as a result of social engineering and state-sponsored sell out, is little more than Pandora’s Box in a carnival hall of mirrors.

The Strange Woke Case of the White Privileged Male

The liberal left like nothing better than to label anyone who does not obsequiously and unquestionably conform to what Piers Morgan has described as their ‘PC-crazed world view’. Case in point:

For the first time in months coronavirus slips from its number one place in the British media slot and is immediately replaced by lamentable laments about race. It wasn’t April Fools Day when I read about the liberal media’s reaction to the Sewell report on racial disparity and caught sight of the shockless, but none the less discouraging, headline, “Pimlico Academy: Angry pupils stage mass walk-out at school’s ‘racist’ uniform policy”, but it ought to have been, at least then it might have all made sense … a little sense … some sense … no?

On the same day, 31^st March, it was refreshing to see something infinitely less predictable than a load of liberals all crying collectively into the same obsessive snotrag. It was the actor, political activist and leader of the Reclaim Party, Laurence Fox, the High Priest of Anti-Woke, whizzing across London in a traditional, red, open-topped double-decker bus, launching, in an applaudably British way, his London mayoral election campaign against that really nice Asian man, the Woke’s mayor of choice, Mr Sadiq Khan BLM, EU, AGENDA.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Mr Fox, probably best known for his co-starring role in the TV detective series Lewis, entered the political arena after he fell foul of anti-freedom of speech liberals and the predominantly liberal-virulent Twitterati mob for responding to a mixed-race university lecturer during the BBC’s Question Time who accused him of being ‘a white privileged male’. Such an accusation, he said, was racism.

Following the broadcast, the actors’ union, Equity, which is not at all institutionally Woke, called on other actors to denounce him. As a ‘white privileged male’, he had obviously overstretched himself. Racism, as we know, is a one-way street ~ or so they would have us believe. My only regret is that I missed the headline: ‘White Privileged Male Blacklisted’.

I am sure you will agree that there is absolutely no excuse for being a ‘white privileged male’. If you have the misfortune of being one, let it be a lesson to you. You should have chosen the race of your parents more carefully and ensured that both were on the dole. You should also sue them for not consulting you on your gender preferences before they had the temerity to consider giving birth to you.

Woke Watch PC UK!

Piers Morgan, formerly of Good Morning Britain (yes, that’s him, nice, quiet man, never got a bad word to say about anybody), himself since hounded by the same crazed hypocrites as Laurence Fox, Tweeted on Twatter:

“Laurence Fox hounded off Twitter for daring to challenge the virtue-signalling mob. The repulsive abuse & threats these shameless ‘liberal’ (*illiberal) hypocrites spew out on here to anyone who refuses to sign up to their PC-crazed world view is disgraceful ~ [Feb 24, 2020]”

Piers Morgan ‘lost’ his job at Good Morning Britain “because I chose not to apologise for disbelieving Meghan Markle’s claims in her interview with Oprah Winfrey. I thus became the latest ‘victim’ of the cancel culture that is permeating our country, every minute, of every hour, of everyday. Though of course, I consider myself to be neither a victim, nor actually cancelled.” [https://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/tv/piers-morgan-addresses-lost-job-20113944 [accessed 31 March 2021] ]

News on the grapevine has it that Mr Morgan, true to his beliefs, has not been ‘cancelled’. He is about to be reinstated (so he tells us), which is something that Laurence Fox has yet to experience.

Woke Up UK!

😉Next post: Pimlico Academy ‘protest’ and the Sewell report ~ one an exercise in wokeness, the other an exercise in futility

Further reading:
Land of Wokes & Snowflakes
25 Reasonable Excuses for Leaving the UK
Katie Hopkins Life After Twitter
Harry & Meghan: The Sad Case of Deja Vu

Harry & Meghan the sad case of déjà vu

How to make history repeat itself to your advantage …

Published: 16 March 2021 ~ Harry & Meghan the sad case of déjà vu

Have you ever experienced déjà vu ~ you know, when you instinctively feel that you have lived through something before; that you are experiencing something that you have already experienced?

When the news first broke that Prince Harry was to marry Meghan Markle I, like so many other people, thought oh dear, it can only end in tears. Doubtlessly, the UK media and presumably others were of a different opinion, that it could only end in adverse publicity for the Royals, some extra pocket money and lotsa dough for the media.

From the media’s viewpoint not only would the inevitable break with the Royal Family make good copy, but it would also enable them ~ at least the dominant liberal faction of the press ~ to indulge themselves in their favourite preoccupation, which, when they are not sniping at Russia, is Royal Family bashing.

Back in the days of Tony Blair, days which most old socialists can barely bring themselves to talk about ~ you don’t broadcast it when you’ve been had, do you? ~ their more limp-wristed colleagues in the liberal camp longed for the end of the monarchy, envisaging instead a new Federal era with Tony Blair as president. Ironically, most of those who had this nickel-plated dream are tarnished by the memory, which is why so many liberals hate our Tony’s guts.

Harry & Meghan the sad case of déjà vu

I got into conversation about my déjà vu feeling with my old drinking partner Reggie Vallance from Shadwell in east London, known to his friends as ‘Call Me Cynical’, who has an opinion about everything.

The conversation began with my remark about déjà vu in the context of the no-longer Royals, Harry and Meghan.

“Well,” says Call Me Cynical, “it stands to reason dunnit. Think Princess Di and old Ken Doddy…”

“Er, no,” I interrupted, “You’re confusing Dodi Fayed with Ken Dodd the English comedian.”

“Strewth, you’re right,” said Call Me Cynical, “One had way too much hair and teeth and was British and the other had way too much money, a good suntan and there weren’t nothin’ English about him at all. OK, I stand corrected. Now, where was I? Right, think of his nationality, think of his colour, think of the alleged reaction of the Royal Family, think of how this ‘acquaintance’” ~ he said this last word slowly and with a certain emphasis ~ “compromised the Royals and then think of the reaction of the press? Got it? Well, there you are my son: no wonder when you think ‘arry and Mugup …”

“Meghan,” I corrected him.

“Who” he floundered, “Meghan mugged Harry?”

We seemed to have jumped a little here and were swinging about aimlessly.

“Listen Tarzan,” I retorted, Cynical was a large lad, “what’s this got to do with …”

“Turn those bloody drums off! Sorry,” Cynical resumed, “I shouldn’t have bought my boy those, the neighbours are terrified! Do you read Shakeshaft?”

It took me a moment. “You mean Shakespeare?”

“Stop throwing that thing about! Sorry,” Cynical apologised again, “I brought the lad a spear for Christmas, and he will keep chuckin’ it abart. I told him, it’s a wall-angar!”

I wondered if his ‘lad’ understood him.

“The reason that I asked whether you read Shakespier is that if you do you would get to understand why you are suffering from a bout of the déjà vus.”

Now, Cynical was beginning to sound like my doctor.

“There’s a lot of Machiavellian stuff in Shakespier …” he continued.

At least he had got the Machiavellian right.

“… and there’s a lot of Machiavellian stuff goin’ down ‘ere with ‘arrold and Megoff. Call me cynical, but Harry ain’t your proper Royal, is he? I mean look at him. His old mum, gord bless her, she weren’t no proper Royal either. Neither of them could hack it! High society, the rigours of Royal life ~ you know what I mean, opening garden fetes in Surrey and what ‘ave yu; ‘arry just weren’t cut out for it. He’s more yu stay at home with his PlayStation type. I imagine that the nearest he got to being Royal was wearing a pair of monogrammed jim jams. Did I say that right?”

“Monogrammed?”

“No, jim jams ~ you wally! And did you ever take a good look at ‘arry’s shoulder.”

“Not really, I …”

“Well had yu dun, you would ‘ave seen a chip the size of Harrod’s! The question is was ‘arry waiting, brooding, biding ‘is time ~ waiting for the moment when he could get the Royal Family’s leg up, as payback for the shabby way he believed his mother had been treated and was Meghim that moment?

“I mean, if anyone knows ‘arry’s weaknesses it stands to reason it would be ‘er, and she would also know that once she’d got him by the …”

“Niagaras,” I proffered, politely.

“Yeh, that’s them. They would be in and out …”

“Steady!”

“ … in and out of the Royal Family faster than you can shout ‘yo-yo’. Now, it don’t take a university degree in common sense …”

“Good,” I thought.

“… to skip onto the next hopscotch square, if your British, and the next small boat in France if you’re not, to work out the rest of the plot. Harry meets Meghan, is seduced by her sparkles, next thing you know it’s the old horse and carriage, feet under Windsor Castle’s dining table, up comes the winging and next they are doin’ a bunk. Give it a month or two and then comes a touch of the Kinks …”

“Sorry, you’ve lost me,” I interjected.

“… you know, the Kink’s ~ the lyrics, ‘tellin’ tales of drunkenness and cruelty’, moaning on about the Royal Family, tellin’ tales out of school, making themselves out to be victims … victims with a capital ‘P’.

“Don’t you mean ‘V’?”

“No, I mean victims with a capital ‘P’ for Publicity.

“Call me Cynical, but the liberal-lefty press loves this sort of thing, because once the race card has been played, they can follow suite, stirrin’ up more division with loadsa articles and programmes on the telly about discrimination and all the usual old guff that most of the UK population don’t listen to anymore.”

“So, where will it all end?”

“It won’t end ‘appilly for ‘arry, and that is a fact! The public might be thick, or they might be overly sensitive, but the media will, and are, finding it difficult to pull the same scam twice. Oh, the liberal-lefty media will make much out of it, they always do, and they will use words like ‘Outrage’ in their headlines and exaggerate the number of Brits that see the world as they tar it, but they’ve got off to a bad start anyway. Ninety percent of comments at the end of online articles and from Arsebook users show that ‘arry and his paramount haven’t got half as much of the sympathy vote as Di got, and most people are glad to see the back of them.”

“And you?”

“Well, I don’t much mind seeing the front of Sparkle, but call me cynical, what goes around comes around. In my mind, the discriminated duo is pullin’ a fast one and like any drag-racing fan will tell you, once the flames and thunder have died away all that is left is the skidmarks!”

“Last word?”

“Underpants! Tell ‘arry to buy some soon. He’s goin’ to need them on this roller coaster ride”

Call Me Cynical pauses.

“At least they won’t be on the tax-payers money!”

Edifying links:
Coronavirus Truth or Trickery, Trick or Treat
Talking Wollocks!
Tracking World Vaccination with the Prickometer
So Frightened of Priti Patel