Monday, 4 September 2006

The New Conquest of Britain


Make no mistake about it, Britain is under foreign occupation. We have been invaded by stealth; our country is being subjected to the biggest cultural and demographic upheaval since the Norman Conquest. We are ruled by a puppet government which is collaborating with, and is sustained in power by the invaders and their sponsors.

The subjugation of our country is the linchpin to their plans for globalization and the abolition of nation states. Britain has always been the 'awkward squad' among the family of nations; ours is the country most likely to 'put a spanner in the works' of anybody else's global ambitions. In order to break us before we cause trouble yet again, an undeclared war of dysgenics (ethnic dilution) is being waged against us. The unspoken aim is to 'Breed the Bulldog out of Britain.'

So you think these are the paranoid ravings of a madman?

Then let me tell you: so confident are the invaders of their stratagem they no longer bother to hide their expansionist intent. In a Radio 4 discussion programme, Ram Gidoomal (millionaire businessman and London mayoral candidate who arrived as a refugee from Kenya in 1967) told us how it is.

In response to the Mayor of Amsterdam's gloomy prediction that 60% of his city's population would be non-Dutch by 2020, Mr Gidoomal suggested: "Mr Mayor, could you not proudly say that, by 2020, 100% of Amsterdam is going to be Dutch. The definition of Dutch will be changed."

Mr Gidoomal seems to be advocating for Amsterdam nothing less than an 'ethnic oil-change' by subterfuge - and by extrapolation for Britain also! Of course, the words of a single individual could be shrugged off as loose talk from a maverick. However, since Mr Gidoomal's utterance is crisply in step with the aspirations and the intent of the World Trade Organization, we really must sit up and take notice.

"None of us had ever seen a black man before".

No doubt the words 'conquest', 'occupation' and 'invaders' stick in your craw. They stick in mine too. So consider for a moment, the extent of this invasion at a personal level (and anyone over fifty-five can tell you a similar tale): I was brought up in Tring, some thirty miles from London. I was seven years old. The war was not long over and one day there was a buzz of excitement in the town centre. People came running; just as they did when the first off-the-ration groceries arrived in town. But this day they came running, not for rations, but because a black American serviceman had been seen. He had parked his jeep near the church and was sauntering across the road to the Rose & Crown. We were agog with curiosity. Delighted! Excited! Such a thing had never been seen in Tring. None of the children and few of the adults had ever seen a black person before. I was nine before I saw an Asian; also an ex-serviceman. He visited our schol and spoke to one or two of us about cricket. Our mumbled replies ended with a respectful 'Sir'; any other form of address would have been unthinkable. I remember, before he arrived we had been warned in the strongest terms not to stare; "it might make him feel uncomfortable or unwelcome."

No need for such a warning now. When I walk to the shops (true, I now live in Bradford, but in an area that is usually regarded as 'white') I expect to pass quite as many Asians as I do English people.

Yes, the war was a long time ago; and yes, at that time (1946) we Britons were an insular people; and yes it is splendid that we are less so now, but cosmopolitan savoir-faire should not come at the expense of a wholesale invasion of our country.

You think I overstate the case?

The Office for National Statistics admits to an ethnic minority of 5 million (7.9 per cent of the country's population) all of whom have arrived here during my lifetime. Compare this to William the Conqueror's efforts. He licked us into shape with a mere 50,000 troops and other personnel - the equivalent of just one per cent of the British population at that time. These official figures (2001 census) are out of date and when illegals and unrecorded EU migrants are taken into account the figure could now be as high as 15 per cent for England and Wales. The official figure for London is already a startling 27 per cent. In the inner city areas of places such as Bradford the immigrant population and their descendants are an out-and-out majority - in Bradford's case overwhelmingly so. On my weekly visit to the supermarket (32 checkouts)* more than two thirds of the customers and staff are of non-European origin. And of the remaining 33 per cent, how many of us will be English?

Don't tell me that this is not an invasion!


One law for them, another for the rest of us

The British people did not invite this invasion. We did not give our consent to it. We were never asked! Public debate has been stifled. At street level the right to discuss, criticise or oppose the invasion is outlawed - yes, outlawed! It may even be illegal for me to draw attention to this mass-migration and call it an invasion or a conquest.

Nevertheless, in historical terms, it is a Conquest!

It is a Conquest when laws are enacted to promote the interests of the invader over those of the native Briton (viz: the Race Relations Acts).

It is a Conquest when free speech is denied by law - the Race Relations Acts again - so that we now have the sorry spectacle of British people looking over their shoulder before they dare to question the numbers of foreigners of all races jostling for space in our towns and cities; "You're not allowed to say anything about it these days, are you?" And in the street rather than point out the bad or sometimes illegal behaviour of an asylum seeker, or complain about an immigrant who blatantly exploits Britain's generosity, people shrug and whisper together: "You can't say anything about them, can you?"

It is a Conquest when only 'whites' can be racist; when an invader can insult you in any terms he wants, yet if you turn round and reply in the same terms, then you are guilty of a racial offence. If he thinks you have been racially offensive, then you are de facto guilty!

It is a Conquest when government departments and services are required to employ, regardless of ability, a quota of 'ethnic' minorities; when employers are advised they should employ 'ethnic to 'white' ratios which reflect the makeup of the local population; when those employers have to accept less exacting standards from ethnic minority workers than they do from ethnic-British workers.

It is a Conquest when positive discrimination for ethnic minorities is rife: when government job-creation schemes for ethnic minorities abound. (The subtext of: "if you're English don't bother to apply" is permissible under special caveats within the Race Relations Acts).

It is a Conquest when new arrivals are fast-tracked into the benefits system, into housing and medical treatment while those who have paid National Insurance for forty, and in some cases, fifty years face the prospect of shrinking pensions, deferred retirement; and if they fall ill and need an operation they may have to wait for up to two years for surgery in a hospital which may be infected with MRSA.

It is a Conquest when a Commission for Racial Equality - a body composed, in the main, of non-British-born people or people of non-British extraction - is set up to promulgate their own McCarthyite doctrine and to ensure that employers, the police, the courts, government and above all the media stay 'on message'… If they don't, revenge is swift: the recent removal of Robert Kilroy-Silk from our screens is a case in point.

COUP D'ETAT & the BBC Propaganda Machine

As in all modern coups d'état, the media have been pivotal in this latest Conquest of Britain. They have abetted the invader relentlessly and without shame. The former Director General of the BBC famously described the Corporation as being 'hideously white'. Yet even a blind man can hear by the names, never mind see, how vastly over-represented the minorities are on British television; especially in news, sports and children's programmes, when a screenshot without a Black or an Asian face is a rarity indeed.

This over-representation can be nothing other than cynical multiculturalist propaganda; all part of the on-going softening up process. But dare you to mention it, or complain about it… Yes! You'd be branded a racist.
Meanwhile the triumphalist Commission for Racial Equality (CRE) will wonder, as they did recently of Ludovic Kennedy, how "you can be so misunderstanding of the realities of modern multi-racial Britain".

Such patronising disdain only goes to show how very little the Commission's placemen understand of Britain, Britons and Britishness.
It is precisely this arrogance and their ignorance of our culture which puts British backs up. They assume too much.

In fact they presume upon our Britishness!


Islam is the new Church of England.

In their presumption the CRE reveal all too clearly their alien partiality. With mosques and ethnic cultural centres going up quicker than the Norman churches and castles of old we can catch a glimpse of how far-reaching the consequences of this new Conquest are likely to be. Islam has already become the new Church of England: more people attend Mosques on a weekly basis than attend the Established Church; the heir to the Throne is regularly seen in mosques, treading the carpets of Islam. Indeed on present trends, it is reasonable to predict that today's schoolchildren will live to see Bradford, Derby, Leicester and some other English towns and cities demanding, and being given, the status of city states to be governed by Sharia Law - Allaahu Akhbar! (Your local bank already offers Sharia mortgages).

Meanwhile the rest of us, restrained as we are by civil law and bound by our own British good manners, can only tut behind our hands as we watch the 'British way of life' implode. Our polite reserve, our stoicism, our 'niceness', our wry humour, our sense of fair play, our clumsy generosity and yes, our honesty as a nation - all of which assisted the invader to gain a foothold in the first place - are being worn away by the persistent chafe of multi-racial trainers. Like day-trippers to a heritage site, these new invaders of all colours and creeds fail to see how, by pressure of numbers, they destroy forever that which they hoped to enjoy.

And it is all happening without so much as a by-your-leave to the locals. It is colluded with by a government whose coffers are annually replenished by the corporate globalization lobby; by a government who came to power and who will be sustained in power by the non-British segment of the electorate whose five million votes, if used en bloc, could give the immigrant community the balance of power.

And before long, the immigrant community will hold the balance of power in Britain.

Since World War II Britain and the British people have acknowledged and championed the right to self-determination of peoples around the world. So why, in the midst of this surreptitious Conquest of our land, are we, the British people, denied the right to say: 'enough is enough' and to close our doors against further incursion?

Sadly… we are denied a voice because the Conquest of Britain is already a done thing. The multicultural revolution has rolled forward a generation: we now live in occupied territory.

COLOUR, RACE & RELIGION (are their weapons)

It needs repeating. This essay is not about the colour, race or religion of individuals. It is about how these attributes are used - not always or most effectively by the immigrants themselves, but by other interested parties.

Thirty years of propaganda by the media, politicians, leftist teachers, and all manner of minorities with an axe to grind, have made us hypersensitive to those three demon words: 'colour', 'race' and 'religion'. Our apparent 'guilt' about racism is due to the persistence of these pressure groups.

"Britons," they tell us, "are inherently racist." This is not true; has never been true; and if it were true, foreigners would either have tolerated it or departed (just as Britons either tolerate, or avoid, Saudi Arabia) and we would not now be facing the current problems and the emergence of racism where it never existed before. Indeed I would go further and suggest that it is our accusers who secrete the poison which they pretend to abhor; for to accuse a nation (or the police, etc) of racism is, per se, an act of self-serving racism.

Nonetheless their false accusations have left their mark. We have been wrong-footed - as anybody who is falsely accused is - so that we no longer know what is right, what is true and what is a lie. An entire generation of children has been duped into believing the British Empire was 'evil' when it was nothing of the sort; rather it was an enlightenment, the like of which the world had never before seen.

In today's climate of deliberate historical distortion and racial disinformation we go about pretending we can't see the difference between ebony-coloured skin and snow-white.

We are bewildered. And the strands of our bewilderment have been seized upon as weapons and are turned against us. Colour, race and religion are the gossamer threads - five, or ten or fifty million of them - with which the conqueror and his quisling have chosen to bind us and to render us defenceless.

Come on now! Admit it: who amongst us does not now have acquaintances, friends, work colleagues, relatives, partners, cousins, children or grandchildren who could be described as being from one of the ethnic minorities? In my own extended family, I can count three; or is it now four? Half of my work colleagues are Asians. In the shops I am almost invariably attended by someone from an ethnic minority. I am quite at ease in allowing my Pakistani barber or any of his grown-up sons to wield their cut throat razors about my ears and throat.

With all this interconnectedness how can we stand up for Britain, or oppose immigration, without offending our families, our colleagues, our friends and, crucially for me, my barber? At work, how can I say to my good friends and much respected co-workers Nazinin, Ali, Iqbal and others: 'There are too many of you here?' Quite apart from the appalling offence such a remark would cause, it does not reflect my true feelings either. I have no wish to see my friends leave their jobs or the country. I merely want to stop more of their friends and families from coming - Britain is full! Also, after having written this essay how can I now face the small ethnic minority within my own family? How can I say to them: 'It's not personal'? Because as sure a hell they are going to take it personally. Wouldn't you?

So we all keep silent. We are hog-tied by ordinary human decency. Meanwhile our country is hijacked from around us. No! Not by the immigrants. The immigrants are not to blame. They are the unwitting foot soldiers; the cannon fodder; the locusts; the genes whom the enemy has deployed as covering fire while they destroy our country and our society.


"I'd like to see the world for once… All standing hand in hand."

It all started way back in the late nineteen-fifties when a trickle of immigrants from the commonwealth began settling in Britain. The vast majority of us welcomed them. Their colourful diversity leavened our stodgy Britishness. First, calypsos, then racial harmony songs raced up the 'hit parade'. We dined out in what seemed daringly exotic Indian or Chinese restaurants (garish-coloured décor and badly-painted palm trees were sufficient to create the ambiance). We bought cheap but trendy clothes run up by immigrant families.

You know the history: the pill and the sexual revolution; Carnaby Street; in 1967 we excoriated Enoch Powell for his Rivers of Blood speech - we were having too much fun at the carnival to heed some old fuddy-duddy whom we had never heard of. Then in 1971, Coca-Cola screened what was probably the cleverest TV commercial of all time: "I'd like to teach the world to sing… In perfect harmony… I'd like to buy the world a Coke..." In the accompanying visuals, young people from every race upon earth gathered on a green hilltop wearing the vibrant colours of the period. With heads uplifted towards a cerulean sky they sang in unison about global unity and Coca-Cola. "I'd like to see the world for once… all standing hand in hand… and hear them echo through the hills… Ah! Peace throughout the land…"

With its subliminal echoes of the Soviet Collective - Lenin's catchphrase was "peace, land, bread" - and the visual iconography of Hitler Youth, the song seduced a generation. The message of peace and brotherhood defined an era. Coming so soon after the televisual shocks of Vietnam and Biafra, the music reaffirmed that we were all of us equal citizens within the Global Village; citizens with equal rights and equal dignity. We were duty-bound to extend a helping hand to those less fortunate, or less educated than ourselves. Was it not an affront to our common humanity to watch children on the other side of the television screen being skinned alive by US napalm; or pot-bellied and starving in Africa while we dumped jumbo portions of French fries and ice cream into the trash?

It was; and it still is.

To our enormous credit we, in the Developed World, have striven for this vision of "apple trees and honey bees and snow-white turtle doves" ever since. Caring people do caring things and insist upon equality for all.
If there was a difference between 'equality for all' and egalitarianism, it quite passed us by.

Thenceforward multiculturalism was the thing… and the suppression of truth had begun… but since it was for the benefit of the world's poor… Then that was OK… wasn't it?

Meanwhile the trickle of immigrants swelled to a steady stream.


The new creed: but it is a false credo.

In time, the stream swelled to a river so that nowadays "Britain is a multicultural nation". This is the new creed from which none may dissent with impunity. Regardless of political party, this mantra is today's sine qua non of all politicians and every manifesto. "Britain is a multicultural society": so teach the teachers; unbelievers are ipso facto barred from the profession.

"Britain is a multicultural, multi-faith nation": so preach the clergy, the rabbis, the imams and the Royals. They preach it lest they fall into the slough of irrelevance and are forgotten in the onward march of progress.

"Britain is a multicultural society": so say the police because they have been sent on 'racial awareness' courses to learn 'correct thought' about racial issues. Yes, truly, they have been sent to learn 'correct thought'!
And you? Repeat the mantra to yourself and to your friends and you will be as cool as Coca-Cola.

But it is a lie.

You are spreading a lie in the style of Danny Kaye's song: The King's New Suit of Clothes. Remember how, when the King turned out wearing nothing but his birthday suit, all the people oooo-ed and aahh-ed and declared that the King's new suit of clothes "was… altogether the most remarkable suit of clothes that ever they had seen."

Those good people, for fear of appearing stupid or out of step with public opinion, preferred to agree with the slogans about the sumptuousness of the King's doublet rather than say what they knew to be true - that their monarch was stark naked and barking mad.

Similarly today's slogan: "Britain is a multicultural nation" is a barefaced lie. A lie repeated ad nauseam at every opinion-forming level. It is broadcast as often and as loudly as possible so as to drown out any silly little boy who might be stupid enough to pipe out that the King has no clothes.

Or should you be unwise enough to question the validity of the mantra… why then, that proves you are a racist, and anyway, "the crowd… Look at the crowd of Algerians and Tunisians; Poles, Russians; Jamaicans, Haitians; Iranians, Iraqis; Sri Lankans, Bangladeshis. How can anyone say we are not multicultural nation?"

A nation cannot be multicultural: it is a contradiction in terms. A nation is a community of people with a shared history and culture. Nationhood is kinship. Nationhood is based upon a common home, a common language, and most importantly, shared (though often unspoken) values. A nation can no more be multicultural than a language can be multilingual.

So beware! A nation, whose leaders declare it to be multicultural, is a nation usurped. A nation which declares itself to be multicultural has thrown in the towel: it has ceased to be a nation. At best it is a federation of diverse peoples who, having subsumed the territory of the host nation, are in waiting for a new nation (with a new ethnic identity) to emerge; at worst, it is a country sliding into fragmentation and bloody dismemberment. The latter being the most common fate of nations in decline.

With those catchy, yet patently untrue, slogans being screamed ever more desperately at the front of the house, and the secret service and the police recruiting faster than at any time since World War II behind the scenes, then the outlook for the next fifty years of our island's history must be bleak indeed.


Getting worse with every new clause...

Race relations in Britain have never been worse; and they are getting worse with every new clause added to the Race Relations Act and with every further immigrant who sets foot upon our, British, soil.

In the ever-diminishing number of what might be called 'traditional British households', the mood is passing from anger into despair. It is a mood which, because of British understatement and our determination 'not to make a fuss', is dangerously overlooked by those who should know better...

To illustrate the mood down my (very average) street and at my workplace (a call centre) I borrow the coded vernacular of a P.G.Wodehouse novel: Blandings Castle being a metaphor for Britain;

Lord Emsworth speaks for the ethnic Briton;

His guests are the immigrant population and their unintegrated descendants.

We join his lordship in the library where he is complaining with traditional British grumpiness to Lady Emsworth

"The damn fellows won't come down to dinner; or if they do, they refuse to wear a dinner jacket…" (…too many immigrants are unwilling to fall in with the norms of British life; and, as if in a two-fingered defiance of our customs, and increasingly so since 9/11, many Muslims persist in wearing shalwar kameez, the Islamic headscarf or hijaab. Or, as Enoch Powell put it: "There are among the Commonwealth immigrants who have come here to live… many thousands whose wish and purpose is to be integrated and whose every thought and endeavour is bent in that direction. But to imagine that such a thing enters the heads of a great and growing majority of immigrants is a ludicrous misconception and a dangerous one.")

Lord E goes on:

"Now they've taken to ordering the servants about and are telling me, in my own house, how things should be run…" (…the Commission for Racial Equality and the concomitant Race Relations Acts have increasing influence on legislature and the enactment of the law - to wit, the newly appointed Leader of the House of Lords is a Guyanan-born person. She is only one of an increasing number of foreign-born people being elevated to influential positions).

"Meanwhile they lounge about the drawing room smoking my cigarettes and drinking my whisky." (…are required to work to less exacting standards than those of us doing the same job; have little sense of restraint when using the benefits system and other services which are for the protection of the vulnerable, not for the personal enrichment of individuals).

"To top it all, one of them's been taking advantage of that empty-headed little scullery maid… what's her name, Susie, is it?" (In Burnley, Len Starr, BNP Councillor, says: "You end up with young Asian men running around like Jack-the-Lad with white girls, but not the other way round". In Bradford I've heard it straight from Asian mouths - and who in Bradford hasn't? - "White girls is for shagging; Asian girl you gotta marry.")

"When Susie's time comes we'll have to ask poor old Aunt Jane to give up the spare bedroom; I know Aunt Jane's lived here all her life, but what else can I do? She'll have to find somewhere else..." (Every year 90,000 British-born people leave the country for good - the encroachment of the immigrant population is often cited as the reason for their departure.)

"…and didn't you say a couple of their wives were expecting too?" (According to a recent BBC report, ethnic communities in the UK are growing at a rate of 15 per cent compared to a growth rate of 1 per cent for the white population).

Exeunt Angli!


Our capitulation is no longer in doubt.

Countries are not conquered overnight. Conquest is a process, not an event. Seen from afar, conquests are like bacteria spreading across a Petri dish: if the growing medium is hospitable the introduction of a single bacillus can lead to blanket coverage of the dish.

Britain is a hospitable place.

Look at our island's history: in the years before the Roman Conquest, southern England was experiencing creeping Romanisation. Roman-owned villas and farms dotted the South Downs. They supplied grain to Rome's northern armies in Gaul. The Roman Conquest of Britain was but a natural progression of an expanding Empire which needed to secure its grain supplies - just as today, Bush and Blair want to secure their oil supplies in Iraq. By the time Claudius set foot on British soil, the balance of power had already tipped Rome's way. Conquest was a forgone conclusion. The Emperor's sixteen-day excursion to our shores in order to accept oaths of allegiance from tribal elders was little more than ratification of the status quo: a symbolic, rather than heroic, conquest.

A thousand years later, the scenario was very similar. William of Normandy didn't wake up with a bad hangover one October morn and roar: 'Let's go and kick seven bells out of those bastard Brits…' Certainly not! The battle of Hastings in 1066, may be a landmark in British history, but by then much of England was already under the sway of the Normandy. From 1042 onwards, French noblemen were being appointed to positions of influence in England by Edward the Confessor; a man who had spent 30 years in exile in Normandy. Furthermore, many reports insist that by this time he had already promised the English throne to William. By way of hedging their bets the aristocracy of both nations hastened to consolidate their positions by contracting powerful Anglo/Norman marriages. Come the day, the Battle of Hastings (where an untrustworthy King Harold conveniently died) was but the coup de grâce to a kingdom where the 'SOLD' sign was already firmly in place.

Roll forward another millennium, and here we are again. Dodgy in-comers are being promoted to high-status jobs in government and the media. Quisling politicians are appending their signatures to 'Britain for sale' documents. Toadying literati and glitterati have sniffed the wind and are falling over themselves to scramble aboard the multicultural bandwagon and are haranguing the masses to fall in line.

So far, this millennium's conquest has not acquired an individual face such as Claudius, or William the Conqueror. There is no insidious Dr Fu Manchu at the helm of this ghostly ship; only the shadowy World Trading Organization whose stated principal is that global commercial interests are paramount. Any 'obstacles' - such as human rights, justice, local culture, the environment or national sovereignty - which obstruct the path of Global Business Enterprise must be smoothed away; hence the pressure to bounce us into the €uro and the mad haste to abolish national boundaries within Europe.

The ultimate victory of Globalization is now as inevitable as were the tides Romanisation and Normanisation before it. The world has already changed; global economic expansion will bulldoze all in its path. Our capitulation is no longer in doubt.


"Hell they won't lie to me, not on my own damn TV" - Willie Nelson, 2004

John Steinbeck saw it coming. His novel, Grapes of Wrath (1939), is a brutal exposé of Global Business Enterprise in action. It is a prescient warning as to how, in order to create great wealth for the few, globalization can cause not only misery for the migrants, but also a general impoverishment of the host community.

With the coming of mechanisation and the subsequent Dust Bowl conditions in the Mid-West, share-croppers and dirt farmers faced ruin and eviction. As always, someone's misfortune was another's gain. Californian fruit barons were quick to seize the opportunity. They circulated handbills among the destitute. Their leaflets promised fruit picking jobs and a Utopian lifestyle in the sun-drenched vineyards and shaded orange groves of California. With nowhere else to turn, tens of thousands of hungry and homeless migrants took to the road. With a few dollars scraped together by the sale of household goods they set out with their families on twenty, thirty or sixty-day journeys which would bring them to the promised Sunshine State.

Those who arrived were met with baton-wielding, gun-toting police who herded them into shanty towns. As for work - so many of the poorest people in America had responded to those handbills, wages went into free-fall.
Jobs, when there were any, went to those who would work for the lowest pay. Families toiled fourteen hours a day and were paid less than subsistence wages while their children starved in makeshift shelters at the roadside.
Meanwhile, the big orchard and cannery owners had their crops harvested virtually for free… or to put it another way, their orchards were picked and canned, all for the price of a few printed leaflets!

But that's business! And by golly it's good business! And to add spice to the gravy, small acreage farmers in California soon found themselves unable to compete in the depressed market conditions. They had no choice but to sell out to the big companies for peanuts; after which they too joined the labour pool thereby adding momentum to the deflationary spiral.

In today's world another business opportunity has opened up; it's the same game but played with a different twist and on a broader canvas. Nowadays you don't lure cheap labour to the work; you take the jobs to the low-cost labour - to China, The Philippines, Taiwan, Indonesia, Morocco etc. where you get improved productivity for your dollar.

The problem is, ever-expanding production needs an ever-expanding customer base.

You can't sell your product in the Developing World; the people have no money. So you smooth the migratory path of product-starved consumers towards the soft-hearted Western Democracies where migrant wallets will be filled, if not by a pay packet then by State benefits. No need for grubby handbills these days; the pulling-power of global television is enough.

Consider the case of Sahay. He lives in Delhi where by his own hard work he earns $5 a day which is just sufficient to support himself, his wife and two young children in very modest circumstances. On such a wage, he has no money left over to spend on cola, cosmetics, burgers, designer labels, medicines, mobile phones, gasoline, etc.

But if the Sahay family can find their way to Britain… even if Sahay remains unemployed and lives on State benefits, the family can be expected to spend a minimum of $30 per day ($10,000 a year) on cola, burgers, medicine, mobile phones, gasoline, etc. Recent government figures show that asylum seeker families receive on average £16,000 ($22,500) in benefits per annum.

So you can see why Global Business Enterprise is keen to ensure Sahay's entry into Britain; and why the business lobby is keen to ensure our borders remain wide open.

And to add icing to the business cake, once here, semi-legal and illegal migrants can be exploited by employers and forced to accept poverty wages. This depresses the employment market and keeps all wages low; a manoeuvre which fattens the profits of global business.

It all seems a tad too Machiavellian to be credible, doesn't it? But wait, it gets worse.

Fat sums of money donated to political parties (and seats on the Board, with directorial privileges, for parliamentarians) all help to ensure that our politicians remain 'on-side' with the globalization lobby. (Do you remember how during the last British election the political parties had a secret pact not to discuss the immigration problem? Yes! A secret pact.) "Immigration is best left to market forces," the CEOs must have purred into the ears of ministers whilst handing over the big cheques, "best for business and best for Britain."

So the poor keep flooding into the UK and, as a direct consequence, race-hate crime is escalating. Since the millennium we have seen racial disturbances in Bradford, Burnley, Oldham, Wrexham and Scotland; in Derby ethnic groups are fighting among themselves. Meanwhile ministers pretend we do not have an 'immigration problem' and a Pontius Pilate Home Secretary David Blunkett there is "no obvious limit" to the number of immigrants who can settle in this country. Furthermore from May 2004 our doors were thrown open to ten former Soviet States. We were warned to expect at least 20,000 per year - but 191,000 arrived in July alone!

As I said above, the concept of the independent nation state is being consigned to the scrap heap of history.


By 2050 Britain will no longer be an Anglo-Saxon country

The arithmetic is stark. Given the higher birthrates among immigrants and the ever-increasing number of mixed relationships, by the year 2050, Britain will no longer be an Anglo-Saxon country. By then any full-blooded Anglo-Saxon child (e.g. a child with a full set of ethnic-British grandparents) will be as rare a bird as was that black American serviceman whom I saw strolling over to the Rose & Crown in 1946. That wondrous GI was, metaphorically speaking, the first bacillus on the Petri dish.

Within the span of a century, Britain will have undergone a complete ethnic blood-transfusion.

Now don't tell me that that is not ethnic cleansing!

It is dysgenics on the grand scale: a hippy prophecy become reality:

What we need is a great big melting pot
Big enough to take the world and all it's got
Keep it stirring for a hundred years or more
And turn out coffee-colored people by the score
Blue Mink: released in 1969.

"Why doesn't someone do something about it?" The perennial cri de coeur of the British.

"Because there is no one there old chap": that someone whom the British invoke when anything needs putting right, be it imminent invasion by the Hun or a hole in the road, is no more: we got rid of him!

Since Norman times we have relied on the man in the 'Big House' fix all our external problems. We tilled the soil, and they tended to the machinations of the greater world. For centuries the British upper and lower classes have coexisted in this uneasy symbiotic relationship which in rural areas endured until the nineteen-fifties: it can still be observed through the rose-tinted windows of those country house novels by Agatha Christie, P.G.Wodehouse and also in Kazuo Ishiguro's masterful Remains of the Day. Iconic country house life is to Britain what the Wild West is to America: it is both mythic and inspirational. In broad terms it is the template by which Britain has lived successfully for a thousand years.

Was it universal education, the effects of two world wars, the socialist movement, universal suffrage, the influence of Hollywood, rock 'n' roll, the sexual revolution, or plain spite which put paid to all this? All probably played their part.

Whatever it was, in order to earn extra votes and to sell extra newspapers, successive governments and media tycoons joined forces to play upon the petty resentments which ordinary people bore against their 'betters'.

Eventually punitive taxes and public ridicule drove the upper classes into retreat and then to virtual extinction. Glad to be rid of our traditional restraints, the rest of us turned to follow the Pied Piper tune of equality - "well, it's only fair, isn't it?" - only to discover that without realising it we'd signed up for egalitarianism (or equality, by order) which in effect means reducing excellence to the level of indolent incompetence (remember the nationalised industries?); thence to a welfare dependency more debilitating than a heroin addiction; thence to the victim culture where everybody needs 'counselling and support' - today's terminology for 'thought control' (remember the police and their 'correct thought' courses?).

When we cut the age-old umbilical between the classes we threw away all that we had. As with so many prickly marriages, when bound unwillingly together we sparked against each other and become greater that the sum of the parts. Our bitter partnership generated an electricity which has been both fiercely creative, and enduring. Together we had the world at our feet. Yet when pulled asunder we are nothing but a headless bulldog to be picked over by scavengers.

As happens with all regime changes, opportunist, vengeful, chip-on-the-shoulder politicians have surged into the vacuum. Whether they call themselves 'labour', 'conservative' or 'liberal democrat' makes no difference: all are signed up to the same agenda and all would have us believe they are cleverer than the toffs whom they have ousted. Cleverer they may be, but they are devoid of that sense of duty and self-sacrifice, which, when welded together with the bulldoggish spirit of the people, made Britain the greatest nation on earth.

Jealous of qualities they know they can never have - because they were not raised to the task - today's sour-mouthed leaders are determined to eradicate, once and for all, the ancien régime of the British class system.

To scotch any last minute hankering we may have for a structured society and the British way of doing things, this government has removed the last of the hereditary peers from the House of Lords (so in effect, there are now no real Lords in the Upper Chamber, only egalitarian stooges); it seeks to abolish the Public Schools (these are the élite fee-paying schools like Eton, Harrow, etc which groomed the upper class for leadership); it is within a fox's whisker of abolishing foxhunting which, in England is seen as the embodiment of the upper class at play, and abroad as the quintessence of Britishness.

Worse, government ministers are itching to sign over our currency, our national sovereignty and the defence of the Realm to foreign powers in Europe.

Worst of all, so determined are they to prevent any kind of deathbed resurgence of patriotism (for they know the English never will get out of bed until all hope is lost), they are draining the British Bulldog of its vital Anglo-Saxon lifeblood. In collusion with Global Business Enterprise they are replacing the population of this country with mixed stock from a hundred different nations.

And can you blame them?

The Anglo-Saxon bloodline is a hard act to follow: we gave the world a language; a workable system of democratic government; and a culture which most would agree is the backbone of western civilisation.

What New World Order can ever sit comfortably in such a shadow?

Better then to encourage 'new truths' and new blood to eradicate that illustrious past. To this end, terrorism is talked up so as to frighten us into giving up our freedoms without a murmur. Meanwhile shamelessly untrue slogans* are drummed into us ever more authoritatively from front of house while behind the scenes, to mop up any backsliders, the secret service and the police (increasingly armed) are recruiting faster than at any time since World War II.

Without being aware of it, we have, over the period of a generation, slipped from moderate freedom into tyranny: as yet, a soft tyranny, to be sure; but tyranny nonetheless, where the majority are in thrall to the State for a substantial part - if not all - of their income. In return, governments demand 'correct thought' and a willingness, on our part, to buy into the 'official' mindset and accept without criticism the social conditioning which is reinforced 24/7 on a myriad of TV channels… and throughout the media.

Thus, under the aegis of this New World Order, we are being refashioned into a nation of hybrid, self-pitying, 'victims' shepherded towards an increasingly Orwellian future wherein there is only one certainty: -

Within fifty years of today, the source of the Anglo-Saxon gene pool will have dried up forever.

The last word must go to Isaac Watts (1674-1748):

Time like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Michael Woods - January 2004

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