A final glimmer of Britain

I began writing this article a few weeks back shortly after the local government elections on May the 5th . As everyone in Britain knows, those were elections which saw significant success for the Tories and some success for Labour too, except in Scotland, where a Scottish party, calling themselves “Nationalist”, but which welcomes multiculturalism to the point where it will surely destroy all dreams of a true Scotland, scored a massive and unexpected triumph. 

All other parties suffered varying degrees of defeat. 

  

In the wake of that further affirmation of what seemed like a national death wish, I sat down and wrote the following:

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When was it I wonder the English stopped loving their children? when did we become one of the very first people in history, who do not care a damn what future our offspring will face? 

There are many, I am sure, who would claim to take offence at what I have just written, and who would angrily insist they are entirely devoted to their children.  But how can I believe them in the face of overwhelming evidence that they must be lying?

As the mother of son's I quake at the thought of what they will face when they become part of an ethnic minority in their homeland, an event likely to occur much sooner than we once thought. Recent figures suggest the tipping point, when non-whites become a majority in Britain, could be as soon 2043, thirty two years from now, not 2060 as previously thought. 

Ethnic minorities do not fare well in third world countries, but that's the future my sons will face when they are still young men.  Other mothers' sons and daughters face the same fate, but, unlike me, it seems those mothers, and those fathers simply do not care.

How can they love that which they would so lightly sacrifice to such a hell?  

The British people embraced their death again on May the 5th, how many more chances will they have before it is too late, assuming it has not already past that point?

Seemingly without a care they meander forward towards a dark place which will be terrible to see, complicit in their own destruction,they are the stained handed murderers of their children's dreams. 

Most suicidal of all were those of the white working class, who voted for Labour, a party  which despises them and has for at least four decades been conspiring for their destruction.  A party which has already engineered the ethnic cleansing of  working class communities from Bradford to Bristol and from Leeds to Lancashire, and which has transformed our ancient capital into a majority non-white city, driving, amongst others, London’s Cockneys into Essex and into history.

We all mocked those American teenagers a few weeks back when then tweeted onto Twitter “who is Bin Laden and why’s it good he’s dead?”, but are they really dumber than those who still believe the old lie that “Labour is for the Common Man”. Not if that common man is white they’re not, at least they haven't been since the 1950’s.

Like livestock voting for the horrors of halal, working class Britons went in their millions to put their crosses next the poison rose which spells their doom. Should I really pity such stupidity?

Even less deserving of pity are Liberal Democrat supporters, whether they voted for the party or, horrified by the realities of power voted  Labour, they are equally suicidal. However, given it is now quite clear Liberal Democrats are not grown up, they deserve little more than our contempt.

In some ways, of course, those who voted Tory are the most shameful, in their hearts the average Tory voter knows the truth but they dare not face it and would sacrifice their children before they do.

I look upon them and I wonder, do they deserve what is coming to them, these stupid. immature and cowardly people who flocked to sign their death warrants in polling booths across the land, do they want to be saved and are they in fact beyond saving?

Other races have died before and other civilisations have fallen, is it our turn to follow the Aztecs, the Minoans, Incas and the Babylonians into the echoing void of history?  Is our great civilisation, surely the greatest the world has ever seen, set to follow Rome and Ancient Egypt into defeat, destruction and decay, our crumbling monuments, magnificent ruins, the only evidence of what went before?

Do our people know their death awaits, surely they too can see what is plain to me, and if they do, can it be they really do not care? Is there nothing left of the Britain that we were? Has our blood run cold?         

Within one hundred years the descendants of those immensely brave Britons who celebrated VE day in 1945 on the streets of London will have been driven from that city.  They are already a minority there.

Did it take just sixty short years for our race to come to this?  We are not the same people our forefathers were.  We spring for the loins of greatness but have forgotten how to be great.

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I stopped writing then, and put the article aside.  I wondered if what I had written was of any benefit, and if anything was to be gained from exposing one woman's despair at a nation wilfully engaged in writing its own epilogue.

It was then that I watched a TV programme called “Wooten Bassett the town which remembers”.  As the world now knows Wooten Bassett is the Wiltshire Market town which lies between RAF Lyneham, the Royal Air Force's principal transport hub, and Oxford's John Radcliffe Hospital.  It is therefore the route which the hearses have to take when transporting fallen soldiers when they are brought home from Afghanistan.

The people of Wooton Bassett have taken to welcoming those brave young men home, standing along the roadside in silent tribute and comforting the families of the dead.  Over the months and years more and more have travelled to join them until the repatriations have become a sombre, but hugely well attended and symbolic event.  Those who come do not do it for the cameras, or or the bemused and patronising journalists who turn up to record what is to them a bizarre spectacle. Way out of sight of the cameras, along the roadside and in the lay-bys they stand silently and they salute, as the tragic cavalcade goes by, carrying those they have come to mourn.

The people of Wooton Bassett were interviewed and they were a rare sight, they are a type of people, although legion in our land, who are not usually welcome on our TV screens. They were not the dissembling creeps who claim to represent us in Parliament, the chattering classes who usually dominate the airways or the mockney accented public schoolboys who pose as entertainers. They were not the slimy treacherous judges or avaricious white hating lawyers who administer what passes for justice in this land, or the broadcasters who learnt to hate us on their Stalin praising fathers' knees. They were the reality of England, a people motivated and filled with love of their country who come to honour the brave and beautiful young men, sacrificed in illegal wars by the crooks and monsters who currently rule over us.                     

They were also anything but multicultural, certainly not in any way which would be permissible now in any staged media event.  As the cameras scanned the crowd anxiously attempting to light on an ethnic face amongst the mass homogeneous whiteness, they could have been the scene of any British city of forty years ago, or indeed the myriad British towns which they do still represent.

Then I thought of another event in recent weeks, the Royal Wedding, and the million strong crowd  thronging the streets, a crowd not ethnically mixed, as our dishonest media claimed they were, but massively, overwhelmingly, white.  The chattering commentators expressed their horror at the almost total whiteness of the congregation, but dared not admit that same whiteness extended to crowds outside.  Where would that leave, inclusive, integrated multicultural Britain?

However, multicultural Britain was no more on show on the streets surrounding Westminster abbey on the day of the Royal Wedding than it is on the streets of Wooton Bassett at each repatriation.

Whatever you may think of the current Royal family (and I personally an cautiously optimistic about the two princes) one could not help but marvel at the massive crowds of English men and women crowding the streets of our capital, as they have done for 1,000 years, their hearts swelling with an innate sense of their heritage and cheering for even the least impressive of our nation's monarchs.

As I considered those two events, I began to realise how wrong I was in what I wrote at the beginning of this article.  Britain is still out there, our people still exist, there are merely hidden from us by the gaudy pallet screen which the media places before us, and, of course, before them.

Although it may not seem that way from what we see on out TV screens and on many city streets, native Britons are still by far the majority in this country and they can still be saved.  The majority of native Britons never voted for multiculturalism and are deeply suspicious of it, they resent and oppose mass immigration and they are seriously concerned about the rise of Islam.  They also worry deeply about the sort of country their children will inherit.

They have not expressed those views because they have been taught to feel guilty about them  by a tiny minority with monopoly access to the communications media, and they have never yet voted in support of those views because they have never yet been offered a viable Nationalist alternative.

Those who say “they could have voted BNP” are fooling themselves.  The BNP have never yet found a means of disproving the media lies about them.  In fact, in many ways despite the herculean efforts of many activists, too many BNP members (and their leaders)  have done everything in their power to prove the liars right              

There are actually BNP members and supporters who appear to believe that, for instance, if they make “funny” Nazi salutes at cameras or are filmed giving their child a gollywog, the public will perceive these as ironically humorous gestures. 

The BNP has politicians who indulge in fisticuffs in front of the national media because an Asian spits at them (what do you think the spitting Asian wanted you to do when he spat?). It employs security guards who stick their fingers up the noses of unfriendly journalists when they forcibly eject them from meetings in front of a blaze of flash bulbs, whilst adopting facial expressions not unlike that of a particularly malevolent pit-bull.

Nationalists climb over each other so as to get into debates or write articles expressing moral and sexual attitudes which would sit more comfortably in down town, Islamabad than they would in a modern British household, and when doing so use language Jim Davidson might consider a tad off colour.  (If you want to go on a moral crusade, go on a moral crusade, but get out of our way, we are trying to save our race.)

Much has already been said about the quality of people appointed to positions of power.  However, if the party is seriously considering replacing one non-telegenic leader with a criminal record and a history of Holocaust denial with an equally non-photogenic (and older) leader with a criminal record and a history of Holocaust denial, they will need to work out:

a)  how they are going to sell him to modern Britain    
b)  how he might come across on Question Time

(Yes I know the convictions are establishment imposed war wounds, but such nuances matter more to history and to the party faithful than they do to the wider public)

Across Europe, Nationalism is in the ascendency, in Britain it seems to have stalled, and although many Nationalists have worked tirelessly, many others have to accept their responsibility for that.  Too many British Nationalists have spent the last 43 years since Enoch Powell warned us what was happening, squabbling amongst ourselves, sniping at other nationalists and indulging their own particular prejudices, issues and hang-ups rather than presenting the public with a party they feel comfortable in voting for.

It is true that Nationalist parties are subject to constant smears from the media, but in honesty, many Nationalists have made it very easy for them to smear us.

I am sure we all reach the point which I did when I started writing this article, and it is true that, in many ways the circumstances are dire.  However, there is nothing to be achieved in bemoaning a situation when we are part of the problem. 

We should be better placed, Our enemies have overplayed their hand, in particular the New Labour open door immigration policy was a spectacular own goal, which the country is starting to wake up to. The non-white population of Britain has grown by 40% in the last eight years, if that rate continues, and why wouldn't it?, at a conservative total of 9.1 million, not including another 1 million of mixed race, that total will grow to almost 35 million by 2043 (you do the maths).  If the Nationalist movement can not advance on the strength of that fact alone, we do not deserve to.

In many ways the situation is as dark as I described at the beginning of this article, but it is always darkest before the dawn, and everything is still to play for. If, after over four decades of self indulgence, squabbling, gaffes and pure stupidity, we can finally get out act together, there is a chance, faint but still viable, that we could save this country.

Our people are still out there, we only have to reach them.