Saturday, September 23, 2006

Nowadays, British politicians go around in heavily-guarded, bullet-proof vehicles. They no longer expose themselves to the rough-and-tumble of what used to be politics until about twenty years ago. I'm getting old, I can remember Quintin Hogg electioneering on Chiswick Common in West London, standing on a platform ringing a huge bell both to make his point and to drown out any hecklers. An old Tory rogue who brought a little bit of entertainment to the hustings.

Unlike the present generation of pampered, not very intelligent, permanently po-faced political bureaucracia who have to be protected from the seething anger of their volatile electorate by men in black and personal bullet-proof vests.

So Reid makes a big deal of going to address a public meeting in Leytonstone where the audience was hand-picked as, no doubt, was our agent provocateur, the ubiquitous Abu Izzadeen (aka Trevor Brooks). On cue, he goes into his tirade before being thrown out of the meeting by some bald-headed Asian bruisers and a Noddy-like policeman who most likely got his job with the Met just to keep the ethnic numbers balanced.

All good fun.

Except for the great hoo-haa that followed in the mainstream media where a noisy Caribbean dressed up in Arab mufti is presented to the world as an 'extremist' (read terrorist) and just the kind of threat all decent folk (read whites) are having to face today due to 'letting them take over our country.' Journalists and politicoes justify their jobs by pontificating about the disgraceful attack which has been made on our democratic system, blah, blah and just how this kind of thing is going to bring even further trouble and strife to the streets of Britain.

Wishful thinking more like, I would say, still remembering the afternoon forty-six years ago when as a school-boy I was cornered by a group of local west London yobs saying they were from the British Nazi Party who beat me up and sent me home with a broken nose and blood splattered all over my shirt.

That was a long time before the 'Islamic threat' was conjured up by Richard Perle, the 'Prince of Darkness', and his neo-con demons. It was that day I shall never forget when my eyes were opened to the real world of Anglo-Saxon values that lies behind the hypocrisy and self-perpetuating myth of 'British tolerance'. Let's face it, Anglo-Saxon culture remains tribalistic, repressed, intolerant, alcohol-sodden and violent as ever it was as anyone who has fallen foul of an English football hooligan will know.

Ah, but they're the lower classes you see. We middle class folk are not like that because most of us have university educations. Well, as Lennie Bruce, the comedian once said, "scratch a liberal and you'll find a fascist inside." Sadly, that's one of those perennial truths that shows no sign of going away. For, today, it's precisely the so-called liberals and lefties-turned-neocons who are reinforcing the old stereotypes of empire, white superiority, blitzkrieg (read 'shock & awe') and genocide masquerading as a 'war on terror', the modern-day 'white man's burden'.

We let them in (as coolies) to do the jobs that no one would do. We gave them a race relations board to believe they have equal rights (which everyone knows they don't unless they're insulated by wealth) and we announced ourselves to be living in a multi-cultural society (which was a terrible mistake and now we take it all back). And now see how they bite the hand that feeds them with their terrorists! You see where our tolerant attitudes have got us? Now no one's safe from the mad mullahs who are determined to turn Britain into a fanatical Muslim caliphate, blah, blah, blah.

Tolerance, moderation, fair-mindedness. All good British roast-beef values. Well, maybe. Until mad cow disease and a rogue Texan gangster put an end to it all. For there's very little of any of that in the modern fiefdom, Britannia, Airstrip One, him-belong-to-the-Great-White-Father-over-the-Water, him-do-as-he's-told-or-else, that we live in today. Where we are told by some ignorant, pretend-cowboy who our 'extremist enemies' are. Where selective memory is carefully trained by the mainstream media to focus on where the REAL DANGER lies, where we are allowed to watch on our reality screens the great ongoing battle between Oceania, Eurasia and the other Evil Empires, where our 'democratic' political leaders make all the right decisions on our behalf, where most of the human carnage is either kept off the screen or dismissed as 'inevitable collateral damage', where our cherished values are under threat by dusky aliens, the very coolies we gave the privilege of bettering themselves and whose parents came here as immigrants.


That is what they are for daring to speak for all their brothers and sisters in the Ummah being slaughtered relentlessly by a cold-blooded killer who justifies his endless 'Christian' jihad with the words 'democracy' and 'crusade'. Why can't these Muslims just shut their minds from all these nasty things and get on with their mundane, everyday lives like the rest of us do? Why can't they assimilate and dress (and talk, and look?) like the rest of us?

(And why don't they all go back to where they came from?)

Now, if it had been a Caribbean Trevor Brooks, dressed in conventional western clothes with a neutral middle-class, Surrey accent and of a gentler, even reticent nature, then ok we could have shut him up in mid-flow. But this was a dangerous black Muslim cockney (remember Malcolm X and his Black Panthers?) dressed up like Bin Laden, striking at the very heart of our British freedoms!


To go around doped-up or switched-off from the reality of the world not so far away from our windows? To turn our minds away from the indescribably massive orgy of violence and murder that is going on on our planet right now in our name, paid-for by our taxes, where our children are used as cannon-fodder lucky to return from the battlefields alive?


It can only all be the result of Mad Cow Disease

For More Comment on the Mad Heckler, read this

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