Minority

In less than a century my country has changed, altered beyond recognition, I wonder what Henry Allingham thinks of the changes, behind those eyes what thoughts swirl, what memories play out. Mr Allingham is lucky, (if outliving your children can be considered luck) not just because he has lived so long but because, he lived then, when Great Britain was indeed great and bent its knee to none. Today of course, we are merely a satellite state of America and it seems that America is not governed for American interest, one wonders for whose interest she works. The American people suffer as we do bad government, fake democracy, financial slavery, leftist poison and racial Armageddon, their borders non-existent as are ours, the west is under attack and few care. Of course the phrase “the west is under attack”, will bring to mind Islamic terrorism, the image of a bearded fanatical Mohammedan shall loom large, this terrible figure shall stir the course of our culture, be the threat real or imagined. This spectre allows the true enemies of western culture free reign, the image itself a key that closes many locks, the greatest of which shackles our very freedoms.

Those whom consider themselves of the right, jump gleefully into the trap set for them helping to foster this purported threat; they spent vast amounts of resources and time contesting Islam whilst aiding only our enemies. In reality of course Islam presents as no threat, having neither the resources nor the firepower to wage a successful campaign, no the threat to the west is really very simple it is the racial impact, the genetic change, the mutation of a race, the enforced genocide of a people. Strong words you may think, you are taught to believe they are wrong words, taught that racial preservation, at least for whites is evil, hateful, sinister, intellectuals captured in an earlier campaign against the west, now preach from false pulpits and lamentably they have a willing audience. We see with each generation the damage they have wrought, can we in all fairness defend our culture now, against the assertion that it is decadent, immoral, we cannot, Islam in this regard has a point.

Leftist interference has altered the western mindset, unleashing a new culture, warped, corrupted, moulded until no more needs to be done, the monster can be set free, western culture has moved from the concept of community to the concept of self. It has thrown away any concept of concern for others, although it uses the term “human rights” to terrorise its dissents and force egalitarianism upon a non-equal species. Academia has been harnessed to the chariot of disaster and set upon the road to ruin, yet those self same intellects who advocate leftist ideology, would stand before the wall first should leftist dogma triumph. It would seem that fools are blind, believing until the first shot that they are of the proletariat, no guillotine for them, they are the people, to my mind, even should one choose to disregard history. Forget the very great trauma this ideology has wrought in the world, overlook its malevolent tyrants, listen not to the voices of the lost, the pain of the still living and of course, the warnings of the right, then surely one must realise that egalitarianism by its very nature cannot permit difference, refuses even to recognise it, must destroy it and intellect is, dare I say, difference.

Of course compassion has been corrupted, until it seems western culture must undermine itself in order to aid others, we must weaken our state in order to care, this notion is a complete fallacy of course, one must have shelter to appreciate the dilemma of those who do not, giving if they can, financial aid or practical aid never once thinking to surrender their own abode. Yet extend this perfectly natural feeling onto a national stage and it becomes a supposed evil called nationalism, whereby a nation wishes to keep its traditions, culture and dare I say race intact, whilst having respect for its neighbours. Twenty-first century compassion dictates that, one should give up everything becoming in the process as impoverished as those seeking aid, many will scoff at this notion, for the west is rich, we were, our wealth built on the backs of our people however, we have given the third- world our industry, our know-how. Enabling a vast population the tools to undercut the inventor, we have quite simply out-sourced ourselves, India and China are now the worlds fastest growing economies, whereas we the west face financial instability.

It hasn’t hit fully yet and it may not do until perhaps two generations have passed but at some point, the balance of power shall shift from the west to the east, in the not to distant future, the west shall be harnessed in servitude to those they created, becoming service nations. A brilliant, worthy culture shall cease, is already dying whilst self holds hegemony and then the racial impact, I work long hours, time off is infrequent yet this past week I had a few days off, it gave me chance once again to look to my city. To walk amongst the teeming multitudes and observe, brown is now the fashion in this city, it is the colour to be, ones children it seems must hold the gene, in this city the home of my family for innumerable years, mixed race is now the norm. Young mothers brazenly dressed, push buggies of cultural destruction, gangs of non-whites loiter menacingly, lions awaiting prey, young whites dressed the part listen to tribal drivel, pumping it out on tiny speakers on petite mobile phones.

They speak an alien patois, not meant for nor needed on these shores, I look for white, I long for white, my heart aches for other times, I walked these same streets with my grandmother an age lost to us now. Gone politeness, gone a smile, now the snarl of the predator, where is white, not amongst the maddening crowd I see, least not this one, pubescent predators and slatternly young girls, shame has no purchase on those minds, pride no chance to grow in those hearts. I detect it amongst this babble of alien tongues, the faint scent off yesteryear I see it in the architecture and there, her arms wrapped defensively, an old lady, peers out of a wrinkled face, with scared uneasy eyes, her husband made an impotent protector by age, stands at her side. He to looks on mournfully he reflects the look I to must emit, part sorrow, part despair and enormous anger. How dare they, how dare they destroy us, for what, all that we are, cast aside as nothing, reduced to this, this travesty of a culture.

He looks up catches my eye and an unspoken sadness transmits, I almost imperceptibly nod my head and continue on my way, I feel very like a stranger in a strange land, white is hard to discern lost in a snowstorm of brown, despair eats me alive, can we come back from this, or must we find some new land and begin again. My home town will be one of the first to turn minority white, if not the first, already other cultures dominate the landscape, other tongues drown out our nation’s mother tongue. Strange writing above most shops, peculiar food and odd attire English a whispered language, an undercurrent, below the crescendo and din. The west seems lost here, Caucasian a myth, the crowds part reluctantly as two police officers amble down, belts festooned with weaponry, gone the bobby, now the enforcer. High-visibility jackets vanish in the crowd as it swells back in place, wherever I look non-whites congregate, although in most cases gangs are ethnically based, hostile eyes regard me and my middle-aged fist closes in anticipation, I am young yet, too young to be your prey. Each cold stare is returned, perhaps a hundred times more, just what have they done, desolation ravages, misery feasts and hopelessness dogs my step, the smell of drugs permeates the air, the sickly sweet smell now everyday. Bleakness embraces, the fight is lost, give in, capitulate as so many have, think of self and nothing more and then I see, walking, forced by the crowds to walk by the kerb a different face in a buggy.

A smiling white face and a proud mother, the mother looks fleetingly towards me, a similar face in the crowd, the baby turns its beaming face to look before again, it to is lost in the crowd, my strength returned I stride through this alien throng, this non-indigenous huddle, I arrive at a fellow nationalists house finally relaxing amongst my own. This city of our birth is lost to us we conclude, despair grips my friend by the shoulders even as his anger transmits as thunder, “we should go to America, forget it all, this country is finished”, “it is the same there”, “never! they wouldn’t stand for it, wouldn’t let it happen”. “Do they have a choice, do we”, where then, where do we have left? “I don’t know, no-where”, “why are we letting this happen, not fighting back”, “because they’re winning the propaganda war”.

I return home to a phone call, “Have you seen what they’re doing to Ireland? Another nationalist friend, his voice imbued with sadness and laced with terrific anger, I read it on Hibernia Girl’s site and so much later, I to read “what they’re doing to Ireland” and many other precious places and I remember a smiling baby in a pushchair, I look at the photos of my children upon the wall and I can never give in, it is for them you see. 14

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