I consider myself a moderate in Right-Wing terms. I do not hate anyone, but am repelled by many who hold opinions and activities which may very well harm both my family, my friends and my country. I am not readily drawn into anger, nor do I hold with those that do allow their anger to be reflected in unlawful or deadly acts. My elder brother, whom I have written about before in terms of his aptitude with things mechanical and electrical, considers me in political terms a ‘fascist’ whose political bedfellows include Nick Griffin and the shades of that well-loved human rights activist Adolf Hitler, but I just smile and worry about his blood pressure. So you can maybe understand and accept that I am a typical Englishman, with all my faults and virtues on show, for I do not dissemble well, and tend to speak as I find.
So you can maybe understand why a fellow customer of the supermarket cafeteria, where I was having coffee with my wife, felt compelled to approach me and state that I was not alone in my utter anger and disgust at the further revelations of the activities of the thieves and vagabonds who masquerade as Members of Parliament at Westminster. I was reading the pages of the Telegraph which showed both the pages of various politician’s expenses and allowances with what was considered to be ‘sensitive’ or ‘personal’ material redacted or blanked out, and the newspapers’ version which had only such details as addresses and phone numbers blanked, and the difference was sufficient to make me furious, with both the clutch of thieves in Westminster and with myself and my Country! My reactions must have been strong, because many others looked around, and being English of course, sideways and silently, at this bearded elderly man thumping the table in visible anger and rage whilst reading the columns of a newspaper! We have been fools for too long, and we should be collectively ashamed of ourselves for even believing or listening to this pack of liars and knaves!
We must rid ourselves of this den of thieves, not in anger but in cold deliberation, because by the very fact that these pages were published by the Westminster gang after the knowledge that the cat was indeed out of the bag, and, in the words of many Victorian melodramas, ‘All is Known’! They didn’t even have the brains to overcome their huge arrogance and acknowledge that they had gone beyond the limits of British Tolerance.
As others before me have quoted from a historic figure in British history, I can but utilise his immortal phrases again, because there is no other way to tell these clowns that the jig is up, and they are for the collective high jump:
“You have been sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you.
In the name of God, go!.”
Fire, Pillage & Plague 