I’m dying becoz I is Effnic:

The title of the Transplant bunch’s document is The UK Strategy ‘Taking Organ Transplantation to 2020’, and, unintentionally or otherwise, gives  the truth behind the Vultures’ ideas. The hoped-for translation is, of course, the desired pathway, by increasing the so-called donor numbers, to reach their target of 80% of ‘consents’ received for the ‘Harvest’ to begin. The actual translation, to me at least, resonates on the word ‘….Taking….’: meaning grabbing, by any means, legal or otherwise, the organs of those unfortunates still living, but marked with an invisible but indelible sign saying ‘Human remains: Useful’.

But human nature being what it is, ordinary people don’t like being told that the State owns their remains, to be plundered even before natural death occurs, because ‘Oh, just think of those who might benefit! Surely you, or you, or even you; will not stand in the way of surgical, medical and transplant progress?’ The Black & Ethnic Minority Communities, lumping together a large group of people who have literally, nothing else in common besides not being white, seem remarkably reluctant to go against literally decades of their own thoughts, ideals and, dare I say it; Cultures, and quite reasonably say, together; ‘Nope, you can do certain things with our relatives’ bodies, but you cannot slice and dice them just because you reckon it would serve a higher purpose.

Lord knows I disagree with just about all the relative positions, policies and diverse ambitions of our B.A.M.E. subjects who reside, legally, within our borders. I reckon they should get just as much, or alternatively just as little, attention as everyone else. Not a jot more, or less, because of their ethnicity; than the rest of the population of the British Isles; but here is a point: if they don’t want to donate their relatives’ organs, it is on the cards, and in the processes of Law right now, that unless they individually ‘OPT-OUT’ of the system, it will be ‘Harvest time’ for the B.A.M.E. bodies as they lie, still breathing, with the Vultures sharpening up the scalpels, sterilising their trays, and getting their spectacles all fogged-up in anticipation

King was too busy to open the hospital

When Edward the Eighth announced his Abdication, the British people were, literally; stunned. The news, first broken by a Scots reporter with an eye for the extraordinary news that the new King was ‘too busy’ to attend the opening of a new hospital, scooped the world with the printed story that Edward the Eighth, the King who was at that moment planning his Coronation; was in fact meeting a twice-divorced American woman whom he had been ‘involved with’ for over four years. The following furore, heightened by a Church whose leaders who had been silently discouraging of the liaison, but who were now emboldened to speak out against this American divorcee; a Government and a peculiarly compliant Media, newspapers and a docile BBC who suddenly were, literally, unleashed to tell, the story of their uncrowned King who was determined to go ‘His’ own way. The Government told the King that his plans for marriage were unacceptable, this was backed by the Archbishop of Westminster as leader of the Anglican Faith to the Head of that church, and he then had to decide: either give up Mrs. Simpson, whose figurative tentacles were wrapped around his penis; or Abdicate.

As everyone knows, he chose Wallis, and Abdication, over a Crown and a Nation whose very image of the playboy King had been so rudely, and abruptly, broken into shards and dust! He made great play of the ‘fact’ that his brother, the Duke of York, had received the training and education to enable him to receive the Crown on his shoulders instead of the man who was jacking it all in because he could not have his own way. The deep hatred which sat in the heart and mind of Elizabeth, George Sixth’s Duchess and now, of course, his future Queen towards the woman who, in her own mind, had persuaded Edward to betray his country was everlasting, bitter and subsuming. She flatly refused to meet or receive her enemy, now of course her sister-in-law, she refused to even countenance the attribution, normal to her station in life of ‘Her Royal Highness’, and of course so coveted by Edward, now Duke of Windsor, and that deep hatred lasted her own long life. When her husband, George the Sixth, died, she allowed the Duke of Windsor to be invited to attend the funeral, but pointedly, the Duchess was not mentioned.

But times change, and memories mellow. As the Queen celebrates her Seventieth Anniversary, it is notable that her Uncle David’s portrait has been hung in the National Portrait Gallery, albeit pictured in uniform when in service during WW1; an omission which was notable for many, many years. The Queen’s own mother would probably have burned the painting, rather than ever have it displayed during her lifetime, as she blamed the abdication for her own beloved husband’s early death through taking on the Monarchy instead of being allowed to be ‘the Spare’.