Strange thing depression. The wind is blowing and the rain pouring down, there is some food in the fridge and cans in the cupboard and I am warm. What more can a man ask for? Well his country back for a start.
Let's go for a walk. Up later than usual, after staying up late (2300) and reading some of the chat going on over on the Unofficial British National Party chat room, where there is a general air of depression over the news that the government has ignored the wishes of the people and overturned an elected councils decision to refuse planning permission for a huge Mega Mosque in Dudley, I find that the depression from the previous day has been carried over to this morning.
Soon, the people of Dudley and visitors to Dudley Castle will be able to look up at a towering minaret from where there will be calls to prayer echoing over the town and will have a visible sign that their government has betrayed them and "Submitted" to the followers of a Dead Paedophile - no not Michael Jackson fans. The pervert Mohammed's zombies.
I attempt to cheer myself by remembering images of crashing chimneys brought down by the steeplejack Fred Dibnah and attempt to convince myself that one day I will be watching images of these Golden Symbols of Domination fall in the same way but that does not help.
Because I read of the death of another soldier in Afghanistan and think that somewhere there is another British Mother crying, whilst her family sit silently around her. Nothing they can say will help or bring that soldier back.
And I am reminded of the portrait above of Doctor Brydon arriving at Jellalabad, the last survivor of an army from the First Afghan War (Please read). And I think, will that be the end for Our Boys out there?
Eventually our Dhimmi government will have to cut a deal and then we will be allowed to pull-out claiming a moral victory but you and I will know that we will leave with our tails between our legs.
And I cannot help but think how I would feel if there were foreign soldiers patrolling the streets of Great Britain. I would not be well pleased and would probably find common cause with anyone or any party that sought to drive them from my land.
And soon though we will have "foreign soldiers" on our streets - the European Army will be here for training purposes or so they will say but we will know the real reason for their presence and Our Soldiers will be overseas fighting and occupied in another illegal and engineered war.
Already our treasonous government has put foreign police on our streets as visible reminders that we are now in a process of submission.
And I despair at the thoughts of the sheep people who continue to vote for the Lib/Lab/con alliance and I realise that we are not reaching them quick enough. I also realise that they will never read the British National Party website and they will most certainly never read this article. Already they have forgotten all the scandals, fraud, corruption and criminality of The Establishment - either that or they are just too stupid to care. Sheep who deserve to be slaughtered.
And I look at my online Vodafone account and see that the bill is even higher than last month and I realise again I will probably have to count on the repeated generosity of my kinsmen to keep going and I think "Why Bother?", "I can stop this drain and pain now -today".
My family die young. I have already outlived a younger brother and numerous younger cousins. The invaders will not reach my part of the world for at least ten years so why not say bollox to the sheep people and go have some peace and a life again.
Let the sheep people get what they deserve. Let the stupid brain dead liberals and the zombies of the LGBT and UAF get a taste of Islam at Work. It is what they want. If they wish to self mutilate themselves, let them. Why should I care? I tried, along with all my kinsmen to warn them. So why don't I just go and long live the new Green Arrow.
Because I read something like the following from an account of the First Afghan War
And I realise that I could not live with myself if I were to turn my back on my nationalist comrades and kinsmen. And there in lies the rub. For they feel the same way and so we continue to fight and either win or die together. Because Kosovo is coming. You can trust me on that one.
Among the 1,000 British and Indian dead were 286 men of the Martini-armed 66th (Berkshire) Regiment, who made a last stand in a walled garden in the village of Khig. When only two officers and nine men of the 66th remained alive, they charged the hordes of tribesmen surrounding them.
An Afghan witness described the end: "These men charged from the shelter of a garden and died with their faces to the enemy. So fierce was their charge, and so brave their actions, no Afghan dared approach to cut them down. Standing in the open, back to back, firing steadily, every shot counting, surrounded by thousands, these British soldiers died. It was not until the last man was shot down that the Afghans dared to advance. The behaviour of those last 11 was the wonder of all who saw it."