While England Slept
The kindred spirits of AlbionBeing of mature years I would like to reminisce about the good old days; if you will bear with me.
As a youngster in the early 1930’s when shopping with my mother along the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells I never saw signs in shop windows warning, No Dogs, No Smoking, No Food and No Spitting, which was a pity as these signs couldn’t have come soon enough, unless of course you were a dog, a smoker, a compulsive eater or a very anti social person.
What about CCTV I hear you ask? Well that was not a problem either because there weren’t any. We were quite a few years away from declaring war on Germany too.
So what has changed? Well in actual fact quite a lot. When these aforementioned signs were unnoticed by their absence, it was a heady time for one and all, and for the ordinary peasant classes it was a simple and uncluttered time, particularly when filling out Government forms.
One did not have to scroll through a list of about 200 foreign tongues, some I am sure have ceased to exist; I am thinking of Tibetan here, to explain to peoples of 200 different ethnic origins and wonderful gentle cultures that perfectly balance our own, on how to fill in official forms, and secondly and most importantly one did not have to search frantically to ascertain whether or not ones own language had also been included.
I wish that was the only irritation but its not. For fear of being labeled a racist I must admit I do feel rather insignificant in my own country today when my leaders tell me that the person who is sitting next to me on the bus whose ancestral homelands I can only quietly assume originate from the dark continent; Pygmies, Hottentots and Zulu Warriors spring easily to mind here, is that they are as British as I am.
Was this person that I was sharing a seat with on the No 22 bus until quite recently standing on one leg, barely clothed, with his weight on a spear and shading his eyes in the heat of the African sun scanning the shimmering horizon for some wildlife tit-bit to bring down for dinner, to succour him and his immediate tribe? So I ask, is he as British as I? I suppose Tesco’s must have been one hell of a culture shock for him.
So I wonder where MY homeland is. Who are MY people? Can I only associate or whisper furtively with people who I suspect are kindred spirits; people of MY tribe, who look just like me, without fear of being accused of being a closet racist?
For a once proud people the English are a race without a homeland. During the birthing pangs of Die Eurolandz und vahrend die peoples auf die Anglo Saxon origin geschlafen, England was quietly deleted from the area known as the British Isles or The ‘United’ Kingdom as it was known then, and disunited by our politicians on orders of Die Uber Meisters in Die Eurolandz, in exchange for a number of regions. In retrospect I don’t recollect that anyone was asked if they were happy with this cozy arrangement or worse still even aware it had taken place.
One thing you can be sure of is the English peasant classes are going to be mighty upset when they awaken from their long slumber to find their homeland has ceased to exist and that all correspondence or inquiries relating to a place once called England has now, on orders from Die Fuhrer in Die Vaterland, to be redirected to a piddling Belgium city called Brussels,
….thinks….I must Google England sometime to see if it has been removed from the history books.
I am aware our loyal Scottish Prime Minister, whose name escapes me for the moment, never mentions the word England, so perhaps it doesn’t exist, which is a real pity. Do we still need a Queen now that we have lost our country, our sovereignty and are in real danger of losing our constitution?
Albion
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