Showing posts with label Tory England. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tory England. Show all posts

Monday, 31 August 2009

That last refuge in the shires

By Sarah: Maid of Albion

Some have asked why I called my last post "A letter to Tory England". I did so, because it is aimed at those living in the villages and Market Towns of so called “Middle England” and because they are primarily white and primarily they vote for the Conservative party. Yes, there are Labour voters in the countryside, as there are Tories in the cities, however, if one were to strip away the large urban areas of Britain (dream on) and leave only those parts of it I am addressing there would a huge and permanent Tory majority, at least there would be until everything begins to crumble.

The “Tory England” in my earlier post has not yet suffered as a result of immigration to anything like the same degree as the rest of the country. The only immigrants who have ventured into the countryside in any great numbers have been the Eastern Europeans, such as Poles and Lithuanians, who are largely inoffensive and are more likely to integrate into an area rather than causing the area to adapt to suit them, although that may be changing with the arrival of those whom the media like to call “Romanians”.

Also, as they are white, unless one speaks to them, which can be avoided reasonably easily, it is even possible to pretend they are not immigrants at all. In any event those who are likely to be in competition with them for low paid jobs probably don't vote Tory.

On the other hand. most third world immigrants do not tend to be country lovers and have so far gravitated to the large cities and urban areas where they already have established communities, and, of course, there are larger stocks of public housing. In reality the only time you will see a black person in the countryside is in a dairy product commercial on the TV, in order to provide the requisite diversity before rushing back to the city as soon as the camera stops rolling.

Asian business is starting to make an appearance in the shire towns, in the form of curry restaurants, Asian shops or small businesses, and, even in the shire towns overseas qualified doctors are cutting swathes through the elderly population. However, these towns and villages are still massively white, and what diversity there is, is of a level most of us could live with, if we didn't all know where it inevitably leads.

That will not last of course, for a start the fanatics who run our country will not allow that sort of segregation to continue and they will find ways of importing diversity to the shires, but that campaign hasn't started yet, and so far the shires still provide a temporary refuge from what is to come.

Until the inevitable end does come, that flaw in the English character which would rather not make a fuss takes control, and whilst they do not have to confront a problem it is easier to ignore it. I don't think they are “Blissfully unaware of the problem”, as a correspondent at my own blog asked, after all many will have moved away from the urban areas because of the problem, but whilst they can't see it, it is easier not to think about it. Also, if they rely on the mainstream media they will know very little about what is really going on.

Some may even believe that mass third world immigration is a good thing and greet it with pompom waving enthusiasm in the way that only an ideological fanatic or one who is not forced live with its results can do. Some welcome it because they profit handsomely from it but they are a small cynical minority, The other 90% would rather not take a stand on a subject like immigration for the single reason that like most of Britain they have been cowed into obedience by the “R” word. They were conned into believing that talk of “Immigration” made the Tories the “nasty party”, a devastatingly clever trick which still effects Tory party thinking today.

I have never voted Tory, but I know how Tories think. It is because of that word, and because they do not yet have to confront the consequences of the greatest betrayal our nation has ever seen, they can contemplate voting for a man who would sack any member of his team expressing support for that great and rare Tory, Enoch Powell's views on immigration. This despite the fact that, within a generation from now, when Tory England has finally suffered the results of their actions, as they surely will, a Tory voter who does not support Powell's views on immigration will be a rarity indeed.

Of course, then it will be too late, and there will be no satisfaction in saying they got what they deserved, because we will all have paid the price.

Sunday, 30 August 2009

A letter to Tory England

By Sarah: Maid of Albion

I visited where you live this week. I took the train from Marylebone and travelled away from London through stations with names like Seer Green, Gerrard's Cross and Beaconsfield, and I watched the world around me change, becoming something I once remembered it to be. I know where you live very well, as it is where I come from, but ts a different world to where I live now, yet for how much longer?

The air is fresher where you live, the land is cleaner, prettier, older and when I visit I find I still can hope.

As I travelled through station after station not only the landscape and air began to change but so did the people, they became whiter, and seemed more at one with their world than those where I had left that morning. They seemed, more relaxed, more confident and certainly more friendly and I knew why, for they are English, this was still England and it felt as if it would last forever.

I left the train and walked through your world, past tea shops, antique markets, estate agents and village greens to the two hundred year old church where I joined those who had come to celebrate and bury a much loved old Englishman. As I looked around the church at the sea of white faces and heard them sing the hymns that Englishmen have sung for hundreds of years, I felt again that this was England and that it could last forever.

Yet, it is deceptive where you live, it is somewhere you can pretend what's happening isn't and can feel that all is well whilst still knowing deep down that it is not.

Not everyone there is white, there are some black and brown faces in Tory England, but only enough to add interest and a hint of the exotic, they are not amongst you in sufficient numbers to overwhelm or frighten you, or change the face of where you live forever, well not yet anyway.

Where you live multiculturalism can seem to mean little more than having easier access to chickpeas and couscous while watching that nice George Alagiah read you the news in the evening. It does not yet mean social decay, gang crime, gang rape and that crushing sense of alienation within your homeland which has become the lot of so many of your not so far away urban brothers. To you, ethnic mixing means Jemima Goldsmith in a designer Shalwar Kameez divorcing Imran Khan and still remaining a social princess, not a battered, hollow eyed white girl condemned to grinding welfare with an ochre coloured child in a borrowed stroller.

Those changes will come, but they have not quite reached you yet.

Maybe you really believe that it never will or that there still will be enough leafy glades and white avenue ghettos to outlast your grandchildren, provided that is they can cope with the commute.

Whilst you don't have to see the destruction or have to live amongst it you pretend it isn't there or believe the politicians who speak of urban enrichment. Those of you who work in town, need only bury your heads more deeply in your paper whilst the train carrying you to the still largely white financial heart of the city hurtles through those failed but fast expanding experiments like Ruislip, Neesden, New Cross and East Croydon. Yet, how much longer can you ignore them?, for they exist and are coming your way.

Others once felt like you, at other time and in other places, Malaya in the years before the war, the white highlands of Kenya in the 1950's or the white cockney East End of London must have once felt permanent, secure and as if they would be there forever, but they are gone, and will never come back. You live in that same dusk, but there is only so long that you can ignore the darkness to come.

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After the funeral I mingled amongst the guests and mourners drinking Earl Grey tea and eating egg or cucumber sandwiches. The widow, a dying breed of lady, greeted me as “Darling” and and I marvelled at the beauty which so many seventy year old English woman of her type possess. It was beauty she had passed on to her lovely grandsons, charming, handsome young white men, one in the army, another a doctor, married to white women who don't yet see the need to dress as trash.

Do they know what they have lost, what has been stolen from them and their children, does their delightful grandmother know that the land of her birth is no more? If they do, they will not say so, as if, like the wolf at the door, to acknowledge it is there means it will finally come in.

That is the problem with where you live, it is an illusion, and one which is rapidly fading. With luck some parts of it may last another fifty years, but you have signed away your home by pretending it will last forever and ignoring the truth which is rushing your way.

Are you blind, are you foolish or just too afraid, for when night falls on Tory England where will you go?

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When it came time for me to leave, I did not want to. I wanted so much to stay in the comfortable fantasy world you live in, where everything was familiar and I could pretend that England still existed and would be there for ever. I understand why you live there, why you choose to ignore reality while you still can, but it is just a dream.

When I left you I wondered if you would still be there when I returned, I could not be sure, for, if you continue to ignore the truth, as you do now, you will not be there forever.

-/-