So your local elections are this week. Did you know that? If you live in one of our tautological “Shire Counties” it is time for you to go down to your nearest little church and pop your little bit of cardboard into the little box.
Left wing ponce that I am, living in a no-nonsense Tory stronghold as I do, I find it hard to get involved. I have become jaded; a pale, pitiful spectre of the righteous dissenter I once thought I was. As my peers relentlessly elected fraudsters and charlatans to man the proverbial helm, I found myself cast off, drowning in the churning sea of futility. And my fury sank, without a trace. Apathy surfaced to replace my waning vitriol; I unwittingly concerned myself with more vital ruminations. Like whether I could muster the inclination to make my sandwiches for work or whether I was going to continue to watch You’ve Been Framed. A You-Tube gag reel without the effort. Somebody else even laughs for you. Though frankly, the commercials are a more constructive violation. This is, I admit, unrelated.
A wise man once said that satisfaction is the death of desire, but so is isolation. In truth, I don’t care which guilty little creep gets to ride on the sordid carousel of corruption any more. The beige pantomime. So I don’t vote. Especially when You’ve Been Framed is on.
As the foreign legions amass on our shores, there is a strong possibility that the clandestine racists among you may succumb to your more visceral impulses and hand increased opportunity to UKIP and the BNP. This is unfortunate. A cackling horde of bigots are donning their sheep’s clothing right now, in this very moment as you and I speak. It is vital that you stay vigilant. Maintain your moral fortitude. If you lower your guard for an instant, the savage right hook of platitude and half-truth will get you. Right in the chops. Cop that, motherfucker. Finding it hard to make ends meet? That’s because there are too many foreigners over here. An unwelcome encumbrance on our ailing economy. Swarthy little goblin-men syphoning our cash back to Iberia and the Balkans and taking advantage of our derelict migration laws. Graceless ingrates undermining our hospitality and TAKING ALL THE JOBS.
You heard that before? I have. This is the seed, it has been planted and the shit has already been spread. In the insincerest of assaults, the aspiring Fourth Reich have succeeded in supplanting the mutual ethos of resilient working-class pride; of toil and graft, of community. Engendering in it’s place, a philosophy of resentment, tribalism and belligerent prejudice. A sinister ideology of blame and unreason has permeated within the weave of our social fabric as the indignant unwashed of Britain take to their soapboxes to air their perceived grievances. And our mainland brothers and sisters are their scapegoats, the victimised new-kids in someone else’s playground.
Yet as tick surely follows tock, these brainwashed spokesmen will balk at the acrid ladle-full of karmic irony they are due. As yesterday’s workmen become today’s orators, who will keep the cogs of industry turning? Who will man the grindstone? I’ll tell you who. Attila the fucking Hun and his Bulgarian comrades. That’s who. And they’ll do a better job than Johnny English.
So is our infrastructure unable to deal with the swell? Maybe it is. Maybe this is the case. Why? Is our economy too insular? Too isolated? What’s the answer? UKIP’s mandatory and primary policy is a comprehensive and immediate withdrawal from the European Union. That is their ideal solution to our fiscal sequestration. Stop them coming here. Close the borders. Which, apart from anything else, makes your holiday to Mallorca (or Tuscany if the Balearics aren’t your cup of Bovril) a bit more vexing.
Furthermore, we have seven and a half million residents in this country who were born on the outside of our tiny atoll’s watery borders. There are two and a half million people out of work with one and a half million of those claiming the dole. Even if every single active or inactive “job seeker” in this country was a foreigner that would leave no less than five million people in work here who were born elsewhere. So…. if they were all dislodged who would address that shortfall? Are there legions of starving British doctors on the breadline? Disenfranchised but ready, ready to fill the void when of all the Indian ones are banished? And what about the construction industry? Are there droves of fit and able-bodied young men ready to vitalise the building trade, ready to build homes for their own families? I could continue but the answer is no. No there isn’t. It’s that simple.
Last year I accepted employment as a hospital cleaner. It is something like the tenth job I’ve had in as many years. I am Bukowski’s factotum. Everybody’s Bukowski right? The job is not that bad, I can do it, I suppose. The point is, within my department I am probably outnumbered as an Englishman. I still sit within the largest slice of pie but it is a plurality, not a majority. The men and women I share my daylight with are you and I. They are us. There is no them. They are just as entitled to use this land as you are. The lottery of nativity has given them a different coloured passport but the proximity of their home to yours would make you neighbours in North America. The bigger picture is right in front of you. So take a step back and consider this: we don’t have a choice. It is our (mine and your) moral obligation to make our society work as a shared one. The legacy of our ancestor’s Imperialism dictates who we are; it’s as inevitable as it is irreversible. This is who we are and it is who we always have been. UKIP can no more close our borders than they can resolve our pecuniary pickle. They are a vulgar assemblage of braying cowards and intellectual nobodies whose conceit is matched only by the hypocrisy of their lamentations. They are not an option for any proud Briton and they never will be.
So don’t let your guard down yeah?