Mike James — Feb 26, 2014
The economic and social pain suffered by the British and Irish peoples is intolerable. For centuries we have been deemed nothing more as mere chattels of the Internationalist, Globalist British Crown, now itself subject to a sprawling anti-Celtic European Union bureaucracy.
I write from Germany, Berlin, the centre of the New Holy Roman Empire, and I am enraged that my own kith and kin find it not within themselves to rekindle the fire of rebellion that caused marauders from distant shores to flee in terror from the wrath of the Picts, the Scots, the Irish, the Cornish and the fighting English.
History tells us that we were always despised by Europeans. They took our land and raped our women, but our pride was inviolable. And the vengeance we exacted was formidable; for when the Celtic peoples of the British Isles (including Ireland) were attacked by armadas or by vicious men in longboats, outnumbered and bereft of all hope as we were, we fought like lions, fledgling cubs howling against the winds of violence, and, by the miracle of our Celtic genetic superiority, we won.
That we must destroy the European Union, by violence if necessary, is a no-brainer. But that very few of us can grasp the fundamentally crucial role of the British Crown System of government in its arrogantly flippant betrayal of our peoples, serving as it does, since the so-called “Glorious Revolution”, only the interests of the City of London, the International Banking Scamsters who have yet to hang from every bridge and lamppost lovingly created by artisans who cared about their own people, is somewhat beyond me.
Forget the Windsors. The British Crown, only an administrative construct that prevails over all territories designated as possessions of the “United Kingdom” would happily survive in its thefts and impositions without such clowns. Every charade paraded as a “truth” in the eyes of good and decent, yet gullible, citizens, requires a jester. The Windsors have proven themselves to be amongst the most artful of court jesters to the Inviolable Holiness of international banking while concomitantly beguiling my own people with their superfluous displays of virtuosity and occasional forays into the Netherlands of mediated soap opera: tears, laughs, tragedies and all.
What fools we are. We Brits never learned to put away the toys of our childhood and grow up to become fearsomely independent men and women. This is how they conditioned and programmed us from birth.
When I first moved to Berlin, my new apartment came replete with an old television set. The treacherous bastard brings the BBC World Service right into my living room. Imagine, as I am, a man who left England in 1992, the sheer abhorrence with which I almost puked at the illiteracy of broadcasters, mostly Wogs or Pakis, who speak in an accent I believe is known as “Thames Valley”.
Are these my people? From which tree in the furthermost reaches of the Congo or the deepest recesses of Bangladeshi sewers did these non-Celtic people emerge? Are they citizens of my nation or simply green-card holders to be deported once they have proven themselves to be nothing more than culture-change agents? Why have none of them been arrested for propagating anti-British slurs?
“We provide new insights on an ever-changing international landscape,” they say. No landscape requires an “insight”, only a perspective. Where the fuck were these people educated? I shall tell you: in Britain, at the expense of the ordinary working man and woman who is screwed by the British Crown Inland Revenue for every penny they have earned by the sweat of their brows.
During my formative years, anti-establishment though I was, I became increasingly aware of the influence of Globalist culture-change agents who subtly spread anti-English, anti-Celtic propaganda by means of the printed press, radio and television media. It was so very Tavistock. It was never meant to shock, but simply impart in the minds of the gullible memes that would take seed and sow among my people a way of thinking alien to all of our traditional Christian values. And it has worked.
Globalism. The Brotherhood of Man. The Loving Surveillance State and the Soviet European Union run by diktat from Berlin.
“I’d like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company …. blah, blah, blah.”
Hippies and their unwitting collusion with Big Business were the curse of the post-modern age, harbingers of cultural destruction and the purveyors of the sort of filth that we now accept as “normal”. Who led them? Abbie Hoffman, Daniel Cohn-Bendit, Allen Ginsberg. The tribe.
Now let me not cast aspersions, for, as all of my readers know, I am not one to throw stones. I choose bricks, or, if I feel strong enough, entire slabs of pavement. Yet I shall not speak out against any Jew, such as my long-gone pal, Bernhard, who was honest enough to confess that the “Holocaust” was a fabrication and that Zionism is not only the enemy of Jews but also the bane of humanity: indeed, such a man is my friend in Truth.
In fact, many sincere Jews exposed what was later to become known as the Aquarian Conspiracy: http://www.biblebelievers.org.au/aquarian.htm
Larouche, a controversial former Democratic presidential candidate, was among the first to expose British and American “youth friendly” agents (such as Timothy Leary) as free-licensed distributors of LSD, hash, heroin, Israeli-manufactured “ecstasy” and other psychedelics to young and healthy people who had fallen for the lie of “free love” and the decadence promoted by the Social Change Planners of the 60s and 70s.
It has all passed us by. Too cool to chill, too hot to handle. But the musical, media, and drug-associated assault on your mind continues; it is unremitting. When you become addicted or can no longer handle the dystopian world within which we live, no problem. Big Pharma has scammed almost every physician into believing that SSRI antidepressants will make you feel better. Welcome to the new “You”: whacked out, hyper-hungry, supremely suicidal, fantastically aggressive. How many folks can you kill with a bog-standard assault rifle in ten minutes before blowing your own brains out?
“Thanks, Doc. Ate three pizzas for breakfast and killed my wife and kids. Gimme more Paxil and throw some Zoloft into the mix. Gotta murder God, drown my best friend, blow a bank, travel to Mars and then come back and rape your wife. Sounds cool, huh?”
“Sure, glad to see the medication has worked. I’ll add some Prozac to your prescription. Will be glad to see the back of my mother-in-law.”
Back to the BBC World Service. Message: “You Europeans must give Third-Worlders more cash, otherwise you shall burn in hell.”
Thanks for the tip, Al-Malhati-Hate-U-Brits, but, like many of my own kind, I am a fucking hungry third-worlder living in the allegedly richest state in Europe and I absolutely refuse to feel guilty for a bunch of lazy monkeys who are dumb enough to live in prefabs close to a river and on an earthquake fault-line.
Crying children whose eyes are smitten by flies. Absolutely shocking, and my heart bleeds. Really, truly (not). But what about the wasted homeless girl who sits outside of my local supermarket? What about the 70,000 homeless folks who must seek shelter and warmth in Berlin? What about my parents and other elderly relatives in Britain who have paid into the system for years and are trounced on the NHS waiting list by English-hating gorillas for life-saving operations?
What about you, Mrs Malhati-Hate-U-Brits? (Or should I say “Miz” or “Ms” to be politically correct?) Why not take the entire BBC World Service, stick it up your pampered Asiatic asshole, pray to Shiva and pull out a thousand chickens to feed those whom you so remarkably resemble? And why not simply fuck off back to whence you came and give your job to an attractive and intelligent British lass?
I am sick to death of having folks regard me as inferior because I am white. Within just 20 years, our kind will represent nothing more than eight-percent of the world’s population, and, yet, as a minority, we shall always be despised. Why? What is it about we Celts that the Controllers fear so much?
Place not one single finger on an immigrant, for he too is a child of God. Target the real criminals: your so-called representatives, whether Labour, Tory or Liberal Democrats. Be smart and don’t get caught. Deal with them as you wish. You know the score.
I am returning to Britain within two years and I want my country back. I shall not tolerate any impositions on freedom of speech or the denial of social services to Britons who have worked hard all of their lives, only to see themselves treated with utter contempt by a British Crown-EU system of government that deigns them to be far less deserving than a horde of camel traders who arrived with nothing more than a crate of bananas, twelve wives in tow, a gang of potential criminal children and an outstretched hand.
The fight is on. It has nothing to do with parliamentary elections. Forget democracy, for it is a lie. It is about you, your family, your kids, your culture, your future and your ability to put food on the table and assure yourself that you live in a secure and God-blessed society, free of Globalism, free of the curse of rampant Americanism, Zionism and the Soviet European Union.
Cameron, as a committed member of Common Purpose is a liar:
I would like to provide more links and extend my list of references concerning the bastards who are members of CP, but, having no personal computer or internet connection, time and money is of the essence, and I’m bloody, sodding hungry.
Never, ever trust your vote to any of the establishment parties. Should a Labour, Tory or Liberal Democrat assail you with a leaflet, be a Brit, break his nose and report him to the police as a swindler.
The last BBC documentary I saw broke my heart. The wog commentator and presenter showed me a Britain and an Ireland that I never knew. I learned that over a third of Londoners are foreign; that our once naturally beautiful Scottish women are the most obese in Europe; that unemployed British and Irish middle-aged men are more likely to take their own lives than any of their compatriots outside of America.
This must change. This will change.
You are a special people, real human beings, not, like the German people, robotic slaves. Each and every day you awake, you are free to make a decision controlled by no politician, no bureaucrat. It is YOUR life.
You are a Scot, an Irishman, a Cornwellian, an Englishman, a Welshman: a Briton distinctly separate from any other European race other than the Basques (of which our common ancestry I have written about in great detail and of which I hope my publisher links right here:).
Never, ever forget that. You are unique and divinely blessed.
You are not European. You are not Saxons. You are not slaves, but Freeborn men and women, chosen and loved by a God you have abandoned but who has never forgotten you and awaits your return to his home as a father who yearns for those he has lost.
You, the Celtic Folk of the British Isles, were the stuff of mythology long told to pre-Asiatics, fledgling Hebrews, the early Buddhists, the Ancient Greeks, the incipients of Roman anti-culture, the Shamans and the trappists holed-up in the coldest of Himalayan enclaves. You were known and chosen before the very foundations of this world.
You have been beguiled by democracy. You have been robbed and suffer terribly from the angst of poverty in your elderly years and your inability to feed your children or even heat your home.
You were born to be Rebellious Fighting Celts, not consumers of American Junk, European Union regulations and Globalist garbage.
You are my people, and I love you. And for this reason, perhaps without a cent in my pocket, the prospect of homelessness, and all I can pack in a British Infantry rucksack, I am coming home, removing myself from an anti-Celtic Teutonic race that, once again, seeks to dominate and control the world, this time by means of economic warfare.
I am no leader, but the weakest of the weak, the frailest of the frail. I can only witness, advise. To be honest, I really do not think I shall be around in two years, for the Germans starve the hungry, besmirch the poor, deny basic medications to those most in need. The health system in Germany is brutal and Himmleresque in nature.
In Britain, the victory over poverty, fear, exploitation, financial oppression, overweening bureaucracy, sadness and foreign occupation that we shall achieve will be yours, and yours alone. I truly believe in you. I am utterly besotted, infatuated and in love with you. All of my fellow Britons and Irish brethren.
I was only a kid when I fell in love with Akela, and, when I ceased to be a Sixer, I rapidly became a triple-Scotch Six-a-Nighter. But it brought me closer to those who had nowt, lived from one day to the next without ever knowing how they would survive. Scots, Irishmen, Mancunians, Scousers, Lankies, Brummies, Geordies, Yorkies, Bristolians, and even Toffs fallen on hard times. They were and shall always remain MY people.
I remember, back in 1985, watching a bag-lady on the Tottenham Court Road fleeing from a gang of Yuppies high on champagne and I was close to pulling a knife on them, for they meant to kill her “for shits, kicks and giggles”. As a youngster in Whickham I saw kids living on nothing more than cornflakes and water. On the sand dunes of Lytham St. Annes I soothed the wounds of a beautiful green-eyed girl whose face regularly took the full impact of an enraged father who did not know how to hold his Scotch.
I saw kids in the slums of Nairobi die of malnutrition or from wounds inflicted by the paramilitary GSU. I have seen more than I ever want to see in a million lives.
But what I feel in my heart is the anguished pain of an extraordinarily confused British people, my own flesh and blood. Your despair is mine. We are all related by blood, and from the very stones beneath which those of us who were sorrowfully dispatched, our blood screams out in a rage piercing a million dimensions.
Fuck the Windsors. Fuck the politicians. Fuck the European Union.
In the name of God, unsheathe from an irreproachable rock that exquisitely adorned sword from the Lake of Despondency and reclaim your right to be honoured among the human races as the First Among Equals.
You are neither scheming, socialistic bureaucratic Europeans nor fat-as-fuck Americans. You are lean, mean and hungry Englishmen who intend to take their nation back. I know you, you bastards. You busted my nose and blackened my eyes. Though I was weak and perilously skinny, I fought each and every one of you twats until my knuckles were raw and I went down on my knees as a wee Geordie lad (in a Lancastrian school) whose father told him never to surrender his ground to bullies.Then I forgave you. For I was you and you became me.
No Briton was born to submit.
For every Englishman is a King; every Englishwoman a Queen.
Time to reclaim your throne and sharpen that regal sword. We have a war to fight, and no prisoners shall you take.