The England I Love, And Shall Forever Love
By Mike James in Germany – 26 February 2010
While the British people are being led by their easily-tweaked noses into yet another sham general election in which the choice they make is severely circumscribed by an evil system of usury and the prospect of no change in the circumstances of a people befuddled by decades of sinister, police-state, Tavistock Institute conditioning, almost nobody is asking:
“For how much longer must we tolerate living in a nation beholden to only special interest groups, International Jewish Finance, a “Punch & Judy” show behind which the British Crown’s servitude to The City of London has prostituted Britons to a life of indentured class-riddled servitude and without a chance in hell of extricating ourselves from the demonic Soviet European Union?”
The problem lies in the constitutional make-up of the United Kingdom, an administrative construct that serves only the obscenely rich and parasitic classes, and which treats its ‘subject-citizens’ as mere chattels of the Crown, now nothing more than a pimping agency for the Brussels’ elites who see in the English, Scots and Welsh nothing more than stupefied ‘white trash’ to be cash-raped whenever a French bureaucrat feels the need for an inflationary orgasm.
No doubt the Scots and Welsh will soon enough secede from the now increasingly irrelevant United Kingdom and go their own way, choosing instead to scrounge vast subsidies from the European Union (the long-suffering and equally impoverished German taxpayer) instead of the equally bamboozled, ripped-off English working and middle classes. I encourage them to do so. And I wish them well.
Shorn of our obligations to Scotland and Wales, the time is ripe for a New English Dispensation. I speak not of a ‘Little England’ adrift as a minor province in the new world order of international finance and the arbitrary dictates of the European Union and the United Nations, but of a resurgently vigorous and proudly free egalitarian republican England.
We, as ordinary Englishmen always tolerated the overbearing arrogance of those who deemed themselves our social superiors by dint of birth; for despite their supercilious arrogance and chinless lack of intelligence, they, the intellectually retarded toffs educated at Eton and Rugby, at least provided us with a buffer against the inclinations of international socialist traitors (such as the Jewish-Nazi Fifth-Columnist David Miliband) to sell out The Rights of Englishmen.
They served their purpose, made their stash and fucked off while the going was good. All they have left us with is a family of intellectually diminutive social parasites who belittle us with their fantasises of ‘royalty’ and a political kleptocracy dominated by treasonous system parties, whether Labour, Conservative or Liberal-Democrat.
The Windsors were never one of our own kind. Held in thrall by the Money Power that came to dominate British commerce in the wake of the so-called ‘Glorious Revolution’, a coup d’etat of the super-rich landed gentry against a monarchical system that was highly critical of illegal Judaic banking practices, the dim-witted spawn of sodomised, public-school educated sub-humans who set themselves above the inherent intellectual superiority of the English working classes were able to somehow convince good-natured patriots that they were not the vermin prodigy of the syphilitic Rothschild spermatozoa.
We, my gentle fellow Englishman, good-hearted and magnanimously trusting souls that we are, have been taken for fools. We always gave our masters the benefit of the doubt. We willingly sacrificed the lives of our children upon the altar of their blood-lust for greed, profit and power.
Now, my friend, where do you find yourself? Is England a place called ‘home’; and if this be home, do you kindle by the fading light of day a candle within the heart of your being knowing that the light that warms your heart is of a constancy that cannot be expunged by the forces of darkness?
I have watched you from afar for the 17 years I have lived in Germany and I cry for you. I have seen you sink into an alcohol and drug-fuelled culture of sleaze, decadence, pornography, pop trivia and casual violence: submerged in a tidal wave of mass immigration and political correctness.
I have witnessed how you lost your senses and grew obese on the promises of easy credit and gorged yourself upon cheap, mind-numbing entertainment, abandoning your higher intellectual values and the ingrained moral integrity that was yours as of right as a freeborn-Englishman to a corporate parasitic system that pandered to your ever-growing addiction for instant gratification.
I remember you as children, as teenagers and as young adults. You were never saints, and God forbid that you could ever be so, for it was always in your nature to be natural rebels. I loved you. I fought you. You broke my heart, pummelled me to the ground, caused me to graze my knees, opened old wounds and left me broken and bloodied. Yet you lifted me to my feet and gave me hope. Your wit and your laughter raised my spirits to the roof-beams. You were a race of tough, uncompromising and yet passionately forgiving men and women.
I cry for the England that was lost. Yet I cry more for the England that can be regained should only a handful of brave men and women stand up and fight, but of whom there is little to bespeak.
I have travelled the world and seen things that few would care to experience. I have ventured into unknown terrain and have been afforded opportunities far beyond what I could ever have possibly envisaged on the soil of my birth.
Yet I yearn to return to my homeland. My England.
I was raised a Geordie, born on the banks of the River Tyne in Jarrow in 1959 among a caring and gentle folk and raised, some six years later on the western shores of fierce and fighting Lancashire. By the time I reached the age of 25, I had visited and worked in every nook and cranny of that blessed, any yet sadly accursed land: The Fylde, London, Dorset, Bristol, Oxfordshire, Yorkshire, Southampton, Norfolk, Manchester, Essex, Weymouth, Blackpool, Cumbria, Humberside, Durham, Kent, Devon and a myriad of villages and hamlets that are to me now simply names obscured by the mists that enclosed the pastures I spied upon each and every waking morning.
England in the 1980s had its faults. But I was free. Free to hate, with compassion, or to love, with abandon. Free to sport a black-eye for my sins or awake with lipstick on my cheeks for my charms. Free to be what God Almighty awarded me as the most cherished lottery ticket in life: a natural-born rebellious Englishman.
I want that England back again.
An England free of the impositions of the Soviet European Union, the all-watching surveillance police-state, the deception and charade of ‘democracy’ and the two-party (one-party) system, the sickening and demeaning worship of celebrities and the imbecilic ‘royal’ family, the stranglehold of international usury and the corrupt banking system, the media-enforced obeisance to the secular religion of multiculturalism, and the all-pervasive hopelessness of a people born in God’s Chosen Land whose urgent wish is to hurriedly leave for distant shores all that was bequeathed to them as of right.
You think I sit alone in Germany and have forgotten all that was honourable and decent from the land from whence I hailed? No, my fellow compatriots, I think of you constantly; sometimes with pity and remorse, and yet more often with disgust for the level to which you have allowed yourselves to descend.
At the next general election you will vote for either Cameron-Brown or Brown-Cameron. Most of you, I hope, will stay at home and demonstrate your contempt for democracy. Nothing will ever change. There is not one ounce of national revolutionary blood left in the veins of the Greatest Race that ever lived. Why is it that My People have become so comfortably numb?
You truly are the scum of the earth: the most gullible and naive of all the European races. Now it is my desire to leave the European Union altogether.
I fought. I was arrested, sectioned, imprisoned. I made a stand. You didn’t. And I therefore give up on you.
But I still love you, and always will.
So just shout.
And I’ll be there for you.
Michael James, an English patriot, is a blacklisted former freelance journalist resident in Zionist-occupied Germany since 1992 with additional long-haul stays in East Africa, Poland and Switzerland. He advocates a Leaderless Resistance to destroy the Soviet European Union and is surreptitiously working towards a free and independent England.
Last updated 28/02/2010