England, my England, why have you forsaken me?

I have always loved my country, but I am growing to hate the nation I live in. It is a country that has been taking the knee for so long now that anyone who still wishes to stand, anyone who refuses to be a self-hating fool, is considered an extremist.

All of the natural feelings and instincts of a patriot, the things that bind a people together in shared loyalty and fellowship, are treated as if they are perverse or revolting aberrations, sins that all decent people avoid. Loving your country, respecting its history, culture and people, these are described as if they are crimes. Soon, it seems, they will be.

I have never mistreated anyone on the basis of their race. I have never hated anyone solely for their skin colour. Not once in my life have I ever racially abused anyone. I have always obeyed the law, paid my taxes, and voted for the changes I desire. I have never used violence or advocated violence. But I am, now, a ‘far right extremist’.

I am defined as a far right extremist because I object to mindless and historically ignorant vandals tearing down historic statues. I object to the police doing nothing about this. I object to the memorials of our fallen soldiers being attacked, and the same happening to a statue of Churchill. I don’t see why white students and black supremacists get to decide to erase our history, or pretend that we, today, are somehow guilty for things that happened before we were born. I object to being considered privileged because of my skin colour, especially when the only skin colour I see being constantly insulted and demonised with official approval, is my own.

Not only do our police and politicians and media refuse to defend our history, our culture and even our children, they slander and smear us if we ever decide to defend ourselves. They ignore the violence from BLM and from anarchists and Marxists, but condemn us. Hertfordshire Police have even instructed their officers to bend the knee if a crowd demands it. But when that crowd is composed of the white working class, then the riot gear and the batons come out.

We are now being told that Churchill’s statue may have to be placed in a museum. Why? What kind of country hides away it’s heroes as if they are shameful, but celebrates terrorist organisations like BLM? Boris Johnson, who made a career out of wrapping himself in the Union Jack and pretending to be a patriot, parrots the left wing media. He calls those who love this country racists, and says nothing against those seeking to tear down its history or lord it over its populace.

Refuse to kneel now and you can lose your job. People are afraid to speak the truth. People are imprisoned or cautioned for speaking the truth. Your thoughts and words are policed, whilst real crimes are not. Nobody has to avoid offending you. Nobody has to accommodate your feelings or respect your rights, because you are the silent majority. You are the people that pay for this entire fucking insane circus, and keep the basic functions of society going.

There is an image circulating now of a man urinating on a memorial. It is claimed that this is one of the far right people. Maybe it is. It’s strange though that over the last few days the media didn’t manage to capture any of the left wing scum that pissed on memorials, but have managed to be on hand with camera poised for this one. How, to use an apt word, convenient.

But it did make me think of this. You work, you do the right thing, you never cause trouble, and all the while it’s raining. The rain that never stops. The rain of the government and the media and the fucking students and hypocritical racists and the journalists and the newsreaders and the rich metropolitan bastards all pissing on your back. Pissing on the bones of your ancestors and the chances of your children and the memory of what your country once was. There is no other betrayal quite like it.

I love my country, but I am tired unto death of my nation.