November 04, 2017
I have a message for the London mayor, Sadiq Khan: You and your policies stink! While the fuzz is busy trolling the internet for racist or sexist material, crime in the capital is up 10 percent, and the police—handicapped by PC orders from above—have made fewer arrests by 12 percent. Youth violence and murder are soaring in London, and some statistics have them up by 84 percent. Here’s a story that’s not a statistic: Last week my little girl Lolly was viciously attacked and robbed near World’s End after going to dinner with her cousin. She had spotted a hoodie (does Cameron still wish for us to hug them?) on her way to dinner, a man of North African, definitely Middle Eastern, appearance, and it was he who attacked her after dinner as she was nearing her flat at the end of King’s Road.
Mind you, the scumbag got a surprise. My beautiful daughter is made of sterner stuff and fought back, kicking him you-know-where but unable to gouge him in the eyes as I have taught her to do. When she was hit on the side of the head and went down she continued to fight, but the cowardly scumbag managed to rip an expensive necklace off her prior to running off in the dark. The next day a very nice female cop visited her and took down some details but never even asked for a description of the gem the filth had stripped off her. I suppose a description of something he was certain to get rid of immediately does not concern modern police work nowadays. It just might look a bit racist to go where all this scum lives and check out a few pawnshops.
My little girl had already told me how hoodlums and football hooligans get into drunken fights after dark near the Chelsea football grounds, and how there are never any police around. The mayor does not give a hoot for those who live near Chelsea or other so-called chic neighborhoods. He is there to help those who look different and have a different religion from the rest of the Brits, it’s as simple as that. If the Grenfell Towers had been occupied by whites who were more or less well-off, the mourning and media coverage would have been over the very same day. There are Arab gangs in Chelsea orchestrating break-ins, robbing shops, and mugging people, and they often are on mopeds, but London’s powers that be care about one thing only: racism.
Displaying empathy that hides the truth is no virtue, and I think most of us would agree. The truth is that foreign-born gangs, North Africans and Africans, are not prone to uphold our laws but choose the easy way, which is the criminal one. Eastern European immigrants come here to work; those from Africa come to receive welfare. It might sound racist to some, but it’s the truth, and the media that covers up these unpleasant truths is as guilty as that piece of filth who attacked my little girl the other night.
This cultural divide began in the ’60s and was encouraged by weak-kneed lefties—the kind who called Enoch Powell a racist—of all parties and political persuasions. If European leaders had followed more conservative policies on immigration long ago, perhaps this continent wouldn’t be in the deep you-know-what it is in today. The true traitors, in my not-so-humble opinion, are the mainstream media and academics. They are the ones who have spread the poison to the young in order to pat each other on the back when they meet and drink cheap warm white plonk in smelly places. They think they are morally superior—as delusional as Norma Desmond’s belief that Cecil B. DeMille wanted her back to star in one of his epics.
Political correctness that sees racism everywhere is a malignant scourge that will bring Europe to its end. Perhaps not in my children’s lifetime, but definitely in my grandchildren’s. Newspeak language designed to make political dissent impossible is now the prevailing state of things. Anything that the media and the academy do not approve of is called racist, with a repackaged national identity the order of the day. Everything has to change—history, sovereignty, the works. In America last week a church in Virginia took down two plaques of men who had worshipped there, one of George Washington, the other of Robert E. Lee. The plaques distracted our worshippers, said the cowardly rector.
But what’s the use in getting angry? Last week I wrote that if Brexit goes through, I’ll be back living in London in a jiffy. Now I’m so livid about the carelessness of British leaders in allowing all these criminals from North and Sub-Saharan Africa in, I might just stop somewhere in the North Atlantic and live out my days in peace. And a close friend who is the chairman of Asprey tells me London is no longer good for business. The stamp duty is 15 percent and the rates are 50 percent up. He is opening ten stores in Japan and South Korea, where taxes are reasonable. The Tories are killing off the golden goose and don’t know it. That arch-Russian arse-licker George Osborne started the rot. His jerky successor is almost as bad. Goodbye, London—Reykjavik, here I come.
Please sign this petition if you or anyone you know has been mugged or assaulted in London.
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