I had not previously heard of this particular MP. Her background: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dehenna_Davison. Leaving aside Brexit (which I favoured but which was ruinously executed from the start by the Conservative Party idiot-ministers, including “Boris”), she seems to be in favour of simplistic cut-throat capitalism, which is a pity, because more MPs should have her less than silver-spoon background (in her case, working intermittently when younger in a Pizza Hut, a betting shop etc).
I doubt that she will be an MP for much longer.
In one short sentence he declares himself no less of a morally repugnant imbecile than the man he hopes to replace. https://t.co/ImUdioNrGr
.@EvaVlaar Joins Tucker Carlson Tonight To Discuss The Dutch Farmers Protest Against Their Government's Radical Climate Change Agenda
Eva: "Farmers are hardworking, God-fearing and especially self-sufficient people that are just standing in the way of their globalist agenda." pic.twitter.com/Jj9ibF0XA2
— The Columbia Bugle 🇺🇸 (@ColumbiaBugle) July 8, 2022
Hm…”self-sufficient“? Not in the EU or UK, where farmers are a heavily-subsidized industry.
If they don’t sign up to all that scheiss, they don’t get far in the System political world. The trans nonsense is just part of it, together with climate change via CO2 emissions, anti-“racism”, pro-Jew/Israel-ism, the multikulti society, the various “Covid” nonsense(s) (facemask nonsense etc), and so on.
Stray thoughts
The “Boris” departure yesterday: what a quasi-Levantine pack of nonsense, with the new-ish wife, and small child, wheeled out for the approval of the various guests and hangers-on. Why did “Boris” not expostulate “eez nice…nice“, in the manner of the late Bruce Forsyth, or sundry Mediterranean restaurateurs?
The UK was once quite renowned for the probity of its administrative and political system, even when the politicians were not intrinsically very honest (in some cases). Now? More than a whiff of the Orient, or the old East European ghettoes, permeates our politics and civil service.
“More than 700 Ukrainians have been given a place to stay in Gloucestershire under the Homes for Ukraine scheme.
The government initiative allows UK residents to sponsor named Ukrainian nationals, with more than 1,000 applications received in the county.
Excel fled Ukraine when Russia invaded and said the Gloucestershire community has been “really helpful”.
[Ecce “Excel”, the supposed “Ukrainian”]
Excel, who worked as a gynaecologist and cancer specialist in Kyiv, has so far been unable to find work in the UK, but said that since moving near to Stroud, “everyone has been really friendly”.
He said he planned to just go to west Ukraine with his wife and mother-in-law, but they were forced to keep going until he hit the Polish border, a journey that would normally take six hours, but ended up taking four days.“
[BBC News]
So…he “hit the Polish border“, and then suddenly found himself in…the Cotswolds…
I wonder how many of the dwindling audience of the BBC actually believe this horseshit?
Anyway, that’s one house in Gloucestershire (either now or soon) which will not be available to struggling British people…
Why could he not return to his native Nigeria? Rhetorical question, of course. He has no intention of ever leaving the UK.
“Those whom the Gods wish to destroy, they first make mad“. UK, France, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Netherlands. Others too.
Thanks to blog commentator “nativewarrior14” for that information.
If you are not prepared to do this then it goes without saying that you lack even the most minimal levels of courage and moral integrity required to lead a nation. And the time is fast approaching when huge numbers of ordinary folk will know this to be the case.
Andrea Jenkyns, about whom I blogged yesterday and also a few years ago: see https://ianrobertmillard.org/2019/05/21/the-andrea-jenkyns-story/. I suppose that, in the end, you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Chances are, she will be out of Parliament fairly soon.
Just got back from Rochdale where I was photographing the church where my grandma and grandpa got married. I haven't been there for thirty years – if anyone tries to tell me white people aren't being replaced I'll show my a*se in Selfridges Window. Rochdale is no longer Rochdale
What is the term which I seek? Ah, yes. “Cultural appropriation”…or you could say “takeover”, or more…
At any rate, “virtue-signalling”. In my view, that is ecumenical Kameradschaft taken rather too far. Would it happen in reverse? Maybe, but I doubt it. Also, is there any real point to such gestures?
It was not always so, as Rupert Brooke wrote from pre-First World War Berlin, in a rarely-seen verse from his famous poem, Grantchester [properly, The Old Vicarage, Grantchester]:
“Here, temperamentvoll German Jews drink beer around
But there the dew lays heavy on the ground, in Grantchester.”
At least, I thought that that was what I had read, several decades ago, aged about 18. In fact, I have misquoted, it seems:
I always thought that the lines were rather trite. Now I know why. I misremembered. The triteness was mine, not Rupert Brooke’s.
“The Old Vicarage, Grantchester
(Cafe des Westens, Berlin, May 1912)
Just now the lilac is in bloom, All before my little room; And in my flower-beds, I think, Smile the carnation and the pink; And down the borders, well I know, The poppy and the pansy blow . . . Oh! there the chestnuts, summer through, Beside the river make for you A tunnel of green gloom, and sleep Deeply above; and green and deep The stream mysterious glides beneath, Green as a dream and deep as death. — Oh, damn! I know it! and I know How the May fields all golden show, And when the day is young and sweet, Gild gloriously the bare feet That run to bathe . . . Du lieber Gott!
Here am I, sweating, sick, and hot, And there the shadowed waters fresh Lean up to embrace the naked flesh. Temperamentvoll German Jews Drink beer around; — and there the dews Are soft beneath a morn of gold. Here tulips bloom as they are told; Unkempt about those hedges blows An English unofficial rose; And there the unregulated sun Slopes down to rest when day is done, And wakes a vague unpunctual star, A slippered Hesper; and there are Meads towards Haslingfield and Coton Where das Betreten’s not verboten.
εἴθε γενοίμην. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester! — Some, it may be, can get in touch With Nature there, or Earth, or such. And clever modern men have seen A Faun a-peeping through the green, And felt the Classics were not dead, To glimpse a Naiad’s reedy head, Or hear the Goat-foot piping low: . . . But these are things I do not know. I only know that you may lie Day long and watch the Cambridge sky, And, flower-lulled in sleepy grass, Hear the cool lapse of hours pass, Until the centuries blend and blur In Grantchester, in Grantchester. . . . Still in the dawnlit waters cool His ghostly Lordship swims his pool, And tries the strokes, essays the tricks, Long learnt on Hellespont, or Styx. Dan Chaucer hears his river still Chatter beneath a phantom mill. Tennyson notes, with studious eye, How Cambridge waters hurry by . . . And in that garden, black and white, Creep whispers through the grass all night; And spectral dance, before the dawn, A hundred Vicars down the lawn; Curates, long dust, will come and go On lissom, clerical, printless toe; And oft between the boughs is seen The sly shade of a Rural Dean . . . Till, at a shiver in the skies, Vanishing with Satanic cries, The prim ecclesiastic rout Leaves but a startled sleeper-out, Grey heavens, the first bird’s drowsy calls, The falling house that never falls.
God! I will pack, and take a train, And get me to England once again! For England’s the one land, I know, Where men with Splendid Hearts may go; And Cambridgeshire, of all England, The shire for Men who Understand; And of that district I prefer The lovely hamlet Grantchester. For Cambridge people rarely smile, Being urban, squat, and packed with guile; And Royston men in the far South Are black and fierce and strange of mouth; At Over they fling oaths at one, And worse than oaths at Trumpington, And Ditton girls are mean and dirty, And there’s none in Harston under thirty, And folks in Shelford and those parts Have twisted lips and twisted hearts, And Barton men make Cockney rhymes, And Coton’s full of nameless crimes, And things are done you’d not believe At Madingley on Christmas Eve. Strong men have run for miles and miles, When one from Cherry Hinton smiles; Strong men have blanched, and shot their wives, Rather than send them to St. Ives; Strong men have cried like babes, bydam, To hear what happened at Babraham. But Grantchester! ah, Grantchester! There’s peace and holy quiet there, Great clouds along pacific skies, And men and women with straight eyes, Lithe children lovelier than a dream, A bosky wood, a slumbrous stream, And little kindly winds that creep Round twilight corners, half asleep. In Grantchester their skins are white; They bathe by day, they bathe by night; The women there do all they ought; The men observe the Rules of Thought. They love the Good; they worship Truth; They laugh uproariously in youth; (And when they get to feeling old, They up and shoot themselves, I’m told) . . .
Ah God! to see the branches stir Across the moon at Grantchester! To smell the thrilling-sweet and rotten Unforgettable, unforgotten River-smell, and hear the breeze Sobbing in the little trees. Say, do the elm-clumps greatly stand Still guardians of that holy land? The chestnuts shade, in reverend dream, The yet unacademic stream? Is dawn a secret shy and cold Anadyomene, silver-gold? And sunset still a golden sea From Haslingfield to Madingley? And after, ere the night is born, Do hares come out about the corn? Oh, is the water sweet and cool, Gentle and brown, above the pool? And laughs the immortal river still Under the mill, under the mill? Say, is there Beauty yet to find? And Certainty? and Quiet kind? Deep meadows yet, for to forget The lies, and truths, and pain? . . . oh! yet Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?”
If truth be known, that is not the style of poetry I like anyway.
I have actually seen Grantchester, once. It was when I was doing my Bar pupillage. After the early collapse of a trial when a co-defendant elected not to surrender to his bail, the pupilmaster and I went to Grantchester for a beer (it was by then about lunchtime, and we needed one! See: https://ianrobertmillard.org/2018/06/24/a-day-out-in-cambridge/).
On the edge of the village, we saw the eponymous Old Vicarage [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Vicarage,_Grantchester], which seemed less scenic then (1992) than it does in the Wikipedia photo. I was surprised to see a painted plastic or concrete deer in the grounds. “Vulgar, moi?” territory. I could believe that of its then (and I think current) owner, Jeffrey Archer, but hardly of his supposedly (according to a trial judge) “fragrant” wife Mary, who was then, I think, a professor at Cambridge University. Still, there it is. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeffrey_Archer; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Archer.
As to Libby Purves, I may have heard her a couple of times on radio many years ago. I know little of her, though I am sure that she is well-meaning: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Libby_Purves.
Other tweets seen
Does strangling your society and economy plus mass house arrest and the wrecking of education save any lives? The evidence suggests not https://t.co/x7VojL5hRB
Thank you @stephenleah3 . Your support is much valued. It gives strength to my arm and power to my voice. Though there are times when the truth seems to be getting nowhere. https://t.co/8ybWpXr31E
Normal death rate in UK is approx 1,600 each day @aprobateti. Many years see excess deaths in winter from respiratory diseases, without anyone seeing any need to strangle the economy or impose mass house arrest. All these figures seen in context, take on a different meaning. https://t.co/DAvSFy83m6
To sustain the leaf-glueing metaphor, the 'testing' frenzy is like sending millions of civil servants round the country to *count* the falling leaves of autumn, and to conclude 'the Country is falling to bits! Panic!'
Peter Hitchens predicts the Covid pandemic and Brexit will lead to a "political crisis" in the "not too distant future".
“When it does come…we should begin to have this country governed by people who love this country and care about it and know about it."@Iromg | @ClarkeMicahpic.twitter.com/prD5smjGFH
Even Con voters are slowly waking up to the idiot’s uselessness…
The only thing that saves the skin of Boris-idiot and the misnamed “Conservatives” is that Keir Starmer and equally-misnamed “Labour” are fading in popularity at the same time:
Can we be clear. Lockdowns work. We saw that earlier in the year. What doesn't work are Fire-Breaks, Circuit-Breakers, etc. Because as soon they are lifted, rates leap up again. But Lockdowns are unsustainable over the long term. So can we at least debate on that basis.
Meaning that, so long as people are all basically imprisoned in their homes, “the virus” cannot easily be transmitted. If the “lockdown” (shutdown) is strict, maybe, but only for as long as it is maintained strictly. Except that it cannot be maintained for long, certainly not strictly, without inflicting massive economic and social (and indeed, non-Covid medical) damage on Britain. As Hodges says, even if “lockdowns” “work” (while they are in strict operation), they can only work as long as the shutdown continues. After which, “the virus” surges again; and the economy has been shattered in the meantime.
The Twitterati idiots don’t care much about that. Many are on public service contracts, so will be the last to be made redundant. Some (eg NHS doctors) have “had their mouths stuffed with gold” (pay rises) too. Other Twit-people are unemployed, disabled, or employed on hugely lucrative msm salaries and/or fees (eg the “celebrity” types).
All of the above are fine (for the time being) that the economy may soon be tanking…
I'm going to say it again. How much longer are we going to continue with the fantasy the Tier system works. https://t.co/FAQZRMiMA0
Lockdowns work in the sense that they prevent lots of people getting infected WHILE they are on lockdown. It doesn't prevent infection. It simply delays infection until after the lockdown ends.
To be fair the livelihoods of millions is being destroyed by lockdowns. Those in protected media jobs, banging the Governments anti scientific drum, with no fear of losing income is infuriating.
Sadiq Khan wearing a massive facemask in tartan and doing an interview in it;
The celebrity-alumni University Challenge with the usual collection of badly-informed msm talking heads, drones, thespians etc. Particularly poor was the BBC News “Security and intelligence” bod, Gordon Corera [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gordon_Corera], whose grasp of geography seemed remarkably poor for someone with his special focus. For example, he thought, inter alia, that Azerbaidjan is in Central Asia…He did not seem to know much else, either;
Assorted “antifa” idiots and/or Jews complaining that Nick Ferrari on LBC actually let a British woman, opposed to mass immigration and the “BLM” nonsense, speak for a minute.
Only nonWhite students can opt out of this sketchy dangerous vaccine but Whites will be forced to take the jab because 'racist medical experiments' in the past! Yes, really.
As I have just said to @Iromg Mike Graham on @TalkRadio, the government's useless, madly costly Covid policies are like sending the army round the country, glueing leaves back on the trees, to prevent autumn from taking place.
Ian Robert Millard 