ALCATRAZ BRITAIN: EUROPE'S DIVERSE CRIMINAL MECCA
Britain -a small island off the coast of europe- is now the world's most popular minimum security prison. Organised foreign crooks run the government, while imported foreign gangs run the streets. A facade of law and order remains, but the police force is run by and for the Alphabet people alone. In the face of a collapsing justice system,the barristers have gone on strike, echoing the train-drivers and garbage collectors. We have more criminals behind bars than at any time in history, and hundreds more arriving every day. Welcome to Europe's diverse criminal Mecca.
You know you're finally topping the corruption table when the all world's gangsters are happy to gather in your backyard for their end-of-term party. In 2021, that knowledge came to Scotland. It's nothing to be proud about, but twelve months ago the most repulsive collection of political sleazeballs ever assembled on planet earth got together in my home town of Glasgow.
President Biden's elephantine motorcade wound through our crumbling roads like a scene from the Godfather, dozens of monstrous jet-black limousines delivering Joe plus god knows who and what to the globalist Moot they called COP 26. Every international fake-on-the-make was there: Trudeau and Macron smirking at the leering nutjobs from Down Under, a huddle of African sock-puppet premiers -their Swiss bank accounts open for business- and preening at centre-stage, the suited big-money mobsters from the WHO and the WEF.
Amid orgies of back-slapping and cork-popping, their ceremonial gloat went off without a hitch; a spine-tingling petting-party of mutual delight. Cop 26 became, of course, the mandatory ritual celebration of the globalist vermin's finest achievement yet: the magnificent Covid-con, the single biggest heist in the history of the world.
I remarked at the time that a single conveniently-located earthquake could -at that moment- have solved most of the world's real problems in a matter of seconds. In fact, I was so keen on the image of the earth opening up like the jaws of a gigantic shark, with Johnson, Biden, Schwab & co toppling to their doom in a tangled, mangled heap, I dreamed of it three nights running.
But you just can't get the Almighty to cooperate nowadays, however hard you pray. Not a celestial shot was fired. No miraculously targeted lightning-bolt split the sky; no gigantic meteorite struck Glasgow; not even a small volcanic eruption that could have...yes, I was only dreaming. Instead, the bullet-proof Bentleys roamed, the private jets soared, and three gazillion buckets of organic this and vintage that got flushed down the COP toilets via some of the least attractive stomachs imaginable. Lots of things were exchanged: numbers, addresses, banknotes and bullion, not to mention bodily fluids. Then all the world's biggest assholes went thir separate ways -until the next time; seeya in Davos darling!
Much of the last two years has been a trial on the emotions, but during those ghastly few days of COP 26, I was filled with a very particular blend of anger and injustice, spurred by the thought that the whole damn lot of them were all together, just up the road from me. Laughing and joking, all in the same heavily-guarded space, sharing congratulations, swirling in their fug of self-satisfaction and conceit.
Perhaps it was the bitter memory of all the physical restrictions these twisted control-freaks dared to inflict on the rest of us. The idea of them blowing even more of the millions they robbed from us on a big fuck-off party to reward themselves; basking in the glow of a job well done. I suppose when they are crawling around the Westminster cess-pit or reading their soundbites to the cameras they seem a million miles away, almost irrelevant, because they so clearly inhabit a parallel universe in which lies and fear are the tools of their sordid trade.
Yet they are real -all too real- and they are dismantling free Britain so fast if you blink you'll miss the last bits screaming as they drop down the memory-hole. For these people are engineering my fantasy earthquake, except it's we the people who will be toppling into the abyss. Mary Elizabeth Truss, the latest grinning numbskull installed in Downing Street, had the cheek to "address the nation" yesterday -as if anybody with a live braincell is going to swallow another helping of lukewarm puke from our Parliament of Thieves.
Confirming that men, national identity and the white British majority are to be erased from public life as fast as possible, Truss could not wait to surround herself with black and brown faces, and a good sprinkling of lesbians, affirming that keeping the Guardianistas onside is now the prime function of the UK Uniparty. "I will govern as a Conservative," she squawked, with not a hint of irony, reading the meaningless script composed for her by the same cabal of globalist scribes who wrote the copy for Cameron, May and Johnson.
The Truss Cabinet contains not a single white male, trumpeted a delighted chorus of media hacks, as if to provoke rousing cheers from imaginary crowds of Woke retards gathered in homage round flickering screens from Lands End to John O Groats. The bean-brained columnists punching keys for the Daily Telegraph, which is effectively now the House of Commons blog, hailed "the most diverse cabinet ever" - confirming that English officially has no meaning now, the language is extinct, up is down, war is peace and black = 'diverse'.
While she spoke, the water-taxis were roaring into England's south coast with four more busloads of petty criminals from Africa, gangsters from Albania, and mysteriously dark-skinned 'Ukranian refugees' with brand-new cellphones and address-books filled with the names of their relatives, and the hotels where they can be found. But Mary Elizabeth spoke not a word, for the boat-bandits, too, are" diverse" and destined for the front of every queue. Out of the way, pale-face.
The jewel in the Truss cabinet crown is undoubtedly her Chancellor of Cheque-writing, Akwasi Addo Alfred Kwarteng, the latest puppet in charge of printing billions of imaginary pounds to inflate the remains of the British economy till it bursts. Like Truss herself, Kwarteng is an MP from the 2010 intake, gifted a safe Tory seat after the incumbent got shoved out by the party whips in one of those "expenses scandal" operations where the patsy takes the fall to make way for the New Guy.
There's nothing new about Kwarteng's route to government however: prep school, Eton, Cambridge and a spell at the JP Morgan bank in New York, as a 'financial analyst'. Which is interesting, as you'd think JP Morgan, the largest bank in the world (by market capitalisation) -a bank with nearly FOUR TRILLION DOLLARS in assets, wouldn't really need to hire a twenty-something university graduate from Britain who'd never had a job in his life.
A dreadful cynic like myself might suggest Kwarteng was actually being trained how to carry out his employer's wishes from inside the UK government, and is in fact, the Minister for JP Morgan. It's a well-trodden path, as illustrated by former Chancellor Sajid Javid, who likewise found his way to Parliament via Oxbridge, the Chase Manhattan bank and the Deutschebank.
Expect, therefore the UK money-printing machine to roar back into life as Chancellor Kwarteng attempts to bribe the public with fantasy cash from tomorrow's crippling debt, in return for silence and compliance while the shops, pubs, cafes and restaurants vanish and the first power-cuts begin.
Crime and social unrest will definitely rise unless the government takes action, warns a "police think-tank" (if such an organisation can be imagined). Well, that's okay. It's not as if the police will be dealing with it, so long as there's a trans-activist online living in terror of hurty feelings. Get your priorities right, copper! Crime is all set to be the New Normal, from the drug-ridden slums of Glasgow to the mighty Treasury itself. Ask the Right Honourable Kwarteng -who will be forging great batches of banknotes around the clock from here to the next general pandemic, or until his own spell in Downing Street. It's a great career, organised crime -just ask the boys at JP Morgan.
This is Britain 2022 - Alcatraz 2.0., the offshore penal colony open to anyone with a box to tick. All the crooks who aren't here already are on their way. By this time next year I wouldn't be surprised if Prince Zelensky himself isn't standing for election in Kensington or Edinburgh. The trouble is down at gutter level, however, where the old and the sick fear to tread, and white, hetersosexual males must lock horns to compete for the price of a decent meal. For those suckers, in the zero-security punishment wing of Britain, there is absolutely no time off for good behaviour.
Comments
Post a Comment