Although I haven’t read the Casey Report, I can only conclude that it vindicates everything I have long believed, but entirely, about modern Britain.
To put it bluntly, the United Kingdom is now simply a bewildering place. The gradual erosion of British culture has reached such an extent that many people could no longer identify their own country in a police line-up, should it be required.
To take but one example, the tidal wave of foreign imports has changed honest British cuisine beyond recognition. It has all been too much, too soon. Potatoes were fine – but then it was tomatoes; and, no more than a few centuries after that, jalfrezis. What was wrong with an honest bowl of tepid water, I ask? Nothing, so far as I can see.
This is not merely my observation, you understand – most people I know feel the same way. Simply visit the local Sainsers. Instead of honest British peas, or the venerable parsnip, even the most homely of supermarkets now stocks a perplexing array of okra, pak choi, and lemon grass. And unlike the indigenous carrot, you simply do not know where you stand with an eggplant.
It is high-time that consumers of these, and similar vegetables, assimilated into our way of life, forthwith. There are already communities where you can no longer purchase the white part of leeks, for fear of upsetting certain sensibilities; and what’s more – according to the Daily Mail, no less – the BBC now uses mind-rays to beam political correctness into the very thought-processes of viewers: one moment, somebody is listening to Radio 4 – the next, they are trying to ban Christmas dinner.
On that score, an oath of allegiance to all things British cannot come too soon, to my mind. The following might very well suffice:
I pledge allegiance to Britain and its resplendent jams (and magnificent biscuits); and salute the Royal Yacht.
Oppose casual littering,
Believe strongly that you should be able to hear the lyrics in modern music (too often you can’t, I say);
And object to the general absence of moral fibre in the young these days.
Also, you get far too many many leaflets posted through your front door – as far as I’m concerned it really is not on – the council ought to crackdown on this racket, as a matter of urgency.
Bring back national service.
Lest we forget.
This is the sort of thing which will put hair back on the chest of the nation, in no short order. Until such a time as it occupies walls in every public building throughout the land, chaos will reign.