And Then Yup, Another Old ‘Un…

   Still here but wot with all wot’s going on ma heeds been taking a break and firmly in neutral. New faces up there but same plan to take control of our every movement and thought.
   Anyhoo, with the invasion of this country still cracking on a-pace this gave me an excuse to lazily re-post wot’s below. Think it’d work?
With the rising tide of people running away from Africa and seeking a home in Europe, and by definition, the UK, and many folk expressing concern that this is basically leading to population displacement/replacement, I have a cunning plan. 
   Let's stop all the whining and whinging and get a grip people. Why don't we just select an African country and let 'em all in; even send help with transport so's they can skip the risky sinky boaty bitty in the middle of their trip. However, and this is the cleaver bit, as they come, we go. Twenty thousand sleepy lagoons imported from there to here to equal twenty thousand of ol' whitey exported from here to there. Over a relatively short period of time ol' whitey will be relocated down south the way with our survival and empire building instincts kicking-in big time.  
   First boat out should be loaded-out with entrepreneurs, engineers, builders, farmers fishermen, drillers and miners just to kick-start the grand adventure and to draw up plans for the countries infrastructure. Roads would be a low priority as they will most likely be in better shape than the roads we'll be leaving behind. Also a contingency of the Royal Corps of Engineers to assist the RN guys get the docks up to snuff and the RAF guys upgrading the airports, the faster to export and import the two populations. Or import and export if you're still over here waiting your turn to go. 
   Is the entire indigenous population of this island welcome to our new home? You're kidding, right? This is a one-off; a new start building a country from the ground-up so we need to be a tad selective with who we can best live without. 
   Those NOT required on voyage would be, but not be limited to, the following:
Bed-wetting Timidadians and puritanians, no woke wobblers, nobody called Karen, Ant, Dec or Piers, no green goblins, no politicians or councillors of any political persuasion. No bureaucrats, civil serpents, any and all charity and quango employers/employees, tele-sales people, all teachers from primary right through to university level. No lawyers and members of the judiciary, anyone involved with or has any connection to the MSM, especially the BBC, with the possible exception of Sponge Bob Square Pants. The Royal family? We'll choose and then give them the choice but if they come, they'll have to build their own homes using their own money and their own hands. And content themselves with just appearing on stamps and nothing more. 
   Seems to me it could be a win-win situation. Blank canvas, new start, full employment as we build our new country and harvest its abundance of natural reserves to be used and exported and a new industrial base based on the future. And the weather? It's guaranteed to be better than that wot we get up here. 
   Say what now? You'd like to go but you'd miss your fox hunting? Trust me, there'll be stuff down there for you to hunt but, unlike fox hunting, if you get it wrong you'll quickly discover you've become the hunted. Sorry? You're not up for that sort of challenge? You're not up for that sort of trip then.

 Quote; James Lankford.

“Our nation stands at the crossroads of liberty. Crushing national debt, rampant illegal immigration, insane business regulations and staggering national unemployment are pushing our nation into unchartered territory.”

And Then, No Rest...

   Once again, real life, got in the way of tapping away on the tap-top. A tad quieter today but find I’m bereft of anything worth tapping out.
   However, seems some legal eagles have declared the government plan regards gimmigrants is illegal. Seems They’ve declared Rwanda isn’t safe so ‘we’ have to slowly{?} make our{?} country unsafe as well... That’ll work.
  Anyhoo, I would’ve thought the original plan would’ve been thrashed out, checked for practicality, legality and checked again and again by all those supposedly smart folk wot would rule over us and their legal gurus prior to announcing the plan. Having said that, we shouldn’t be surprised at all that yet another cunning plan has died before kick-off. Was it ever a plan or just a show? I think we know.
    Seems anything that could be of benefit to us down here dies on day one whereas any plan to hurt us down here storms into action on day one minus one or two.
   Haven’t ‘we’ already given Rwanda a shed load of kelly to take care of the gimmigrants? Is it refundable? Yeah, right.
   At least Lily’s Here to brighten up the evening;

Quote;  Sholom Aleichem.

“Lawyers are just like physicians: what one says, the other contradicts.”

And Then An Old Answer...

   Sir John Redwood has a post up regards stopping wot he calls the small boats. The comments say it all and, yet again, reminded me of my cunning plan posted a little bit after a while ago. Seems to me this cunning plan gets ever more appealing with every passing hour... In case you missed it, here he be again:
   With the rising tide of people running away from Africa and seeking a home in Europe, and by definition, the UK, and many folk expressing concern that this is basically leading to population displacement/replacement, I have a cunning plan.
  Let's stop all the whining and whinging and get a grip people. Why don't we just select an African country and let 'em all in; even send help with transport so's they can skip the risky sinky boaty bitty in the middle of their trip. However, and this is the cleaver bit, as they come, we go.
  Twenty thousand sleepy lagoons imported from there to here to equal twenty thousand of ol' whitey exported from here to there. Over a relatively short period of time ol' whitey will be relocated down south the way with our survival and empire building instincts kicking-in big time.
  First boat out should be loaded-out with entrepreneurs, engineers, builders, farmers fishermen, drillers and miners just to kick-start the grand adventure and to draw up plans for the countries infrastructure. Roads would be a low priority as they will most likely be in better shape than the roads we'll be leaving behind. Also a contingency of the Royal Corps of Engineers to assist the RN guys get the docks up to snuff and the RAF guys upgrading the airports, the faster to export and import the two populations. Or import and export if you're still over here waiting your turn to go.
  Is the entire indigenous population of this island welcome to our new home? You're kidding, right? This is a one-off; a new start building a country from the ground-up so we need to be a tad selective with who we can best live without.
  Those NOT required on voyage would be, but not limited to, the following:
Bed-wetting Timidadians and puritanians, no SJWs woke or not, nobody called Karen, Ant, Dec or Piers, no green goblins, no politicians or councillors of any political persuasion. No bureaucrats, civil serpents, absolutely no charity and/or quango employers/employees, no tele-sales people, no teachers from primary right through to university level. No lawyers and members of the judiciary, anyone involved with or has any connection to the MSM, especially the BBC, with the possible exception of Sponge Bob. This is a new start, right?
   The Royal family? We'll choose and then give them the choice but if they come, they'll have to build their own homes using their own money and their own hands. And content themselves with just appearing on stamps and nothing more.
  Seems to me it could be a win-win situation. Blank canvas, new start, full employment as we build our new country and harvest its abundance of natural resources to be used and exported and a new industrial base based on the future. And the weather? It's guaranteed to be better than that wot we get up here.
  Say what now? You'd like to go but you'd miss your fox hunting? Trust me, there'll be stuff down there for you to hunt but, unlike fox hunting, if you get it wrong you'll quickly discover you've become the hunted. Sorry? You're not up for that sort of challenge? You're not up for that sort of trip then.
   Have a joyous fun filled fifteen hundred o’clock ‘smartphone’ alert call y’all.

Quote;  Aldous Huxley.

“...most men and women will grow up to love their servitude and will never dream of revolution.”

And Then Export Them…

   So the media are taking a little break from birthday cakes to focus on Mr Bojangles cunning plan to collect the majority of gimmigrants and ship ‘em straight off to Rwanda.
   Two things spring to mind and the obvious is the ‘uman rights folk gluing themselves to airport runways or the gimmigrants kicking off on the plane.
   The thing we really must check when the dust settles is to confirm where the Rwanda of which they speak is and if this is indeed the African country to which they’ll be sent, or is it actually, through cunning miss-pronouncement, a sleepy market town in the Welsh Rhondda Valley that’ll get ‘em?
   This was followed by some fellow saying they should be allowed in as we have a desperate labour shortage. So, as I believe I’ve mentioned before, why aren’t these gimmigrants escorted daily to earn their pocket money and three hots and a cot at places screaming out for workers?
   Anyhoo, it all reminded me of a post from not too far back I put together as a help yourself and send to any M.p. of your choice. Priti Pointless for one springs to mind…
So this is a simple illustrative challenge for those that must be obeyed:
   Go off to work one day and leave your front door open and a large ‘Welcome’ sign hanging on your front gate. I’m betting you get a shock upon returning home. Whoa! I opened the door and they came!
   After a couple of days of your ‘open door’ policy, you’ll be ‘surprised’ to find that using the kitchen and bathroom with the regularity and freedom you once enjoyed will have gone for some strange reason.
   Soon thereafter you may well find yourself having to queue to use your own computer and having to be content with sitting on the floor in your lounge and even having to sleep on the floor in the hall. Eventually, sitting will become a problem and you may well just have enough room to stand at the back. Sadly, the standing room that enables leaning against a wall is all being used; it’s now only stand-up straight space.
   In no time at all, you’ll no longer be able to get your car on the drive as it seems to be in continuous use as a hand car wash station. On the plus side, finding you have to park quite some distance away, the walk enables you to calm down a tad before entering what was once your castle but is now a multi-culti utopia.
   Your garden? Just a jungle as the last time you tried to do a bit out there, tiptoeing through all kinds of unsavoury looking stuff and strange charcoal cooking thingies, you lost your place in the proper toilet queue and wet yourself.
   Eventually, after becoming a tad disconcerted with the rapid ever upwards trajectory of your electricity, gas and water bills and the dangerous load on some sockets threatening to blow you off the grid, you may well decide you’ve had enough and need to get everyone out and lock the door.
   However, when you finally come to take that action you’ll be shocked to find it’s too late as that’s when you’ll discover you’ve lost all governance of your own home and you are now in the minority.
   And thus ends my miniature picture of our little bit o’ rock sitting in an angry sea.

Quote;  John Fleming.

“I think always, when you have a candidate promising free stuff, and another promising less stuff or nothing, the one who promises more is always going to have the advantage.”

And Then A Media Win, Win...

Well, so, we didn’t win last night. Oh dear, how sad, never mind. But many folk are sad and do mind.
   Before I kick-off, please let me reiterate the oft mentioned point that I, me and myself don’t have a racist bone in my body. Been there, worked with ‘em all. Make fun of each other? Sure, and usually got more back than given; all in good humour.
   Right, I see the media are in an uproar over raciest hurty words being used all over Unsocial Me, Me, Media regards three missed penalties. Firstly, from wot I’ve seen, kicking a ball at a goal post or gently towards the goal keeper does not a penalty make.
   However, pause a moment and consider the choice of penalty takers. Was that racially motivated by orders from above? If those three balls had been banged into the bag, can you imagine the state the panty wetting media would’ve worked themselves into for the foreseeable future? Three kids of colour, from deprived backgrounds, naturally, wrest victory for England from the jaws of defeat. Oh, the joys of the multiculturalism  of our so wondrously diverse country.  Wash, rinse, repeat.
   Anyhoo, the media, always quick to find bate, have turned the defeat into the unacceptable face of  hurty raciest words and how nasty ol’ whity can be. Wash, rinse, repeat.
   Thus you’ll see a footy win would’ve been a media win but a loss can also be a media win as they continue to assure us that we’re all nasty racists. So, happily, the media, were ready, whatever the result, of have a rolling win to fill air time. 
   In other ‘news’, let’s have another scare. That nasty mcr-1 gene is going to kill ten million folk a year by 2050. Is this a kind o’ co-co? No, you’re going to get it from your pet dog. Ah shacks ma tail...

Quote;  Maria Cristina Mena.

“Piano keys are black and white but they sound like a million colours in your mind.”

And Then, Wot Next...

   Well, get a jab so’s you can have a summer break in the sun? You had the jab? Well, hold that booking; you may not be allowed away after all. Imagine my surprise at that revelation. I also see we’re up to the expected wave four on the Richter Plague Scale of fear now.
   I’ve said it before and, guess wot, I’m saying it again. Okay, typing it. Wot is the point of getting this magic potion pumped into you? According to the propaganda, get the elixir of life to be safe and sound. So I’m jabbed, so I shouldn’t care if all the other folk on the flight or on the beach are unknowingly or knowingly plague carriers, right? I’m jabbed, right? I’m safe, right? Wrong it would seem. So, again, the point of the pointy bit in your arm is?
   DO NOT do that click an’ read thingy on this Slog piece if you’re enjoying your late afternoon or evening.
   Over at Nourishing Obscurity I found my clumsy fingers had copied wot’s below. Sorry. Now that’s in need of very careful editing - sufficient to fit it on a
T-shirt...

People who haven’t been sick all year
are willing to get sick from a shot to
feel protected from something that
hasn’t made them sick all year?

   In other news,  there is quietly contained fuming here at the news ‘our’ government, in the form of Priti Pointless, is proposing all refugees be granted Indefinite Leave To Remain here thus making a mockery of the extremely expensive legal process her and I or me and her or us two or the two of us, whichever ticks your grammar box, had to adhere to to obtain wot’s now going for free to some. The legal Leave to Remain states ‘No recourse to public funds.’ Let’s see wot the freebee jobbie includes... Probably more fuming from those that followed the ‘alternative’ expensive legal process. We shacks our heeds. Both of them.
   Addendumadodad; Remembered this wot I typed into a mail of the E type the other day regards that senseless census thingy. If it helps y’all, when I got to question 27, I ticked the NO box and wrote squirrel in the space provided. I now expect all official mail to arrive addressed to S. Nutkin... 
   Finally, an old quote that needs mailing to all those that would rule over us. Of course, we’re far too smart for anything like that to work here, right?

Quote;  Adolf Hitler.

“The best way to take control over a people and control them utterly is to take a little of their freedom at a time, to erode rights by a thousand tiny and almost imperceptible reductions. In this way, the people will not see those rights and freedoms being removed until past the point at which these changes cannot be reversed.”

And Then, Where’s Our Voice...

  Down the ways is a link to a video on one of they Twatter thingies; again, hope it works as it relates to the title of this post. Where is our voice daring to fight back against all the flaky fakery over here? And the hysteria generated by our MSM regards blood clots is truly scary. Of course the vaccine’s safe. Now just shut up and go get it.
  As the weather improves, I note jab passports are back in the ‘news’. A must have if you want a holiday on a floating hotel it seems.
  Tell you wot, if you don’t want the chemi cocktail but you fancy a break over the water, head to Dover and paddle a dingy back the ways. Win – win, as you’ll be warmly greeted over there for returning a dingy, no jab required, save on ferry or flight costs, no paperwork required and after your break, head home the same way. You may even get a few extra days in a four star hotel. Happy holidays y’all.
  Okay, this is the video of a fellow saying it as he sees it... Happy to report the link works for me.
   I had another ready in embederate, another bunch of doctors against the vaccine. It was there yesterday, but gone today. They need to rename YoyTube to something along the lines of You-can-watch-what-we-say-YouCanTube.

Quote;  Alan Maiccon

“Envy is an endless injection.”

And Then A Note For Bristol...

Did you see this in the news? You know wot? As the hotels fill up and all the virtue signalling luvvies spare rooms are taken, similar requests will be coming from your town ‘elders’ any time now. The scheme is voluntary of course; for now. But...

   People in Bristol have been urged to host asylum seekers in their homes to prevent them living on the streets.
   During the Coronavirus pandemic, the city council has housed a number of them in hotels across Bristol but the arrangement was due to end shortly.
   Bristol Hospitality Network (BHN) has asked for 20 volunteers who could offer a spare room for three months or more.
   Mayor Marvin Rees backed the scheme and said Bristol should be a place "where everyone feels welcome and safe".

Reading the BBC heart tugging bit it talks of failed asylum seekers. Refused but still here? How does that work then?

Anyhoo, my thanks to those who would rule over us for making Blogging so easy and thus may I post this again. Hell, it was only re-posted last year and here we are again. Seems the world’s on break a bit, wash, rinse, dry, break a bit more, repeat. Regardless, residents of Bristol, before falling over yourselves to signal your virtue, as I’m quietly confident you will be, take careful note of wot’s below, okay?

A female Canadian libertarian wrote a lot of letters to the government complaining about the treatment of captive insurgents being held in Afghanistan National Correctional System facilities. She received back the following reply:

Dear Concerned Citizen,
Thank you for your recent letter expressing your profound concern of treatment of the Taliban and Al Qaeda terrorists captured by Canadian Forces who were subsequently transferred to the Afghanistan Government and are currently being held by Afghan officials in Afghanistan National Correctional System facilities.
   Our administration takes these matters seriously and your opinions were heard loud and clear here in Ottawa. You will be pleased to learn, thanks to the concerns of citizens like yourself; we are creating a new department here at the Department of National Defense, to be called Liberals Accept Responsibility for Killers program, or L.A.R.K. for short.
   In accordance with the guidelines of this new program, we have decided to divert one terrorist and place him in your personal care. Your personal detainee has been selected and is scheduled for transportation, under heavily armed guard, to your residence in Toronto next Monday.
Ali Mohammed Ahmed bin Mahmud (you can just call him Ahmed) is to be cared for pursuant to the standards you personally demanded in your letter of complaint. It will likely be necessary for you to hire some assistant caretakers. We will conduct weekly inspections to ensure that your standards of care for Ahmed are commensurate with those you so strongly recommend in your letter.
   Although Ahmed is a sociopath and extremely violent, we hope that your sensitivity to what you described as his attitudinal problem will help him overcome these character flaws. Perhaps you are correct in describing these problems as mere cultural differences. We understand that you plan to offer counselling and home schooling.
   Your adopted terrorist is extremely proficient in hand-to-hand combat and can extinguish human life with such simple items as a pencil or nail clippers. We advise that you do not ask him to demonstrate these skills at your next yoga group. He is also expert at making a wide variety of explosive devices from common household products, so you may wish to keep those items locked up, unless (in your opinion) this might offend him.
   Ahmed will not wish to interact with you or your daughters since he views females as a subhuman form of property. This is a particularly sensitive subject for him and he has been known to show violent tendencies around women who fail to comply with the new dress code that he will recommend as more appropriate attire. I'm sure you will come to enjoy the anonymity offered by the burka over time. Just remember that it is all part of respecting his culture and religious beliefs, as described in your letter.
   Thanks again for your concern. We truly appreciate it when folks like you keep us informed of the proper way to do our job and care for our fellow man. You take good care of Ahmed, and remember, we'll be watching. Good luck and God bless you (or Allah as the case may be).

Quote;  Ronald Reagan.

“A nation that cannot control its borders is not a nation.”

And Then, Wot A Month...

Wot we call flaming June has certainly lived up to its name this year has it not? And as a grand finale we have the rapidly disappearing news of a fellow going doolally with a dagger at his digs. This was the hotel where asylum seekers were being lodged and, apparently, the hotel had already had complaints from the residents regarding the quality of the food and poor WiFi connectivity. Good enough reasons to go nuts with a knife, right? Queuing up for the start of, it’s all our fault... 

Seems there were six folk stabbed but I spotted in the news that this seeker of asylum had informed two members of the hotel staff and some fellow guests of his intention to go doolally with a dagger the day before he did do so. With this in mind, one can only imagine how greater the carnage may have been if this timely heads-up hadn’t been given and the appropriate authorities informed and preventative action duly taken. Say wot now? Yeah, I shacks ma heed also.

Let’s end with an old number. I think I mentioned many moons ago that for a long time, when passing through Vietnam, every bar and coffee shop seemed to be playing Cotton Eyed Joe on a loop. Enjoy. Damn!! There’s some pretty girls in that old clip. I feel better already...

            

Quote;  Marina Tsvetaeva.

“A deep sigh — an interview with a knife.”

And Then, I Never Knew...

First rattle from my cage is a jolly good read typed by the good A K Haart so click the blue bit and go read if you haven’t already. Enough thought food to cover your five a day.

As I’ve stated before, since age sixteen, upon joining my first boat and then spending the majority of my working life working and partying heartily with all nationalities and races, visiting most countries of the world, then working and living in a few, I can say that I don’t have a racist bone in my body. However, that idea has been blown out of my head recently, courtesy of our broadcast media, as hardly a day passes without switching on and finding a lady or man, almost always of colour, telling me that all white folk are inherently racist. I now fully accept their ideas and find I’m right onboard with their concept of racism.

Sadly, I do believe I may have misinterpreted some meanings here and need to do a mind reset and quit this racism stuff as I’m full sure that I’ll get caught quite quickly owing to the huge number of speed cameras there are all over the place so I need to stop all this racing about in the car... 

WARING; DEFCON 2. Timidadians, please DON’T play the song below, okay? Just don’t as the lyrics – that’s the words – are jolly naughty and you really don’t want them anywhere near you sensitive ears and leaking into your heads. Got it? Good.

For anyone who’s still here, below is a ditty I ran into last night wot made me smile. If you give it a go and you’re in polite company, may I humbly suggest the use of head buds. You may find, as Indeed did I, that it has one of the most annoyingly – nay, infuriatingly catchy choruses you’ll have heard for many a long time. 

Another WARNING: Playing this track more than once could result in you waking at three in the morning with the chorus playing loudly in your head on a continuous loop. But hay, let’s give that no nonny-nonny mind...

          

Quote;  ??

“On the roof of a very tall building are four men; one is Asian, one is Mexican, one is black, and the last one is white. The Asian walks to the ledge and says, ‘This is for all my people’ and jumps off the roof. Next, the Mexican walks to the ledge and also says, ‘This is for all my people’ then he jumps off the roof. Next it’s the black guy's turn. The black guy walks to the ledge and says, ‘This is for all my people’ and throws the white guy off the roof.”

And Then A Challenge...

Further to a paragraph from an earlier post, may I offer a challenge to those who would rule over us?

Any PC spy please note, this post is not to be construed as racist in any way, manor or form. All I have is a fear that our country is full and quite quickly approaching overflow. As further proof of this, should any be needed, we’re now told that we’re running out of water and the NHS, blessed be its name, will soon need another couple of thousand pounds a year off each of us. How cool is that then? You’d think someone a lot brighter than me could figure out that the more folks there are sharing the same amount of stuff must mean that there will quickly be less stuff for each of us, right?

So this is the simple illustrative challenge for those that must be obeyed:
Go off to work one day and leave your front door open and a large ‘Welcome’ sign hanging on your front gate. I’m betting you get a shock upon returning home. Whoa! I opened the door and they came!

After a couple of days of your ‘open door’ policy, you’ll be ‘surprised’ to find that using the kitchen and bathroom with the regularity and freedom you once enjoyed will have gone for some strange reason. Soon thereafter you may well find yourself having to queue to use your own computer and having to be content with sitting on the floor in your lounge and even having to sleep on the floor in the hall. Eventually, sitting will become a problem and you may well just have enough room to stand at the back. Sadly, the standing room that enables leaning against a wall is all being used; it’s now only stand-up straight space.

In no time at all, you’ll no longer be able to get your car on the drive as it seems to be in continuous use as a hand car wash station. On the plus side, finding you have to park quite some distance away, the walk enables you to calm down a tad before entering what was once your castle but is now a multiculti utopia.

Your garden? Just a jungle as the last time you tried to do a bit out there, tiptoeing through all kinds of unsavoury looking stuff and strange charcoal cooking thingies, you lost your place in the proper toilet queue and wet yourself.

Eventually, after becoming a tad disconcerted with the rapid ever upwards trajectory of your electricity, gas and water bills and the dangerous load on some sockets threatening to blow you off the board, you may well decide you’ve had enough and need to get everyone out and lock the door. However, when you finally come to take that action you’ll be shocked to find it’s too late as that’s when you’ll discover you’ve lost all governance of your own home and you are now in a miniscule minority.

And thus ends my miniature picture of our little bit o’ rock sitting in an angry ocean. Please feel free to copy, amend or edit as you wish, and post to your MP and any believers of open borders to see if they’re up for the challenge.

The cessation of all acts of inhalation and exhalation whilst awaiting a note of acceptance to the challenge, or indeed any response at all, isn’t advised.

               

Quote;  Edward Abbey.

“A crowded society is a restrictive society; an overcrowded society becomes an authoritarian, repressive and murderous society.”

And Then, Speaking English...

...again. I remember boy Cummerbund mentioning this when he was pretending to be in charge of stuff and I commented at the time. Remember wot? English lessons. Seems now Savage Javelin has ‘calculated’ that there could be as many as seven hundred and seventy thousand folk in the country who can’t speak English.  I beg to differ and I’d put money on the figure being way, way in excess of a million. There’s our own school kids for a start...

Anyhoo, as Me and her... sorry, her and I have had up close and personal dealings with the UK visa process I only have one question. Actually two as the first leads to the second.

So this is the procedure as I remember it and as this goes back a bit I’m quietly confident the process is a tad harder today. Oh, and there were no exceptions for spouses or family. The below does not apply for six month ‘holiday’ visas although getting one of those can be a run around as well.

To get a two year visa you needed proof of adequate funds, a UK address and a guarantor. Those two years were called a probationary period upon completion of which you were expected to apply for an indefinite leave to remain visa. 

To meet the requirements for indefinite leave to remain, you were required to show proof of adequate funds in a UK bank, proof of a permanent UK address and a pass in the Life in the UK test – go on, have a go; a tad tricky if you can’t read English - or an ESOL certificate. That would be English for Speakers of Other Languages and that required a costly course at a collage providing said course, cumulating in an oral and written exam. Upon passing this you do get a very nice looking certificate from Cambridge University.

Upon application, if you fail to provide one of the above English requirements the answer from the immigration authorities was, sorry, no visa, go home and no refund of application fee by the way. Bu-by.

Thus my first question, again, to whomsoever thinks they’re in charge, is what sort of visa are these non English speakers here on? If it’s a two year jobbie, they should already be beavering away learning English ready to meet indefinite leave to remain visa requirements and there is absolutely no need whatsoever to throw fifty mill of our money at the process. Or they plan on going home after two years. However, if they’re already on a leave to remain visa, how did they get said visa without one of the two English requirements noted above? And that leads to my second question; is there, in fact, anybody up there who knows the visa process? Or could said person enlighten me on the process that granted visas to so many non English speaking folk and how we managed to miss that option? Hello? Seven hundred and seventy thousand child refugees?

Put in its simplest terms, anyone here on a leave to remain visa, by definition of the requirements, can understand and speak English. To look at it from another angle, if Savage Javelin knows the whereabouts of all these folk who can’t speak English, just round ‘em up and send ‘em home as, again by definition, they must be here illegally on many grounds, right?

Further to this, when the BBC broke this money for English language stuff, they went out-and-about, as they do, and interviewed several ladies, all similarly attired in natty one-piece head to foot kit, who all replied to questioning in virtually perfect English. What was that all about then?

For more depression on a wet evening, try Old Righty on how awful our parliament has become. After that, do you really want to get your teeth, or in my case tooth – grinding?

After all that and those two links, I do hope I’m still here tomorrow...

Quote;  Julie Burchill.

“It has been said that a pretty face is a passport. But it's not, it's a visa, and it runs out fast.”

And Then, Charity...

A comment by the good Caratacus made me run a search of my four K memory to find something I remember a young African lady saying so long ago. A lot of wot she said is lost in time and space or washed away on a tide of cheap wine. However, below is a précis of wot I remember. I guess it could almost classed as a parable now.

This lady stated that in one of a group of villages where she grew up, located in darkest Africa, a mother complained to her man that their small children were being unmercifully eaten alive of a night by mosquitoes due to the conditions making the little suckers particularly aggressive - the mosquitoes that is – and insisted he do something before the kids got sick. Seeing all the traditional methods had failed, the fellow put his brain to work and eventually came to the conclusion that some form of net would be of best help. He further figured that this netting would have to have a mesh size so as to preclude the ingress of mosquitoes but allow, for obvious reasons, the free passage of air.

With this basic idea he went to the next village where he knew of a lady who spent time spinning cotton into thread to see if she’d let him have some of said thread. After he explained his idea she agreed to his request on the proviso her family would get a net.

Back in his own village, and after a short period of trial and error, a net was knit and after the first nights use the net knitter’s good lady was delighted with the result. As, indeed, were the kids.

It wasn’t long before requests for nets were coming in and were knitted for various payments in kind - a bit of this an’ a barter for that; a little of which was passed to the thread spinner who in turn passed a little of that on to the raw crop chap.

It wasn’t long before a fellow from the big town, two days walk away, rolled into the village. He’d learned of the nets from a passing traveller and he presented the net knitter with the proposition to supply him with ex number of nets per month for him to sell in the big town for which he’d pay the net knitter with proper money.

Details agreed, the net knitter went to work and soon realised he needed help and thus started to pay, with proper money from his payment, a couple of villagers to help. He also started, much to the delight of the spinning lady, using proper money to pay for the thread.

The knock-on continued when the thread lady found she needed help and started to pay, with proper money, some ladies from her village to help spin up the thread.

She also found she needed more raw product and started paying the guy in the next village for the increase in demand using proper money. This chap discovered he also needed help to keep up with the new demand and started to employ fellow villagers paying them with proper money.

Things were starting to move in an ever upwards direction with all the varied knock-on effects created by so many folk suddenly having money. With this new found wealth flowing through the villages, the village elders started to explore the possibility of getting water piped to all the villages and even a rudimentary sanitary systems.

Then, one morning, the villagers were woken by the sound of loud engine noises and leaving their huts found a huge truck in the road. A white fellow alighted and announced he had a wagon full of mosquito nets. The villagers stated they would not be buying his nets as they already had a local supplier in the next village up the way. At this, ol’ whity happily announced that his nets were being donated by a charity and were already paid for by donations made by gulli... white folk and thus they were all, like, totally free.

Folk are the same the world over and the ‘free’ word hit home and they dived in. Before moving on, the charity chap happily announced that free water, food and clothing trucks would be along over the next few days and then monthly thereafter.

Shortly after this truck-stop, the guy from the big town cancelled his monthly order for nets as the market had, unsurprisingly, dried up. Thus the net knitter had to sack his helpers and shut down. The thread lady did likewise as did the raw crop chap and the elders stopped considering piping and sanitary ‘projects’.

Thus, with this new flow of free stuff everyone forgot their brief ‘golden age’ and went back to doing wot they were doing before. Nothing; other than sitting outside their huts talking about the state of the shithole they lived in while waiting for the arrival of the next truck-load of free stuff.

How does that old saying go? Teach a man to fish? Figuratively, those charities took those folks fishing rod off them and snapped it over their charitable knee.

Far fetched? Free stuff? Pause a moment and look around this country. We seem to have an ever increasing number of food banks, cloths banks and an incredibly generous ‘free’ money benefits system. So generous is it that to live on benefits has pretty well become a life style choice.

Right here, how long will it be before the folk sitting outside their homes, on a nice day of course, complaining to each other about the state of the shithole they live in while waiting for the the mobile food bank to roll-up and the benefit payment to roll-in, will outnumber the folk queuing for the seven thirty bus to work?

Quote; Will Leamon.

“Sooner or later there will always be a cost for ‘Free Stuff’.”

And Then, Feel The Rage...

I noted, was it yesterday? The day before? Can’t remember but it sure wasn’t tomorrow, that Trumpton has created a storm of protest from the usual suspects as he’s, allegedly, called a few places shitholes. Created a shit-storm I guess. And it’s a joy to watch the melt-down.

This got me thinking a little and I’m full sure you good folk will be streets ahead of me but here goes anyway.

Correct me if I’m wrong but hasn’t the charity business and various MSM and TV gimmi-thons being relentlessly telling and showing us for years of the unbelievable plight of folk in far away lands who live in abject poverty and squalor? Usually showing many clips of kids crying with runny noses often sitting in open sewers? Is this not meant to instil into us the fact that they are living in shitholes? Is that not the subliminal message meant to persuade the gullible to part with their money? How many folk watch those ‘heart tugging’ adverts and TV gimmi-thons and think, “Man, that place looks like a real shithole. Let’s give ‘em some money.” Or say, “What a shithole. What’s on the other channel then?”

Then, Trumpton says it as it is, allegedly, and the same virtue signalling snowflakes – and many who should really know far better – are apoplectic with rage with many top folk declaring their countries are not shitholes.

The logical conclusion I draw from all this outrage at these countries being called shitholes is that they aren’t, as we’ve been subliminally conditioned to believe, shitholes at all and thus it follows that the inhabitants of said non-shitholes really don’t need to run the gauntlet for asylum, there’s no need for foreign aid and the charities, bless ‘em, can pack up and refund all donations. Yeah, right.

I confess I’m confused but not, I’ll wager, as confused as the bed-wetters who’s collective heads must be spinning way faster than that kid’s in the Exorcist ever did trying to figure out how to extricate themselves from the mouth before brain bit that’s left them trying to decide if those places should, indeed, be called shitholes and thus in need of all our money, or should not be called shitholes and thus not in any need of any aid or charity whatsoever. Seems the best they can come up with, at time of typing, is to play the ol’ racist card. So there you go; calling a shithole a shithole is now racist.

Trumpton? Man, he’s a cleaver ol’ devil is he not? Well played that POTUS. I’ll sit back, relax and await the next Trumpton inspired bed-wetter melt-down.

Quote;  Grant Morrison.

“Ours is an overpopulated, under educated, shithole in the throes of mass extinctions - it's a wonderful world.”

And Then A Camp Closure...

It’s reported that the Calais jungle is just about closed down and it seems the refugees that are still hanging on in there  are setting fire to their shelters which seems like a plan.

There’s one little mystery relating to many of these refugees that never seems to be questioned by any of the ace reporters over there.

The charity folk, the luvvies, snowflakes and sundry others are always at great pains to point out that if we didn’t bomb these refugees homelands, they wouldn’t need to run away from their countries so it’s our fault. Not sure I’d run to seek shelter in the very country that’d been bombing me, unless I was part of a fifth column of course, but that’s only common sense and a whole different story.

Anyhoo, the camera then usually cuts to a shot of the camp  that shows many young men of African extraction happily playing footy, riding bicycles or immersed in their smartphones and we’re reliably informed that these fellows are the latest arrivals from Somalia.

That’s one hell of a journey and well done those folk say I, but my question to the snowflakes would be to enquire of them if they could tell me when, exactly, did the UK sneak one of our three remaining bombers down there, under the MSM radar as it were, and drop bombs on some sub-rubs of Mogadishu? 
A quick note for younger readers; Mogadishu’s the capital of Somalia and not a new coffee blend on the menu of your favourite, over-priced, chain of coffee shops.

In other news, did you catch the breathless, fearless TV reporter reporting from the ‘front line’ of the battle for some place called Mouse-hole the other evening? He reported that the bad guys were booby-trapping buildings as they retreated and how very dare they, and that these buildings were being “...mined to explode from the underneath.”  Honest, that’s wot he done did say. On the plus side, I guess we now know why they’re called mines...

Quote;  Lewis Carroll.

“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.”

And Then Norwegians...

In and out tonight as I just wish to point you to a good, short read over at The Spectator regarding those pesky Norwegians and all the naughty stuff they’ve been getting up to recently. 

The poor old BBC gets a pretty good, some would say much deserved,  hammering down amongst the comments. One day we’ll know the truth of it all. Lets hope it’s not too late by then and when.

A little Steeleye Span to cheer you up this Sunday evening? Great bad to tap your foot to, were they not. That was how many years ago now? You’re joking! Man, I wasn’t even born ye... Oh, right.

            

Quote;  Dr Seuss.

“How did it get so late so soon?”

And Then, Two Little Problems....

Further to the post the other day regarding free English courses and visas, I see in the paper today it’s come a tad un-glued after the Home Office, yes, the Home office, published the guidelines relating to Mr. Commerbund’s announcement. A bit’s below, copied from the piece in the Telegraph. Spot the problem? Is that a tad sad or wot?

                

Hay, Home Office folk;
1f u c4n r34d th1s u r34lly n33d t0 g37 02t m40r.

This, on top of the red door fiasco, is a bit depressing when you consider what else those at the top are responsible for is it not?

Regarding the red door panic, the best comment I’ve run into, with the usual apologies to the author, JoeSoap, for doing that copy an’ paste thingy, is this little bit of obviousness:

JoeSoap.                
Supposing you lived in an house with a red door, and houses with red doors in your street were being attacked, would your response be:
a/ sit in your house, moan a lot, and wait for something to be done or;
b/ paint your door any colour but red?

Looks like a few more red doors are needed. Do a clicky jobby for some truly heart warming photographs of the meeters and greeters at St. Pancras Station.

You ever get the feeling that being in this country right now is a lot like sitting on a broken-down bus, looking out the window, moaning a lot and waiting for someone to come along to fix it? So you see JoeSoap, in a way we’re just the same as those ‘refugees’ with red front doors; the vast majority of us are just sitting on this broken-down bus,  looking out the window, moaning a lot and waiting for someone else to come along to fix it.

Quote;  Ogden Nash.

“A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.”

And Then A Test....

Did you hear Mr Cummerbund all over the place yesterday talking about the need for all our newcomers to be able to speak English and thus has found twenty mill to enable said foreign folk to do the learning pretty much free?

Her along the sofa certainly noticed as evidenced by the steam gently rising from her head. She’s obviously reflecting on the huge sums, per term, it cost us. Why not? We wanted the ‘leave to remain visa’ and, being law abiding sort of folk, played by their book and did what needed to be done.

Dave started the day saying one thing and obviously one of his minions thought, “Oh, oh...” did a Googly thingy, passed a note to Dave and his later utterances where amended accordingly. From saying all foreign folk here should learn English it changed to, should be tested after two and a half years to check progress{?}. Sadly, even this is missing the mark as a simple Google throws this at ya: 

English Language Requirement

All applicants wishing to enter the UK as a spouse or unmarried partner of a British citizen or a person settled in the UK must satisfy the English Language Requirement. Prospective applications must pass an acceptable English language test with one of our approved test providers unless they can show that:

• They are a national of a majority English-speaking country or
• They hold a degree taught in English

By taking the test, applicants will need to demonstrate a basic command of English (speaking and listening) at level A1 of the Common European Framework of Reference.

Back a good ways when we did it, it went something like this:
Apply at a British Embassy in applicants country for a two year visa. This is not just a matter of rolling up, finding the visa desk and asking for a two year jobby. There are many and varied hurdles and hoops to negotiate. If you get through them all satisfactorily and get through the interview, you get a two year ‘probationary’ visa. {Further visas can be applied for in the UK.}

This gives you two years to prepare for applying for a ‘leave to remain’ visa or, I guess, a five year jobby. Similar hurdles, just higher with far tighter hoops. All a-flame.

Oh, one more thing; get to an approved collage, wait for a place, hand over a wad, learn English, take the exam and get a pass certificate. This, I think, has now been expanded during one of boy Dave’s ‘tough on immigration’ moments, to also require the Life in the UK test.  As a by-the-by, when I try that test on-line, I fail every time.

So Dave, the question is, how did all these non or poor English speaking folk that you now want to teach English at no cost to the pupil but obviously a cost to the tax payer, and thus allow them to pass through the mystic ‘integration’ gateway, get the visa they seem to have been here for so long on in the first place? See the problem there Dave? Before you pop back into your rubber room tonight, figure that one out and you could save us twenty mill and, who knows, possibly thin out the countries head-count.

Today, unsurprisingly, our new bestest ever, perpetually offended, friends are saying how offended they are by this offer. I think it’s safe to say other groups will be shouting, “Free you say? Oh, yes please!” In their own language of course.

To end on a fun note, and I’m looking at you in particular  Ripper, go over here and have fun! Sign-up to download the generated tune. It is of course, JukeDeck. Have fun.

Quote;  Ambrose Bierce.

“Alien. An American sovereign in his probationary state.”

And Then, Good And Bad....

First, and a tad late, some good news. Alex Marsh, the author of the most excellent adventures of JonnyB, through his Private Secret Diary, is back but this time round he be him. JonnyB is archived, for the two of you out there who missed him first time round, and accessible from the site. Kick-off for Jonny was January 2004 – can you believe that?

Now for one of those thingies you just know has to be some sort of a wind-up but, sadly, seems to be genuine. As the saying goes, you really couldn’t make that up. I got there through a link in the comments to a piece by Nigel Mirage over at Breitbart. If you’re surprised the information in that piese is missing from our MSM, wait ‘till you continue a little bit down here the ways.

Are you ready? You sure? No weeping, okay? Okay, put that pointy thingy down – and that drink - and make sure your head’s a safe distance from your computer screen. Ready?Here’s a snippet which is also, very cleverly, the link;
The Swedish state is funding a “sniper” training course for recently-arrived Third World “refugees” as part of their “integration program”...

I wonder, do they get to keep the gun when they qualify as a sniper? And, obviously very quietly, this ‘training’ has already been running for two years. Two years. Is that a plan or wot?  No, really, what could possibly go wrong? Hello? Is there anybody in charge anywhere anymore?

Quote;  Quentin R. Bufogle.

“It takes a good guy with a gun, to stop a bad guy with a gun. Unless the bad guy's a much better shot.”