A Vital Trade

We thank you, O great British mother
(And trust that our thanks are enough),
For giving the world yet another
Consumer to squeal for more stuff.

We thank you for all new meat plying
Meat's route (though it's sometimes a chore)
To rot via breeding and buying:
God knows we can always use more.

Patty Rishon

Exceptional Circumstances

British prosperity creators in the vicinity of the Persian Crusade are showing their staunch Blitz spirit by fleeing to the European Union; although a few of them have said they will condescend to take up residence on the mainland provided the Government lets them dodge their taxes for another couple of months. Despite the Persian Crusade having been operative for all of a fortnight, Team Starmer has so far shown little sign of caving in, even though it would require little more than a change of wording in the travel advice issued by the Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets. Meanwhile it is to be hoped that opponents of the Persian Crusade are appropriately grateful, since they have escaped general denunciation as traitors, antisemites, useful idiots, or minions of the mad mullahs precisely because of the unusual inconvenience which this particular Crusade is inflicting on wealthy tax dodgers.

Their Ways Are Not Our Ways

Someone has rammed a Michigan synagogue complex with a vehicle, driving into the hallway with apparent intent to set off explosives. As it turned out, only the attacker was killed; but the Trumpster has nevertheless called the incident a "terrible thing," perhaps because of reported fire and smoke damage to the real estate. The attacker was a US-naturalised Lebanese whose brothers, niece and nephew were recently pacified during the latest cleansing operations by the Righteous State. It is possible that the attacker, for his own obscure and barbaric reasons, regarded this as a terrible thing and, like Jehovah and His humble servants in the United States, believed in collective and indiscriminate punishment.

One Day They'll Thank Us

Team Starmer's administration was elected on a manifesto of change and, true to form, is altering our great nation's foreign policy to something meaner than that of the Conservatives. Where the National Johnson cut the aid budget from an extravagent seven-tenths of one per cent of GDP to a merely princely five-tenths, Team Starmer is cutting it further to a moderate and sensible three-tenths of one per cent. The latest achievement in this noble enterprise is the closure of a project supposedly meant to guard against future pandemics and to invest in those African countries from which Britain habitually poaches cheap and expendable health workers. As one would expect, the money thus rationalised will be spent on wog-bombing, thereby helping to reduce the number of indigent foreigns relying on His Majesty's Government's largesse.

Slow to Mercy

The values that made America great are being tested in the Christian state of Alabama, where the governor has commuted a thirty-five-year-old death sentence, apparently on grounds of neatness. The beneficiary and his accomplice were both condemned for the murder of a customer during a robbery, although only one of them actually did the killing. The perpetrator's death sentence was reduced on appeal, so the state governor felt obliged also to reduce the sentence of the man who wasn't in the building when the shooting took place. It certainly comes to something when the Christian state of Alabama can refrain from gassing a nigrah even when the nigrah didn't commit the crime.

Almost No Safe Haven

After only a couple of years or so facilitating and conniving at war crimes and crimes against humanity while tutting with mild disapproval, the great British state has gone about demonstrating its moral mettle in the manner one would expect, by placing a beastly foreign on trial for war crimes and crimes against humanity. A sometime Syrian colonel is charged with murder and torture insofar as these fall within the jurisdiction of the great British state, which seems to have concluded belatedly that the alleged miscreant is less an expatriate than an asylum seeker. Whatever else the nation may have sacrificed in supporting the Gaza cleansing and the Persian Crusade, it has clearly lost nothing in the way of comic timing.

Out of Temptation's Way

Christian Britishness has come over encouragingly ecumenical, with Catholic piety neatly complemented by Protestant thrift. Beneficiaries from the Church of Rome's houses of penance for unfortunate mothers and their unholy offspring have been receiving worldly compensation from the Irish government; but the mainland has mercifully intervened to claw back at least some of the filthy lucre with corresponding cuts in social security benefits. This dose of British decency has led a number of reformees to proceed unto the next life without letting their souls be burdened with excesses of treasure on earth, and the Department for Workfare and Privation is now carefully considering the matter. Given the likelihood that we will all have to tighten our belts in aid of the Persian Crusade, there seems every chance that virtuous impoverishment will be allowed to continue bestowing its spiritual graces.

Mental Strife Redux

There is no such thing as inclusive patriotism. The term is an oxymoron. At best, patriotism is a membership badge: look at me, I'm in the Churchill Club! At worst, it's a driving power behind the combination of megalomania and self-pity that characterises the Trumpstersphere, the Farage Falange and all the rest of the master-racers, ghetto-builders and Other-bashers. One can have good reasons for adopting it, as when a small nation seeks to differentiate itself from an imperial oppressor; but since patriotism itself compels us not to view England, let alone Britain, as small or subordinate to an empire, such stunts as this look all the more fatuously hypocritical. The idea that one can usefully debate a burbling incoherence, as the Blairites tied themselves in knots doing twenty years ago, is very nearly as ludicrous as the hope that one might somehow impose nuance on thugs by having a less heated debate over who's Out and who's In.

Free Money, No Commitments

Where depth has no value, scum can sometimes have its price; and recent defections from the Conservative Party to the Farage Falange seem to have prompted a bit of a revaluation. One of the migrant squillionaires who runs the strutting Caudillo has declared himself no longer interested in an electoral pact between the Farage Falange and the least popular of its major imitators; presumably because the remains of the Conservative Party would constitute an electoral asset almost as buoyant as the CEO of Team Starmer. The squillionaire in question has in the past provided some pocket change to help the National Johnson with his P45, and has donated several squillions to the Farage Falange under at least two of its several aliases. Nevertheless, the squillionaire is one with the strutting Caudillo in proclaiming loudly and clearly that he requested nothing in return for his spontaneous and disinterested generosity. Whether the strutting Caudillo was told rather than asked, or whether only a nod or a wink was required for the necessary understanding, is of course a matter purely for their private delectation.

British Bastion Bought By Boche

It could hardly happen to a more deserving newspaper, or at the expense of a more satisfactory loser. After three years of turmoil precipitated by the Barclay family's financial indiscretions, the Waily Toryguff has been bought by a company of beastly foreigns, and Euro-wogs to boot, which has edged out a competing bid from the Rothermere Daily Stürmer. Apparently the plan is to turn the blithering old rag into the "leading centre-right media outlet" among the English-speaking peoples; which will of course require a substantial move leftwards, not only from the Toryguff's current wallowing-grounds but from almost the entire mainstream of the British press. The new owner's acquaintance with the mainland's media scene is slight enough that the company's chief executive can refer to the Toryguff as having something to do with "quality British journalism;" so it is devoutly to be hoped that buyer's remorse can be sufficiently postponed.