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The England I
Love,
And Shall Forever Love
By Mike
James in Germany
26 February 2010
While the British people are being led by their easily-tweaked noses
into yet another sham general election in which the choice they make
is severely circumscribed by an evil system of usury and the
prospect of no change in the circumstances of a people befuddled by
decades of sinister, police-state, Tavistock Institute conditioning,
almost nobody is asking:
“For how much longer must we tolerate living in a nation beholden to
only special interest groups, International Jewish Finance, a “Punch
& Judy” show behind which the British Crown’s servitude to The City
of London has prostituted Britons to a life of indentured
class-riddled servitude and without a chance in hell of extricating
ourselves from the demonic Soviet European Union?”
The problem lies in the constitutional make-up of the United
Kingdom, an administrative construct that serves only the obscenely
rich and parasitic classes, and which treats its ‘subject-citizens’
as mere chattels of the Crown, now nothing more than a pimping
agency for the Brussels’ elites who see in the English, Scots and
Welsh nothing more than stupefied ‘white trash’ to be cash-raped
whenever a French bureaucrat feels the need for an inflationary
orgasm.
No doubt the Scots and Welsh will soon enough secede from the now
increasingly irrelevant United Kingdom and go their own way,
choosing instead to scrounge vast subsidies from the European Union
(the long-suffering and equally impoverished German taxpayer)
instead of the equally bamboozled, ripped-off English working and
middle classes. I encourage them to do so. And I wish them well.
Shorn of our obligations to Scotland and Wales, the time is ripe for
a New English Dispensation. I speak not of a ‘Little England’ adrift
as a minor province in the new world order of international finance
and the arbitrary dictates of the European Union and the United
Nations, but of a resurgently vigorous and proudly free egalitarian
republican England.
We, as ordinary Englishmen always tolerated the overbearing
arrogance of those who deemed themselves our social superiors by
dint of birth; for despite their supercilious arrogance and chinless
lack of intelligence, they, the intellectually retarded toffs
educated at Eton and Rugby, at least provided us with a buffer
against the inclinations of international socialist traitors (such
as the Jewish-Nazi Fifth-Columnist David Miliband) to sell out The
Rights of Englishmen.
They served their purpose, made their stash and fucked off while the
going was good. All they have left us with is a family of
intellectually diminutive social parasites who belittle us with
their fantasises of ‘royalty’ and a political kleptocracy dominated
by treasonous system parties, whether Labour, Conservative or
Liberal-Democrat.
The Windsors were never one of our own kind. Held in thrall by the
Money Power that came to dominate British commerce in the wake of
the so-called ‘Glorious Revolution’, a coup d’etat of the super-rich
landed gentry against a monarchical system that was highly critical
of illegal Judaic banking practices, the dim-witted spawn of
sodomised, public-school educated sub-humans who set themselves
above the inherent intellectual superiority of the English working
classes were able to somehow convince good-natured patriots that
they were not the vermin prodigy of the syphilitic Rothschild
spermatozoa.
We, my gentle fellow Englishman, good-hearted and magnanimously
trusting souls that we are, have been taken for fools. We always
gave our masters the benefit
of the doubt. We willingly sacrificed the lives of our children upon
the altar of their blood-lust for greed, profit and power.
Now, my friend, where do you find yourself? Is England a place
called ‘home’; and if this be home, do you kindle by the fading
light of day a candle within the heart of your being knowing that
the light that warms your heart is of a constancy that cannot be
expunged by the forces of darkness?
I have watched you from afar for the 17 years I have lived in
Germany and I cry for you. I have seen you sink into an alcohol and
drug-fuelled culture of sleaze, decadence, pornography, pop trivia
and casual violence: submerged in a tidal wave of mass immigration
and political correctness.
I have witnessed how you lost your senses and grew obese on the
promises of easy credit and gorged yourself upon cheap, mind-numbing
entertainment, abandoning your higher intellectual values and the
ingrained moral integrity that was yours as of right as a
freeborn-Englishman to a corporate parasitic system that pandered to
your ever-growing addiction for instant gratification.
 I
remember you as children, as teenagers and as young adults. You were
never saints, and God forbid that you could ever be so, for it was
always in your nature to be natural rebels. I loved you. I fought
you. You broke my heart, pummelled me to the ground, caused me to
graze my knees, opened old wounds and left me broken and bloodied.
Yet you lifted me to my feet and gave me hope. Your wit and your
laughter raised my spirits to the roof-beams. You were a race of
tough, uncompromising and yet passionately forgiving men and women.
I cry for the England that was lost. Yet I cry more for the England
that can be regained should only a handful of brave men and women
stand up and fight, but of whom there is little to bespeak.
I have travelled the world and seen things that few would care to
experience. I have ventured into unknown terrain and have been
afforded opportunities far beyond what I could ever have possibly
envisaged on the soil of my birth.
Yet I yearn to return to my homeland. My England.
I was raised a Geordie, born on the banks of the River Tyne in
Jarrow in 1959 among a caring and gentle folk and raised, some six
years later on the western shores of fierce and fighting Lancashire.
By the time I reached the age of 25, I had visited and worked in
every nook and cranny of that blessed, any yet sadly accursed land:
The Fylde, London, Dorset, Bristol, Oxfordshire, Yorkshire,
Southampton, Norfolk, Manchester, Essex, Weymouth, Blackpool,
Cumbria, Humberside, Durham, Kent, Devon and a myriad of villages
and hamlets that are to me now simply names obscured by the mists
that enclosed the pastures I spied upon each and every waking
morning.
England in the 1980s had its faults. But I was free. Free to hate,
with compassion, or to love, with abandon. Free to sport a black-eye
for my sins or awake with lipstick on my cheeks for my charms. Free
to be what God Almighty awarded me as the most cherished lottery
ticket in life: a natural-born rebellious Englishman.
I want that England back again.
 An
England free of the impositions of the Soviet European Union, the
all-watching surveillance police-state, the deception and
charade of ‘democracy’ and the two-party (one-party) system, the
sickening and demeaning worship of celebrities and the imbecilic
‘royal’ family, the stranglehold of international usury and the
corrupt banking system, the media-enforced obeisance to the secular
religion of multiculturalism, and the all-pervasive hopelessness of
a people born in God’s Chosen Land
whose urgent wish is to hurriedly leave for distant shores all that
was bequeathed to them as of right.
You think I sit alone in Germany and have forgotten all that was
honourable and decent from the land from whence I hailed? No, my
fellow compatriots, I think of you constantly; sometimes with pity
and remorse, and yet more often with disgust for the level to which
you have allowed yourselves to descend.
At the next general election you will vote for either Cameron-Brown
or Brown-Cameron. Most of you, I hope, will stay at home and
demonstrate your contempt for democracy. Nothing will ever change.
There is not one ounce of national revolutionary blood left in the
veins of the Greatest Race that ever lived. Why is it that My People
have become so comfortably numb?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkJNyQfAprY
You truly are the scum of the earth: the most gullible and naive of
all the European races. Now it is my desire to leave the European
Union altogether.
I fought. I was arrested, sectioned, imprisoned. I made a stand. You
didn’t. And I therefore give up on you.
But I still love you, and always will.
So just shout.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bqgy1mebh8
And I’ll be there for you.
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Michael James, an English patriot, is a blacklisted former freelance
journalist resident in Zionist-occupied Germany since 1992 with
additional long-haul stays in East Africa, Poland and Switzerland.
He advocates a Leaderless Resistance to destroy the Soviet European
Union and is surreptitiously working towards
a free and independent England.
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