1,452 words
London calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared and battle come down
–The Clash (1979)
Forty years ago this month, the punk poet Joe Strummer penned his apocalyptic lyrics, heralding a step-change in the ongoing culture war that has dogged Britain for decades and reduced our nation’s capital city to a multiracial melting pot akin to the Tower of Babel. The city of Chaucer, Pepys, and Wren has been symbolically reduced to a KFC-feeding termite nest of inter-ethnic tribal rivalry, where an alien like Barbara Roche, former Immigration Minister under a Labour government, apparently feels more comfortable. The excessive Rachman-like profiteering of the Conservative leader of Westminster Council, Dame Shirley Porter, the daughter of Tesco magnate Jack Cohen, led to her temporarily fleeing to Herzliva Pituah in Israel during an inquiry into her controversial conduct – where, by the way, she later founded the Porter Centre for Environmental Studies at Tel Aviv University.
But these firestarters are merely the tip of the iceberg. Far greater and long-term damage has been inflicted by a succession of characters like Ken Livingstone, a committed hard-Left socialist supporter of the IRA who encouraged the Brixton branch of the Black Panthers to join the Labour Party in 1968; Boris Johnson, the former Mayor of London and now resident of Number 10 Downing Street, whose step-grandfather was Zionist Federation President Teddy Sieff, and who appointed Priti Patel as Home Secretary; Sajid Javid as Chancellor of the Exchequer, a committed Muslim who was sworn into government office on the Qur’an and visited the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem in 2019; and, of course, Sadiq Khan, the intellectually as well as physically diminutive current occupant of Mr. Johnson’s former exalted office who has been linked to Suliman Gani, a fundamentalist who openly calls for an Islamic state in Britain.
Each and every one of these characters facilitates such ignominious spectacles as the calypso-cavorting Afro-Caribbean Carnival in Notting Hill, where rapes, muggings, and drug-dealing run rife on an annual basis, and throngs of worshippers fill Trafalgar Square at Eid to pay homage to a psychotic pedophile. These denizens of destruction surround themselves with race-hustling acolytes like Bernie Grant, who was a council leader when the 1985 Broadwater Farm riot took place, and where PC Keith Blakelock was hacked to death with a machete, saying, “What the police got was a bloody good hiding!”; Lee Jasper dished out Greater London Authority grants to his black friends; Diane Abbott, the Shadow Home Secretary, a woman who takes every opportunity to try to establish legal safe routes to flood the United Kingdom with low-IQ welfare dependent Teflon-faced people resembling herself; and David Lammy, who attempts to weaponize every failure of his community to enter Oxbridge, shake down compensation for the Grenfell Tower inferno, or the facetious Windrush Scandal by joining Baroness Doreen Lawrence of Clarendon, mother of the long-remembered and much-lamented Stephen, screaming racism at the top of his voice!
And since the Blair government’s secretive open borders policy between 2000 and 2009 – an act revealed in quite intimate detail by his advisor and speechwriter Andrew Neather in the London Evening Standard in 2009, in which he said London was a “magnet for migration,” and an act described by Lord Andrew Green of Migration Watch as a “conspiracy” perpetrated against the people of this country – the problems have only accelerated.
These are the fulfillments of Strummer’s hyperbolic prediction:
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girl
78 percent of London gang members are of Black or Afro-Caribbean heritage; 6.5 percent are Asian (predominantly of Pakistani, Indian and Bangladeshi origin); and 3 percent are Arabs or Middle Eastern. Even Trevor Phillips, former Head of the Equality and Human Rights Commission, admitted that despite the media scrupulously avoiding all mention of the ethnicity of the perpetrators, the overwhelming majority of those committing knife crimes are Somalis, Ethiopians, North and Central Africans, and Afghans. Then there is the Albanian mafia, which runs the cocaine trade through ports like Rotterdam into Harwich or Hull; the predominantly black Peckham Boys presiding over TV comic legends Del and Rodney’s South London “Manor,” and the Tottenham Mandem controlling whole council estates in North London; the Pakistani, Bangladeshi, and Bengali crews like the Brick Lane Massive in the East End extending their rule out over Redbridge, Waltham Forest, Newham, Ealing, Brent, Hounslow, Barking, and Dagenham; and the Tamil Snake Gang in Croydon and Wembley.
These subcultures are more representative of Jamaica, Somalia, or Liberia than the leafy lanes of Dulwich or Blackheath village. The whole diversity circus is being cheered on by media-promoted gay icons like Graham Norton, Sandy Toksvig, Alan Carr, Sue Perkins, and Rhona Cameron who no doubt fully endorse LGBT lessons in primary schools and the distribution of the Trans-Inclusion Gender Toolkits in schools in Merton and Wandsworth. Meanwhile, Cressida Dick, the lesbian Commissioner for the Metropolitan Police Service in London, and Neil Basu, the head of counter-terrorism in the UK, stoke fears of supposed Right-wing terrorism whenever the opportunity arises, even when over 95 percent of terrorist acts since 2000 have been committed by Muslims.
London calling, now don’t look to us
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust
London calling, see we ain’t got no swing
Except for the ring of that truncheon thing
Besides supporting the PC police, the British tax payer is expected to pay around 140 million per year for migrant detentions. Parliament, greatly assisted by the speaker of the House, John Bercow, the descendant of Romanian Jews named Berkowitz, has totally abdicated their responsibility for fulfilling the mandate provided by 17.5 million voters to proceed with Brexit; reneged on the numerous commitments of both leading political parties to halt or reduce immigration; and enacted increasingly restrictive laws that restrict the expression of negative views about the multicultural project, which is in effect population replacement on a grand scale. This in itself results in thousands of arrests and police warnings about online hate crimes every year.
Meanwhile, we are subjected to the hourly spectacle of having to listen to the ever-shy and retiring mud-blood Meghan Markle commenting about social injustice from her taxpayer- funded luxury home, watching as she stares imperiously down in a Stella McCartney black-belted boulia coat from a balcony above the Cenotaph on Remembrance Day while history is rewritten. Now we are meant to believe that Commonwealth troops from as far afield as India, Bengal, and the West Indies outnumbered young white volunteers on the battlefields of the Somme, Passchendaele, and Marne – something that impressionable 16-year-olds could be forgiven for thinking given the BBC’s Dunkirk series, which purports to be a docudrama and portrays half the British Expeditionary Force trapped on the beaches in 1940 as being composed of black troops. This is now gaining traction under the meme “Remember Together” – regardless of nationality, creed, or color – conjured up by a think-tank called British Future.
The BBC and other mainstream media outlets singularly fail to discuss the Earth’s population explosion, particularly in Africa, and the environmental degradation that is being caused by the mass movement of people as major contributing factors to global warming. They prefer to instead glorify Greta Thunberg, the Lara Croft of the Venus-loving vegans, and create a media “safe-space” for Extinction Rebellion activists who focus on the West’s contributions to the environmental crisis but fail to discuss the Chinese, Indian, and African governments’ flaunting of the UN’s environmental protocols in their mad rush to overtake the developed world as the economic powerhouses of global economic growth. The consequences of this are seen in the thick smog hanging over Beijing, New Delhi, and Sub-Saharan Africa. Recent headlines in Left-wing newspapers tells us that the poor, asthma suffering-orphans in India should qualify as environmental refugees.
This is an argument that socialist seer Strummer, author of such classics as “London’s Burning,” “English Civil War,” “Know Your Rights,” “Bankrobber,” and “Guns of Brixton” hints at in his verse:
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growin’ thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
‘Cause London is drowning, and I, I live by the river
This prophecy was made against the grainy black-and-white imagery of the band playing the opening track from their 1979 double album, floating on a Thames barge while Strummer barks out his vehement vocals into the sheeting rain as the song slowly fades out with a series of bleeps, created by Mick Jones’ guitar pickups and spelling SOS in Morse code.
London calling to the imitation zone
Forget it, brother, you can go it alone
London calling to the zombies of death
Quit holding out and draw another breath
London calling and I don’t want to shout
But when we were talking I saw you nodding out
London calling . . .
39 comments
Accept the dissolution, it’s too far gone and there is nothing to be done about it. Tear down the remaining decay and build something new… for us.
Correct analysis – we must preserve what we can ‘in memory of former greatness and our traditions’ and build afresh upon a decontaminated land!
Best
FS
“And build afresh upon a decontaminated land!”
That to say the least is the difficult part. Where is the will and determination to achieve that noble goal?
Dear Bronco Colorado,
The first stirring of a renaissance of patriotism on this side of the Atlantic was the Brexit vote – I am hoping the next stage will be focused on British/European identity ! From small embers we (activists, writers, idealists) fan the flames of pride in our history and culture. The torch is lit and must be passed from generation to generation.
Best Wishes
FS
Dunkirk is not in Normandy; it is Nord near the Belgian border.
Good point! I have traveled there with work many times and missed that in my hurry to get the article submitted. Do you contribute to the site? I had a relative who fought in the rear guard there (in Dunkirk) and was later ‘freed’ from a POW camp by the Bolsheviks and marched halfway across Siberia because his surname sounded ‘too Germanic’ to the Reds.
Best
FS
I’m an unsolicited, unpaid occasional fact-checker it seems. Interesting synchronicity: UK Media is abuzz today about a stabbing in broad daylight at London Bridge in the heart of the capital. It has caused chaos with a full security state turnout of militarized Met police sealing off an area by the river.
Neil Basu, the supposed head of anti-terrorism’ in the UK is ‘keeping an open mind about the motivation for the attack’ – the media will no doubt play the well-worn mental illness card!!!
Best FS
This post is so blazing and so spot-on about what is happening in England! I’ve visited 3 times in 5 years, staying in Sheffield with friends, where I can see the problem first-hand, though not the crime because I restrict myself to daytime hours, but now you have told me everything I need to know about what I am seeing! How can our own people be so insane as to allow this in our green fields of England and all of Europe? I love your description of ‘mud-blood Markle’ and ‘Teflon-faced people’ — brilliant! Your descriptions of this whole mess is exactly what needs to be said!
I’ll brave the ‘black Friday’ crowds to go buy a printer today because this post must be kept forever with my hardcover books from C.C. I’ll now look up all of the ‘players’ you’ve mentioned in this drama so I will have a proper scorecard next summer to sort the news when I’m in my little corner of England.
Dear Alexandra,
It is because there are people like you that there is hope for us still…
With courteous Regards
FS
A few weeks ago, one of the UK papers ran a review of a book of photos taken in the 1970s-early 80s on the London Underground. Looking at the photos made me happy and sad at the same time. Row upon row of white English people going about their daily lives. Old and young, male and female, working and middle class. As the photos got into the early 80s, you would see an occasional black in the background. But still, almost all white! Not that long ago! I was a kid at the time.
I’ve been to England several times over the last 20 years. I dont spend much time in London but have been there. It was majority white when I went in 2002 but was losing its English feel. I see some pics of London now and it is the opposite of the early 80s. Sea upon sea of hijabs and Muslims in silly clothes along with numerous blacks. Only the occasional hapless white in the background of photos.
I felt for that white woman about 5 years ago who was caught on tape talking about “what the hell happened” to her city (she was the only white on the whole train). I also remember some news show in the late 80s or early 90s doing an interview in a London pub. A middle age guy matter of factly noted how blacks and Muslims were swamping his neighborhood (it might have been the East End) and said that they fought for the wrong side in WW2.
Dear Bernie,
I saw something similar about Paris – Read my debut novel The Partisan – reviewed on this site back in 2014 – it is time for Charles The Hammer’s return !!!
Best
FS
All that was admirable about the old Britain is gone, other than a way with words that still arises from time to time, such as here.
What’s left is at most a horrible example for the rest of the world.
Dear Pretzel Yardstick,
It’s not over ’til the fat lady sings – and I ain’t giving up on Britain, Europe and the white world until I draw my last breath – there is no room for defeatism but there is space for acknowledging reality – hence the delicate balance in my articles between hope and trepidation. I suggest you listen to some of the speakers at the recent Traditional Britain Conference (with many guests from Sweden, Germany etc) and The Patriotic Alternative (Mark Collett et al). There is also a brilliant piece of footage of young French girls from the Nemesis Feminist Patriotic Alternative challenging a bunch of Third Wave Feminist zealots at a protest in Paris by carrying banners and placards saying it is immigrants who are disproportionately represented in official French rape statistics – look at the determined defiance in their young eyes as they are scolded by the anti-patriarchal harridans on the street. In that alone there is hope !!!!
Best
FS
Fenek,
More power to you, and you’re right that black pilling serves no useful purpose. I think it’s game over, but I’m not in Blighted Britain so I don’t have the whole picture. To turn the status around it’s going to take a heroic campaign against long odds.
Hi Pretzel,
Britain was (and can be again) populated by one of the most martial people in the world. “There will be no surrender to the Reds or the Money Lenders – come on and follow the Patriot’s Call !”- Ian Stuart Donaldson.
Best
FS
The English are back in the shires from which they came. Winchester was Alfreds capital…London or Westminster were the Normans.
Forget about London. We will prevail.
Dear Sussex Yeoman,
I admire your spirit and share your defiant enthusiasm. But I will not give up one single inch of this country or share the city of Pepys, Boswell, Johnson et al with anyone (unless invited). We will indeed prevail and the Old England of yore will be returned in all its glory to the people of the four countries, counties and shires!
Best Wishes
FS
Exploiting a song by a Scottish Armenian & a descendant of Russian Jews who were pro immigration to spread anti immigration views? Funny that.
Dear Jenna,
A poor man’s Bob Dylan without Zimmerman’s nasal whine and catchy turn of phrase…
FS
The folk song ‘Streets of London’ was penned and recorded in 1968 by Ralph McTell, who appears to be of British working class origin. The song is a powerful indictment of how the British establishment treats those who in the past served their country well.
Dear Bronco,
The British establishment (vipers one and all) have treated our veterans and serving soldiers appallingly and in terms of recent conflicts have sent them off (just like the US army) to be maimed, scarred and killed in the interests of foreign and alien interests. I pray that one day they will pay the price for their abhorrent treachery and willful deceit…
Best
FS
Well did you see the old man
Outside the seamen’s mission
Memories a’fading with the medals that he wears
And did you see the old man
Outside the seamen’s mission
He’s just another hero from a land that doesn’t care.
– Streets of London, Anti-Nowhere League.
Performed in the 80’s as an anti-establishment tune. Nowhere’s are today’s anywheres (as per David Goodhart).
.
Dear Nine of Clubs,
Very apt mention of a popular folk song – the beggars are too often ex servicemen suffering post conflict traumas – while illegal and economic immigrants are housed in luxury hotels or warm and comfortable Council flats at the tax payers expense
Best
FS
Until white Brits en masse take up arms without asking permission from the government, they are doomed
Dear Joshua,
First we win the culture war. Violence at this stage only plays into the hands of those who seek to enslave us.
Best
FS
The Clash were an anti-fascist punk band. They weren’t pro-white, they were pro-human.
Dear Joe,
I think that is made abundantly clear in the article!
Best
FS
This, while Clapton was raising concerns about England becoming a black colony and Bowie was expressing his admiration of Fascism, the Clash were being the typical boomer antifa cucks who would really just wish everyone stop worrying about migration, please.
Dear Vauquelin,
The article is certainly not pro-Clash (if that’s what you are getting at!). I am fully aware of both Clapton’s outburst on stage about ‘blacks’ and Bowie’s controversial salute outside a certain train station.
Best
FS
Yes London is defiled, perhaps irredeemably, but the heartland of England, the true England, though not unscathed, endures — for now.
The ‘ethnics’ used to keep out of the countryside on the grounds that it is ‘boring’ and ‘full of inbreds’ (unlike the strongholds of the cousin-wedding ‘British’ Muslims). But of late they have become bolder, running hard drugs, illegal migrant labour and child prostitution into the towns and villages of the Home Counties and beyond.
Added to this is the pressure on housing from immigration-driven population growth. The incomers do not understand how the native English can revere the countryside: to them is is simply empty space where housing estates, fried chicken outlets and mosques could be constructed for their convenience.
What would it take to rouse the English from their torpor? What would be too high a price for the boon of ‘diversity’? Not the rape of their daughters it would seem. Will they shrug at the destruction their vaunted green and pleasant rural demi-paradise?
Dear Wehmgericht,
There is an old saying that when the English ‘turn’ they really ‘turn’ – I am hoping we see a 180 degree correction to the current situation – so that some of the injustices/insults you describe/refer to – are answered in full!
It is true that we now see insurgents in our national parks and running drugs through the ‘County-Lines’ system into our rural towns and villages. The clock is also ticking on the demographics in our larger cities – but I am still hopeful – It is always darker before the dawn.
Very Best
FS
Long, babbling read ahead if you can be bothered:
This is a topic which cuts close to the bone for me. Imagine you have been brought up to be respectful to strangers, no matter their caste or ethnic background. Imagine you move to London at an impressionable age. You end up in a borough with a very heavy slant towards non-indigenous peoples, but still expect to be able to get on as you have done your whole life, as why not, surely all the people in this country understand the same values you have been brought up to believe in? Naïve. You try to make small-talk with your Bangladeshi neighbours, they look at you like you are a nutter. You never once get a word of greeting from them when passing each other on the street despite trying for months before giving up. You make friends with people from other ethnic groups, it feels like the right thing to do, and it’s interesting to know Black people in real life having been a fan of hip-hop music in your formative years, but not having any around growing up. After some time you find out your white friends, when coming to visit, are subjected to racial taunts from groups of short, ignorant south Asian youths who hang around your area. Female friends being in particular a target of jibes and harangues. You have white friends, or know of others living nearby, who have been robbed, burglarised, and near-fatally stabbed. Trying to access information at the local council offices, you are treated as a low-priority, being a healthy, young white man, you aren’t warranted any compassion or decency by the south Asian council staff behind the bullet-proof glass partitions, most of whom are speaking Urdu or Bengali to other Asians.
As you grow older you notice that the whole city is becoming more predominated by Black, south Asian, Pakistani and who-knows-what people, just an obscure, bizarre melange. Even south Americans seem to be allocated social housing and welfare services as a priority over native people, proper 5ft tall south Americans who look like Mayan statues. How the hell did they get here? What right to reside do they have? Confusing. You realise at some point that walking into your local chain supermarket you often only hear the staff talking Urdu to one another. Sometimes the staff members are not even wearing the company uniform any more, they just wear normal street clothes. You notice that Blacks have started using Airbnb to host animalistic, riotous parties for themselves in ‘central’ locations (central as opposed to the outer boroughs they call home), making even the areas normally priced out of their income bracket feel unsafe. There are stabbings on your street occasionally. You walk past a pool of congealed blood from the last one, and after two days it’s jet-washed off the pavement, but the stain still remains there. It’s a common experience to be following a trail of dried blood down the street, drop by staggering drop. All day long you can walk about the streets of your neighbourhood and hear hardly any native English accents in the passing crowds. The feeling is vertiginous.
Your friends try their best to ignore it all, to be ‘safe’ with the local Pakistani or Turk running the corner shop. They can’t countenance criticism of the degraded state of everyday life for fear of feeling themselves stray into an area of thought which makes them profoundly uncomfortable. Some even profess to ‘love it’. The ethnic friends you made all those years ago have grouped up into a little clique, and do ‘Black’ activities together, and sometimes they seem to be whispering things to each other, and don’t include you in the conversation any more. They even start to call your other friends ‘racist’, though you have all known each other and been ‘on their side’ from the start. Then you realise the feeling was not reciprocated, in any way. The association is one of concession on your part. Zero return.
Trying to comprehend the totality of the loss is an implausible feat. Your life has changed entirely within ten years, not just from growing up, the entire superstructure of the world around you has been torn to pieces and reconfigured. For years it has been common for you to turn a corner and find a building you knew seemingly forever has suddenly become a hole in the ground, with hoardings around it touting new ‘luxury living’ apartments. You hear stories that these buildings have separate entries for poor people. That seems ridiculous. Then three new apartment complexes near you are built with exactly what you had been told about, a door for the poor, down a grotty alleyway around the back. The poor people who move in are all brown… You have lost the war you never knew you were fighting. The money power turned the city you thought was the most fascinating place in the world into a zone of despair. Every day is a defeat, just to be outside of your bolt-hole is excruciating and feels like a punishment. So you go out only as a necessity, taking safe routes and quiet passages to get to and from the destination as quickly as possible. The rivers of blood are surely imminent. You plan your escape.
Your life has lost all its purpose, having been built within the city, around these friends, the opportunities that used to be so full of potential; none of this is worth saving. Get out. You drop connections long cherished. People you would have given your life for are lost, forgotten. None of them see it. They are under the thrall of the machine. Grist to the mill, trapped in a binding agreement with hedonic abandon and avarice. The buildings keep going up, workhouses for the expanding soul grinder. Get out. You find solace in a quiet part of the country. It’s fine, no social life. No matter. Better than all that which you long felt was dead. All the phantom gains made in the city. But a trickle is turning into a stream, the ex-Londoners, coming in to the quiet. They leave the city in body, but in mind this place is ‘not right’. It’s lacking the vibrancy, the gusto of big life with its artisanal coffee, the vegan bakeries, jazzy restaurants you have to queue outside of. All the essentials. And of course, it’s too white here. Their thinking is London thinking. Undigested Guardianisms. Then… then the ‘refugees’ appear. 6 kids in tow. How did they get here? This place is nowhere. Then the Africans appear. Stark, like coal against the snow. How did they find us? Then the farmer’s fields become little box houses, and, one after another, it’s just the same mindless crush. Waiting for death or exhaustion, to assume its place for the right price.
This is all true. And i’m very sorry for it. It must be playing out the same way across any number of cities around Europe. The spiral is a death spiral unless some drastic occurrence can rouse people from their slumber. I was hoping Brexit would help here by causing the collapse of the economy, leveling the field a bit, but that was another naïve dream – there’s too much invested in this country, too much at stake for the right people. Brits need a cause to rally them, and the only one with truth behind it, that could be our salvation, is explicitly denied to us. The hand of the law is against the people like a dead weight. I’ve run out all the options in my mind, it’s dismal. The country is too tiny to sustain this situation for much longer. We have to find a way to transmute the poison before its too late.
Dear Bluto,
Your response is a breathtakingly accurate dissection of my own experience. A city I lived and worked in for years brought to its knees within a single generation. Only last week I went to see friends in Southgate and traveled by tube from Finsbury to Hyde Park and could only count a handful of real Londoners in the whole carriage. The perfumed scent of a wealthy few intermingling with the fetid sweat of The Ganges and the Niger Delta. The echoing refrain of Enoch Powell’s infamous Rivers of Blood Speech running through my head. The pungent odour of Pakistan wafting in from the East End.
Best
FS
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