The Union Jackal, August 2022

Posted By Mark Gullick On In North American New Right | Comments Disabled
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A self-portrait by Flemish painter Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641), whose work has been deemed too beautiful by the National Museum of Wales such that cardboard boxes have now been placed in front of it.

2,418 words

Royal Air Farce

As seasoned military historians will know, many of Britain’s Royal Air Force (RAF) pilots during the Second World War were Polish. Today, however, those plucky air aces from a country that historically has been more warred against than warlike (and so know how to defend like furies) would find no place for them in the RAF, and they would be unlikely to get their wings not because of any aerial incapacity, but because they are the wrong color.

The RAF have taken a bit of a break from hiring white men, [2] and the public sector in general is sounding like an eerie echo of the sign often seen in rental properties in Britain’s inner cities in the 1950s and ‘6os: “No coloureds, no dogs, no Irish.” Only now it’s “No whites,” and it’s the RAF and not a bed-sitting room in Walthamstow.

Of course, this is a racist, exclusionist policy which is both gathering pace and not confined to the RAF, whose members famously pronounce the acronym as though it were a noun — as in “raff,” as in “riff-raff,” and as in what the air admirals clearly think white men are.

If the Battle of Britain were to be fought today, the Spitfires’ camouflage would be compromised by the rainbow livery they would be forced to wear; pilots and ground crew would be warned against calling the Luftwaffe ­the Hun, Jerry, or Bosch for fear of causing offense and being “branded racist” (now more serious than treason); and comic-book fighter pilot Biggles would have to display his personal pronouns on the cockpit of his “kite.”

This is the point at which journalists generally write, “But, joking aside . . .” But if you do that, what are you left with? A disgusting betrayal of “the Few” immortalized by Sir Winston Churchill, the risk that putting sub-standard flyers up there in planes considerably faster and more lethal than Hurricanes would inevitably entail, and proof if proof were needed that Great Britain is no country for white men.

Women are, of course, also to be the beneficiaries of the creeping crawl of equity. But given that “woman” is a word now defined by ideology and not biology, that essentially means anyone who says they are a woman can reach for the skies. Indeed, a transgender “woman,” particularly a black one, would have a considerable advantage at the interview stage.

The only white male Second World War pilot who might have, as it were, stood a chance of joining today’s RAF would have been Sir Douglas Bader, who didn’t let a little thing like losing both legs in an aerobatics crash in 1931 stop him from retraining as a pilot in 1939 and going on to shoot down 22 enemy aircraft and probably more, as some were unconfirmed. He would, of course, be accepted nowadays because of and not despite of his disability.

Uncivil Service

You can sense when there is a British election in the offing because Conservative politicians who are nothing of the sort start pretending they are. Granted, this is not a general election, but Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak have made it to the Conservative Party’s leadership election penalty shoot-out (with Truss the favorite to win), the victor in which becomes party leader, and therefore by default, Prime Minister. There will be much muttering on the Left — and therefore in the media — about the new PM being unelected by the voters, but only by those who don’t fully grasp the British constitution, which would be more or less anyone on the Left, who don’t tend to do knowledge.

The party with the most seats in Parliament is the one whose leader has to stroll round to Buckingham Palace and ask Her Majesty if they can form a government, and that remains the case with a mid-term handover of power. It would be a marvelous end to her reign if this time Queen Elizabeth II replied to the incoming PM, on being asked if Royal permission were being granted to form a government of the nation, along the lines of, “No, you bloody well can’t. Now bugger orf, you oily little tic.” We can all dream.

But if the United Kingdom’s ruling party changes leaders between elections, they are quite entitled to do so. The Tories could elect David Beckham as leader if they so wished, and he would be PM. British readers will remember Gordon Brown taking the helm from Tony Blair. Or perhaps you would rather not, and I apologize for spoiling your day.

But the seasonal gesture from “Tories” to try to shell-game the British electorate into believing they possess even one strand of conservative DNA is par for the course. Primary candidates in the United States are currently up to the same type of thing, with Democrat hopefuls telling everyone in their nauseating campaign videos about how dumb an idea they think Biden’s student debt forgiveness is, despite the fact they almost certainly voted for it. Good luck with that, by the way, American economy. The words straw, camel, and back leap to mind. Essentially, it means many people reading this will be paying off the Gender Studies degree for a man you don’t know, but who has a girl’s name and a curious hairstyle.

But back to the UK. Liz Truss, who clearly wishes to be the new Margaret Thatcher in the same way Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson wanted to be the new Churchill, has promised to trigger the infamous Article 16 [3] within days of her taking over captaincy of the Titanic — sorry, the Edmund Fitzgerald; sorry, the country — and to reform the notoriously Left-leaning civil service, the minions who put into effect whatever fever-dreams are dreamt up in Cabinet meetings at Downing Street.

So the Civil Service has preempted the likelihood of Truss clearing out the woke stables by going on a hiring spree [4] intended to safeguard and even boost the diversity and inclusion jobs the likely next PM is targeting, or is pretending to target. Woke is not an academic fad any more; it is government policy. I have pointed out in prior episodes, probably ad nauseam, my belief that the UK’s current dysfunctional death spiral (and that ofthe West as a whole) is intentional, and a malevolent hybrid of two flowers of evil: Sam T. Harris’s anarcho-tyranny and Russian defector Yuri Bezmenov’s four-stage program to destroy a nation from within. Diversity and inclusion are key components in this toxic mix. Hopefully, the Civil Service will follow the lead of the RAF fly-boys/girls/don’t knows and stop hiring white men.

Black mischief

Marvel comics. Lost in Space. Sneakers. Tom & Jerry. The electric guitar. Sense a connecting thread? All of these were American imports into the UK which lit up my childhood. The US of A used to glow in the dark for us when we were kids. Britain was, to a certain extent, as black-and-white as it looked in the movies, while America was the Technicolor land of cultural razzmatazz, and we wanted it like we wanted ice cream. Sadly, today, not all imports from Stateside are as welcome.

Oxford Street is London’s Fifth Avenue, and is where people come to shop — or, increasingly, shoplift. Footage — can you still call it that? — of a pack of kids openly looting shops [5] (which is what the British call stores) in Oxford Street went what the young people call viral. That is quite appropriate in this instance, as what we are watching resembles a virus, and one which is spreading rapidly.

The “youths” are, it almost goes without remarking, black, and their target is an interesting one. The main store swarmed in the video is called Candy World (another Americanism, as the British still call candy “sweets”), and the spirited young tearaways are therefore not attempting to liberate electronics to sell at a profit. Then, what are they doing stealing candy? As is almost always the case, they are dressed in doubtless expensive clothes and training shoes (another American import we could do without, except for purposes of training) and so can obviously afford candy. What they are doing is showing the rest of us that they can do what they like with a word they wouldn’t understand: impunity. The police, naturally, did not attend the fracas, undoubtedly busy choosing outfits for the next pride march. Also, since George Floyd died resisting arrest thousands of miles away from London, British police have been reluctant to get tangled up with blacks. Justice, law and order tend to take a back seat to protecting your job and pension

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You can buy Mark Gullick’s Bestest Boys here [7].

Meanwhile, Nottingham was the legendary home of Robin Hood, but this is more robbin’ in the hood. [8] A video of another gang of urchins stealing from a Nottingham McDonald’s (the less said about that American import the better) prompts the same question: Why bother? The answer remains the same: because they can, and it shows who has the power.

This will escalate as feral blacks and the white teenagers who mimic their “dress sense,” accent, and behavior will become emboldened by the lack of police interest in their attacks. There will be a lot more of this. The workers in the establishments attacked will do nothing, and why should they? Why risk getting stabbed for minimum wage? I have myself seen areas of London where black kids are the predators and everyone else the prey, and that was ten years ago. Now, the wildlife just got wilder.

Go south, young man

The Scots are invading England, but these are not tribes of fierce and blue-painted warriors led by Mel Gibson. What Scotland now has in common with Albania is that they are both sending their unwanted to be rehoused by the ever-generous English, who everyone hates right up until the trash needs taking out.

Scottish First Minister Nicola Sturgeon, who Nigel Farage named as the “single most unpleasant leader I have ever met,” [9]  has said publicly that there will be a “national initiative to ensure every council has the homes they need and to guarantee the legal rights of everyone in Scotland to a safe home if they find themselves homeless.” When any politician uses a term such as “national initiative,” then, as they say in the Mafia movies, you know someone’s going down. And they are. Down to the Auld Enemy across the border. [10]

It seems harsh that, as well as ferrying the contents of the Maghreb and Albania across the English Channel to despoil Kent’s countryside before mooching on to London to join in enthusiastically in the capital’s thriving drug trade, England may now have to put up with the roving and erratic drinkers of Glasgow — because this is what Sturgeon is mooting — but it serves to prove a point which should not really need to be proven again.

The mainstream media are always accused by the dissident media of hating Britain. This is a scurrilous misrepresentation. England, yes, but all the other tacked-on bits get a pass. The BBC only ever uses the word “England” if they have a bad word to say, but Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland are hallowed turf.

To their immense credit — and they have always appeared to me to be a worthwhile and non-partisan charity — Shelter [11] are the ones sounding the warning bagpipes. It is pathetic when charity workers are the ones informing the rest of the populace about government policy and the governments themselves have nary a word to say on the matter. Nevertheless, Scots without a roof over their red-thatched heads will presumably be singing, “Ye take the high road and I’ll take the low road and I’ll be in England afore ye.”

Ticking the boxes

The National Museum Wales (NMW) is, like all good national archives, partly an art gallery. And some of the paintings hung there are so wonderful, such perfect examples of the Western — and therefore white — artistic tradition of oil and canvas, compared to some of the rather more contemporary and often disgusting textile surfaces artists favor today, that they must be subverted and made ugly. Naturally, then, this is what the NMW have gone ahead and done.

I had no idea who Anthony van Dyck was, but the faithful Internet informs me he was “a seventeenth-century Flemish Baroque artist,” and that sounds good enough for me. He is unlikely, one comfortably assumes, to have made his art using tampons or urine. In fact, he was a landscape and seascape painter, and a painting of his showing Wales’ Caernarvon Castle [12] hangs still in the NMW. The problem is that you can’t really see it as well as you used to be able to.

The reason is that another artist, Carwyn Evans, has had an “installation” of thousands of self-assembled cardboard boxes (“installation” means “non-art,” by the way) placed right in front of the painting. You can see Evans’ genius at work here [13]. I’m no art critic but, like a pedestrian in San Francisco, I know shit when I see it and try my utmost to avoid it.

One of the cardinal rules for the progressive is to despoil anything beautiful, and the reason is that it is usually the produce of white people. Ugly is the new beautiful.

It’s just their culture

If you know anything about the so-called “grooming gangs” in Britain you will also know two things: that those gangs were and are Muslim, and that the epicenter of their atrocities is a horrible northern town called Bradford. If you haven’t read Peter McLoughlin’s Easy Meat you should, although it is a tough read.

It seems appropriate, then, after its name has passed into the vernacular, that the city of Bradford receive some sort of national accolade. And so it has. Britain always has a “city of culture,” in place for a year and supposed to represent the best the nation has to offer. Bradford will wear the laurels in 2025. [14]

It’s perfect: British culture will be represented by a city which should be best known for gangs of misshapen golems [15] whose DNA is Pakistani and Bangladeshi, clearly the result of first-cousin marriages, and who have systematically raped thousands of white schoolgirls. Pakistan and Bangladesh are two of the world’s most disgusting countries. How nice that Britain is culturally appropriating from such leaders among the nations.

Here’s to the monarchy!

The Union Jackal

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