Counter-Currents
2,018 words 
Doctor, Heal Thyself
England has produced some iconic fictional characters. James Bond, Sherlock Holmes, even Harry Potter; all are recognizably and pleasingly of English stock and lineage. Sadly, 007 is going woke, and the franchise has just been bought by Amazon, which seems unlikely to halt the death spiral. Sherlock Holmes’ trusty aide de camp, Dr. Watson, is now black, as those casting famous English characters now have the same choice concerning actors as Henry Ford gave concerning his motor-car: You can have it in any color you like, as long as it’s black.The Harry Potter franchise seems to have stayed reasonably white and heterosexual, but has joined in the culture-war fray by virtue of the cast of the movies attacking the creator of the series, J. K. Rowling, for her principled and very public stance on gender.
Now, though, one of the great English fictional creations is under threat, that great Time Lord and eccentric, Dr. Who. I was a great fan when I was a boy – as all boys of the time were – the series being almost as old as I am. I looked up the date it first aired and it seemed eerily familiar; November 23, 1963. Perhaps the first Doctor, the elderly William Hartnell, might have wished to go back a day to Dealey Plaza and warn JFK to keep his head down. For those familiar with the ever-changing faces of the Time Lord who went on the run from his home planet, my Doctors were Hartnell, Patrick Troughton (my favorite, and the one who actually stole the TARDIS from Gallifrey), Jon Pertwee, and Tom Baker, before I became distracted by punk rock and girls (and, indeed, punk rock girls), and drifted away from the series.
It was hugely popular. Dr. Who began its life as an educational project for schools, the idea being to teach children about history by having a fictional character with the power to travel through time, visiting important past dates and events, like H. G. Wells’ time machine but with a test at the end. When the BBC realized its popularity, a national institution was born, with viewer ratings setting records for a children’s show. Why, then, after over 60 years at the top of its trans-temporal, intergalactic game, has Dr. Who just recorded its lowest viewing figures ever? I wonder if you can guess.
Britain’s cultural commissars have but one aim: to despoil anything that the indigenous white British might enjoy. Dr. Who, of course, was ripe for the picking, and the series’ long chain of transmogrified and now-despised white men was brought to a halt in 2016, when the Time Lord became a Time Lady. The 13th Doctor turned out to be unlucky for the viewer, as woke, feminist storylines dominated and ratings duly tumbled, but more had to be done. So it was that the Doctor became both black and gay, a double strike at the heart of the program entirely appropriate, as the Doctor himself has two hearts. This seems to have done the trick, and has resulted in the record-breaking viewer stampede from the series noted above. Excuse my grammar, but who knows who the next Who will be? Might I suggest the great Welsh actor, Sir Anthony Hopkins? I would prefer a Doctor Who who ate his enemies’ livers to one who whined his way through propaganda about capitalism and racism, both very good things.
The actor currently in residence in the TARDIS, Ncuti Gatwa (one of those names that looks like an anagram), has registered his displeasure at the low viewing figures and threatened to quit, doubtless instructed by his agent to blame audience distaste on racism and homophobia rather than the fact that this formerly loved series is now, to use a technical term often employed in the visual media, shite. Being young and black, he obviously has a career waiting for him in negrophile Hollywood, and that is where he is rumored to be going. Bye, black boy, and thanks for effing up one of the greatest sci-fi series ever. Don’t let the Daleks exterminate you on the way out.
Talking Trash
I recently saw something here in Costa Rica I had never seen before, and it quite shocked me. At the end of my road, on a grass verge, someone had dumped a mass of old bedding: foam mattresses, twisted sheets and bedlinen. There was far too much to bag up, and the mess stayed there for three days, soaked by rain and presumably quite heavy when it was finally moved. It was an alien sight in a country whose people are proud and respectful of their environment. In my home country, however, this type of wanton and callous disfigurement of the places people live is commonplace.
What is known in the UK as “fly-tipping” shows something of the state of modern England, and this video is not cherry-picked. I have seen many just like it. At around 4:00, you will see what I mean; mounds of rotting rubbish, old fridges, bedding, and all the detritus of a modern throwaway society piled on residential streets in some of England’s most famous towns and cities. These are streets where children are supposed to be playing, not some recreation of African or Balkan squalor. The British did not used to live like this and did not used to tolerate this piglike existence.
Theodore Dalrymple (whose real name is Dr. Anthony Daniels, and is a charming man I have had the pleasure of interviewing via email) is perhaps England’s greatest living essayist (and one of the best ever, in my view) and wrote a book over a decade ago titled Litter: The Remains of Our Culture. The title is possibly a play on that of an earlier book of his, Our Culture, or What’s Left of It, and this is his literal answer; litter.
Dalrymple stresses the obvious point that this toleration of public garbage indicates national self-hatred and a lack of anything resembling a sense of the responsibilities of communal living. But he is also an astute observer of cultural semiotics. Viewing litter as a breaking of social – and therefore informal and non-legislative – rules, the good doctor (who would actually make a good Doctor Who), writes the following:
Being the expressions of social power over the rights of individuals, such expressions of power are the means by which sectional interests defend their patch and control everyone else. Informal rules are not so much the lubricant of social intercourse, as the means by which one group dominates the rest.
This is astute, and I have seen it at first hand in England. One of the many jobs I have had was that of a council gardener in London. Me and my pal would turn up at a council estate, clean up the rubbish strewn across the lawn area, cut and trim that lawn and the desultory and unnoticed rose bushes, and generally make things look good again. Then we would come back the next week and find the same area covered in trash, including spoiled food (to attract extra vermin to add to that already living there) and babies’ nappies, or diapers, filled with what they are designed to be filled with. The offenders were usually Eastern Europeans. Apologies to any Eastern Europeans reading this, but my experience of your people abroad was that they themselves were trash, human trash. Dalrymple is right. People throw litter and befoul their living spaces because they wish to mark their territory, like a dog pissing on a gatepost.
I don’t have too much virtue to signal, but I have never knowingly dropped a piece of litter in my life, although I have picked up plenty. In England, though. Never here in Central America. There is no need to do so, the rare fly-tipping noted above notwithstanding. The Third World, at least here, tends to be cleaner than the First.
Quick! Call the Thought Police!
The British police are increasingly being compared with the old East German Stasi, the secret police whose job was not to catch genuine criminals but to intimidate and silence ordinary people who spoke out against the Communist regime. I doubt this is an entirely historically accurate comparison, as I don’t imagine the Stasi employed agents as fat and slovenly as many British police officers seem to be, but their essential function is roughly the same. Putin worked as a Stasi operative, and was at one time a handler of the Baader-Meinhof Complex, a fact I apologize for not mentioning in a piece I wrote on Baader-Meinhof here at Counter-Currents. But back to Blighty.
The Greater Manchester Police recently paid a visit to a 54-year-old woman on their patch, as the police used to call the area which they policed. They wished to interview her about social media comments she had posted criticizing local councilors from the governing Labour Party. But she wasn’t criticizing their performance in their jobs, but rather comments some of them had made on a WhatsApp group comprising colleagues. A complaint had been made, explained the nerdy copper jabbing at the entryphone. By whom? the lady asked. We can’t tell you that”, replied the gimpy copper.
There have been a number of these raids recently, mostly on women, as they are easier to intimidate and bully. To clarify, this woman was visited by police officers because she had criticized government officials who had made comments many would find objectionable. The police attended in a way they would not have found time to do had the lady in question been burgled or attacked.
In today’s England, less importance is given to what one does, resources having been allocated to policing what one says.
Watching the Welsh Dragon
As Association Football is to Latin America and cricket is to India, so too Rugby Union is to the Welsh. This might explain the long faces in the valleys, as the national team is going through something of a slump, currently bottom of the table in the annual Six Nations Tournament. But people have their governments, and so the Welsh rugger fan can be confident that something will be done to help these ailing, wailing sons of Gower.
Welsh rugby as been chosen for the initiation of a new government initiative that is sure to raise those famous male voices in reverberation once more. A new – don’t governments just love “new” things, like kiddies at Christmas? – AI program enabling face recognition is being tested in Wales, and the watchers of the failing and flailing national rugby team have been chosen for this test-run, like Taffy Guinea-Pigs. The choice of a Welsh rugby crowd to try out this new surveillance tool is interesting because it is difficult to imagine a whiter audience anywhere in Europe. There are not that many blacks in Wales, aside from Dame Shirley Bassey (famous for singing not one but three James Bond themes in the pre-woke days) but, wherever schwarzes are on a Saturday afternoon in Wales, they are unlikely to be watching international rugby at Cardiff Arms Park. There are black players (the current English skipper is as black as your hat, but like all professional male sports, rugby is a genuine meritocracy) but no real representation in those watching a clash of titans.
But surveillance is not really aimed at blacks, and white privilege strikes again. The UK government is not particularly interested in snooping on non-whites, and this is because they are integral to their program of anarcho-tyranny by virtue of a winning combination of anti-white animus and a greater propensity to commit crime (particularly violent crime) in comparison with their unfortunate white hosts. We are watching you, whitey.
Don’t You Be Late for that Meeting, Keir
At the time of writing, Prime Minister Keir Starmer is due to have a meeting with President Trump. Starmer wants a war like Thatcher wanted the Falklands War, to improve his parlous standing. The best reply 47 could give this bumptious upstart is what we English used to call “a bloody good clip round the ear.”
England, my England. As was.
The Union Jackal.
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24 comments
Marketing department Meetings across the UK circa 2003:
“I know! We need to expand our consumer base! Here is what we will do. Africa has a billion on deck. It will take too long for Africa to raise its living standards if they ever even can. But, if we import them and give them sinecures and low end jobs their standard of living comes today.Voila! New consumers flush with cash. Then, we can re-package British culture with maximum efficiency. Make the characters black, and the blacks will adopt them as their own and spend a lot of money on it. We do have a brand we can already leverage!!!!
Brilliant. And, we can also remove privilege from those stupid whites and humiliate them at the same time. We’ll force them to see their dispossession in real life and in the movies. Amazing thinking Amanda and Mkeikikolulu. Amazing and brilliant. Stunning and brave!
Enjoy your bonuses!!!!”
Britain’s cultural commissars have but one aim: to despoil anything that the indigenous white British might enjoy.
Aardman Animations (based in Bristol) is the latest. For years, I couldn’t get enough of their short and full-length fabulously funny clay animation stop-motion creations. A tiny bit of political correctness has been sneaking in here and there of late, e.g., minor characters such as the south Asian mayor in Wallace & Gromit The Curse of the Were-Rabbit (2005), and white man & black woman eating in a restaurant in Shaun The Sheep (the movie – 2015), but otherwise, Whiter than white! No, these films are not just for children. Everyone loved them. The dozens of 5-minute shorts of Shaun The Sheep are particularly charming and humorous.
Not anymore, folks! Netflix-funded Vengeance Most Fowl is outright anti-white, anti-male and not a very good movie in other ways, just kind of a dumb plot, as if they’ve lost their direction. A black (or south Asian) young female cop (just starting out) ends up in no time flat as Chief of Police after the ugly old white chief retires. She saved the day, you see. Lots of nonwhites.
Aardman’s stop motion shorts and films have been much loved for years, and now this. To me, it’s like the end of the world. As of 2024, a woman (previously with the BBC) has been put in charge of just about Everything at Aardman.
Many, many betrayals over these years, but blax in a Wallace & Grommit film really feels bad, man. Gross. Is there nothing these savages respect?
flukey stokes and related trash. Not so much respect but fear, truly fear, brutal violence ready for wielding and the ‘Ima gangsta’ shit will tearfully cry for mama.
I think it’s pretty funny that Flukey’s murdered 28 year old son was known as “The Wimp.” Laughing crying emoji for sure.
Yes, blax are cowards. They tend to attack in groups and when a white man confronts one of them one-on-one (without his homies to witness him) they always will back down. Take note.
Mega dittoes! I absolutely loved Wallace & Gromit, especially “The Curse of The Were-rabbit”. It was the first W & G that I watched, and I thought it so clever and cozy — and clean, to continue the alliteration. This was pre-Red Pilling; and even back then, I gravitated, subconsciously, towards all things implicitly and explicitly White.
I absolutely refuse to watch a bastardized Sherlock Holmes. Jeremy Brett was almost supernatural with his austere, expressive face, in the 1984 Granada Television series. Nothing could improve upon his portrayal of Holmes. The (1984 – 1994) TV series seems to be 99.9% White in casting. The only non-Whites are those that were described as such in the original source material (the incomparable Arthur Conan Coyle).
Sad. I’ll do my usual thing, but the list of works I simply pretend don’t exist keeps growing and growing.
Just stick with the originals! 🙂
As much as I admire the style and depth of Mr. Gullick’s analyses, I never understood how, in so many descriptions of what his beloved England has once been and what she has become now, there is never any hint to the reasons of this spectacular decline.
The cool, white British becoming suddenly crazy without reason?
I don’t think Gullick obsessively hates Jews as much as you do
Rock and Roll, baby. We turned our collective backs on our culture and the rest is history.
Sorry Mr Gullick, but James Bond, per Fleming, is of Scottish and Swiss lineage. He serves the Crown as a loyal subject, but he is not of English stock.
At this point, the Bond villain presses a button, and I fall through the trapdoor of shame to be devored by piranhas.
I am, as the internet kids say, “laughing out loud.” Thanks for being a good sport.
I highly recommend Millennial Woes’s many-part series on the strange death of Dr Who. Have you read it sir?
I haven’t read it, but I like that guy, and he is a great friend to CC. It is appalling to think of the future of those who regret these life-changing decisions.
With all respect, what do you mean by “it is appalling to think of the future of those who regret these life-changing decisions?” Are you talking about detransitioning trannies? Bc yeah they’re pretty screwed man.
I was a huge Doctor Who fan when I was a kid, although as I’m a few years younger than our Jackal, my Doctors were Tom Baker, Peter Davison, and Colin Baker. Plus I managed to catch all the earlier ones in reruns, which were a common feature on American public television in the 1980s. And I also read many of the novelizations, which was what you did before you could get everything on video. But for me, the series ended with the end of its initial 26-year run, in 1989 (which was an impressive record even if it hadn’t been revived).
Doctor Who didn’t only become woke with the casting of diverse Doctors, however, but has been from the start of the revival in 2005. Admittedly, the first season with Christopher Eccleston was fairly okay, but it didn’t take long for the LGBTQWERTYUIOP and non-white companions to start appearing, not to mention debates about pronouns and criticism of those who didn’t properly follow social distancing rules during COVID. I still find it unconscionable that they’ve also introduced hanky-panky between the Doctor and his companions, which (rightfully) was always a big no-no in the original run. Millennial Woes has done a good job of documenting the Doctor’s decline over the past 20 years.
Although for me the worst thing about the Doctor Who revival — and this has been going on since I caught the 50th anniversary broadcast in 2013 — is that the storylines are incomprehensible to me. Whenever I happen to watch an occasional episode to see how the show I used to love is faring, the plots are so convoluted and self-referential to other aspects of the new series’ lore that I have no idea what’s going on, and it all seems far too boring for me to take the trouble to figure it out, anyway. Perhaps I’m just too old now and the series’ intended audience think it’s great. But with the original series, anyone could watch an episode and understand what was going on without having seen everything that had gone on before. I know, because I started watching the series many years after it had premiered and had no problems.
Some have speculated that the BBC is eager to finally axe the show again, and that they knew casting a black Doctor would put the ratings in the toilet and thus give them a pretext to do so. Maybe it would be a mercy killing at this point.
Nice to read your comments again, John.
Wasn’t there a white nationalist organization in Britain at one time called the “British Front” or something like that? Whatever happened to them, I haven’t heard anything about them in a long time.
The National Front still exists essentially in name only. It has ceased to contest elections and what few members it has are mainly elderly. They stage an annual Remembrance Sunday event in central London which for the last few years has attracted slightly less than twenty attendees. It is now not unlike another British organisation called Friends of Mosley a vestigial grouping that emerged from both Oswald Mosley’s pre-war and post-war movements; to be honest, it may well be that FOM no longer exists – members of the British Union of Fascists 1932 – 1940 will no longer be alive and the youngest Union Movement (1948 to circa 1973) people will be well into their eighties.
I presume the gay black doctor no will travel back to Egypt and confirm what we all know and that’s the Egyptians were black and brilliant. He could stay close to home and confirm brilliant blacks created Stonehenge too. And built pyramids in Mexico. If only our history books could be corrected?
The names are more failed anagrams like omotolo akimmnuoyele or nneah djibuwale whose afrowifi couldn’t quite get thru. Elbow neatly rearranges to below, players to parsley, even santa to satan. Not with them. This negro “englishman” would be welcomed with open ass by hollywood at the next DEIversity self-pity awards.
I take it back, don’t randomly confront solo blax, you might still get shot. Stay safe and have white children. FML
Stasi was primarily a counter intelligence agency. It was also staffed by germans and didn’t have a racial component.
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