I was always very close to my grandmother as a child, after my parents’ separation. I suppose I always regarded her as my mother.

My grandmother was a simple soul, working class, hard working too but proud, independent and I think the kindest person that I ever met. She lived with my grandfather in a council house in a civilised street, the street was full of hard working, friendly, proud and patriotic people. These were people that struggled through a world war and not only survived but they never even complained about the hardship: these things they would gladly endure for the good of their country.

The street was always spotlessly clean, the gardens neatly manicured by people that were proud of their home and their country. Happy memories for me – and I now realise that without my grandmother’s kindness and guidance, well, I don’t know where I would have ended up.

As I grew older, whenever I visited my grandmother, I noticed the street changing little by little. There were some unsavoury characters living nearby, the street developed a rough element but I reasoned that these people had to live somewhere. We certainly had enough of our own unproductive people to accommodate, those that made a living by selling stolen goods and peddling drugs: but then the immigration started in earnest.

The friendly white faces that I had known since childhood started to disappear, to be replaced by those with a totally different and alien culture. I’ll just say that this isn’t necessarily a racial issue but the Third World countries that most of these people come from are very polarised, there are plenty of rapists and criminals on the streets of these countries. We’ve unfortunately been very lax about who we let into our country: any debate on the matter would bring cries of racism, any discussion would be very effectively stifled.

After my grandfather died, I was worried about my grandmother. I asked her to send me her electricity and heating bills so that she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping warm in the winter. She thanked me for my kindness but simply would not do it, she was too proud and independent. She struggled but with her wartime spirit she battled on, always strong minded and immaculately turned out.

As I got older and was often overseas, I saw less and less of my grandmother. It was my father that told me of her real struggle – she tried to make sure that I didn’t know about it. One particular day, my grandmother left the house for twenty minutes to shop for some groceries. By the time she returned home, her front door was smashed down and her television gone.

By the time my grandmother lost three or four television sets, she gave up replacing them, she had to continue her lonely struggle without even being able to watch the TV and she was scared to leave the house. I find it hard to imagine what my grandmother went through – a clean living, kind and gentle person: this was her reward.

The Police did nothing at all to protect my grandmother. I hatched a plan to visit my grandmother late at night so that nobody would see me arrive, then I’d lie in wait while she went shopping. A policeman friend of mine was horrified and told me that they’d lock me up and throw away the key if I did this. He told my father who stepped in also to prevent me from doing this. Now as I look back it is one of my biggest regrets that I allowed these people to deter me: it won’t happen again.

My grandmother refused to be driven from the only home that she’d known for all of her married life. She finally left to go into hospital where she died. I miss my grandmother and recently had a look at her old house on Google Earth. There was something about her once immaculate garden that just didn’t look right and so I phoned an old friend that lives not too far away.

My friend told me that the street where my grandmother lived is a place where no sensible white man would go now: black, violent and crime ridden – just like the slums that I’ve seen all over the Third World. The media constantly tells us that we have a housing crisis and our health and social services are overloaded and on the point of breakdown. Hardly surprising as we’ve given these things away to people that will gladly accept our hard earned money and services but – as is becoming increasingly apparent – hate our guts.

As our children are sexually groomed and women raped by those from alien cultures, people that just do not live by the same rules and standards, our cities and culture destroyed: it’s becoming hard to see where Enoch Powell was ever wrong.

Here is a video where Enoch Powell talks about some of these issues. Along with Nigel Farage, he makes the case for our independence.

I swear that every word that I’ve written here is absolutely true. When I watch the above video and many like it, I struggle to see any instance where either Enoch Powell or Nigel Farage were ever wrong.

So, here then is a snapshot of our country today. We were told multiculturalism was so enriching and beneficial but the depth of these lies are becoming increasingly apparent. These things are only beneficial to those that are consumed by the cult of globalism, institutions like the European Union and United Nations: it seems that these are just as dangerous to us as Adolf Hitler and the Nazis ever were.

Labour, Conservative or even sometimes a little bit Liberal: this is the sum total of their efforts. One could be forgiven for thinking that they were all on the same globalist team. This is a problem in a supposed democracy, where we elect politicians to represent we the people, people that have never given a mandate to cede political power to foreign or supranational third parties.

 

 

Photo by garry.woollaston@btopenworld.com

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