EU national governments care little about their native populations; that must be getting clearer as each day passes. So keen are they to trumpet the European project and strut the world stage that the ancestral folks of those countries are dismissively overlooked. Any protest by them about immigration is met with accusations of xenophobia and racism. But these wretched ‘leaders’ are not the ones who will daily have to tolerate the consequences of their actions or live with cultures which in many ways are alien and instinctively hostile to us. It is as if I entrusted the keys of my house to a friend only to find, upon returning from holiday, all manner of undesirables and squatters had been allowed in. No consultation, no consideration for the impact it would have on me, no thought or say whatever. So it is with Britain, my home, and it is our government that is giving away the keys to it.

Another 330,000 newcomers to the UK now contribute to the 8,000,000 foreign born among us. Africa and the Middle East are in turmoil and the population is on the move. As we watch the drama and the tragedy unfold we see their target is Europe and, in fleeing from their plight, thousands of hopeful migrants are making uninvited landfall on the Mediterranean shores of that continent. Hundreds more perish in their quest; drowned at sea, asphyxiated in bilges, decomposed in lorries, crushed by trains. Given the poor calibre of Europe’s ‘leaders’ and institutions, it is little wonder that these people see an easy chance of a better life. In particular Germany, with its recent history, now feels structurally unable to say no to them and is about to take 800,000. That is more than the population of Frankfurt-am-Main, Germany’s 5th largest city. As if attempting to erase its past it now seeks to be the migrants’ champion and to emulate the words on the Statue of Liberty:

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Mark well some of those words, Germany, but if that’s what you want to do, you must live with the consequences and without moaning. You may find this strange, Frau Merkel, but a number of us in Britain still care about, and are mostly proud of, our long history, distinct culture and the eccentricities which make us who we are. We have no intention of Britain being subordinated into your vacuous European folly nor yet become a vilayet, worse still a mere sanjak, in a new Ottoman Empire. This is an invasion: it is destabilising, threatening and surely unsustainable. If it continues for much longer we will soon not recognise the Europe we once thought we knew. Have the people of this continent no say in this?

The Conservative party once bred lions like the Elder and Younger Pitts, Palmerston, Churchill and Thatcher. These were strong decisive leaders with a clear, patriotic vision plus the will and means to see it through. It also produced the likes of Neville Chamberlain who, anxious to avoid taking a stand and hoping desperately the problem would go away, opted to appease rather than oppose. And from that mould we now have our current prime minister. While he body-surfs in Cornwall does he ponder whether the tide of opinion could be turning against him? Fresh from that ‘democratic’ travesty of an election, need he care? As for what Labour and the LibDems have to offer…

I am not a European, I don’t want to be a European, I have never felt like a European and this wretched EU and its antics make me even more ashamed of the continent to which is it now our misfortune to be anchored. Oh, to cut through the tentacles that ensnare us and threaten to strangle us. Oh, to be free to make our own way in the world again.

We need someone who truly cares about this country. While the mainstream politicians freeze in the headlights of the oncoming threat, only one party wants to save us from disaster. If you care about this country, as I do, there is only one clear choice; VOTE UKIP.

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