WHY DON'T THE WHITE WORKING CLASS MATTER TO PROGRESSIVES?

Which of the following have had the most effect culturally, socially and politically:

1. The Steven Lawrence murder and its subsequent bungled investigation?

2. The Jimmy Savile horror-story?

3. The Harold Shipman mass murders?

4. The industrial-scale grooming and mass rape of young white girls in cities like Rotherham, Telford and Oxford, by gangs of overwhelmingly Muslim men?

It’s a rhetorical question, since number 4 is still met with accusations of racism and ‘far Right’ tendencies, for making the obvious link to Islam. Numbers 1 to 3 resulted in full judicial enquiries and massive national soul-searching, with many specific changes made. Above all, the background causation was never questioned. But not one politician - and few in the media - dares to make the obvious point on number 4: it is due to mass Islamic immigration. As Clive Matelas has so doggedly and bravely reported down the years, it's all in the Koran, whose word is inviolable and unchangeable: raping non-Muslim women and girls is permitted and those doing so can go to paradise, if they remain faithful to Allah.

Unless and until the existence of this appalling message is sayable - and teachable - the horror will continue. Girls need to be taught the dangers of Islam, at school. And we need to vet all Muslims in positions of power, for their allegiances. There has been obvious judicial and political corruption, both by Muslims and by Labour politicians chasing Muslim votes.

The Oxford scandal was ongoing (and probably still is) during my time teaching. I saw the effects first hand, as a teacher just outside the city. Zero discussion amongst staff, except tighter controls on tracking pupils through the day. Nothing on the appalling child protection issues, despite teachers' vital role in spotting things. Less than nothing on the ideology behind this abuse and the risk posed by men following that ideology. To have even mentioned this would have resulted in disciplinary action - I was threatened with such, for doing so.

We need to be honest. The link between Islam and child abuse/grooming/abuse of women is scriptural and thus omnipresent. That doesn’t mean all Muslims will commit such crimes, but the ideology of Islam certainly sanctions them.

The effect can be hidden in statistics, something the progressives and especially Mark Easton of the BBC have gleefully done. But if statistical significance is the approach:

1. Do we ignore serial killers because the vast majority of murders aren't committed by them?

2. Why was any notice taken of the Steven Lawrence murder and its investigation - a single appalling crime? Why was some systemic cause sought for police/judicial/societal failings?

3. Were Harold Shipman's crimes dismissed since 'the vast majority of doctors don't kill their patients'?

4. Ditto for other medical killings - which have dominated the news and been the subject of huge political, judicial and media debate, about the causation and the failures to spot offenders.

5. If there was widespread gang rape of Muslim Pakistani girls by white English gangs, would the dismissers be similarly reluctant to discuss ethnicity of the criminals and causation?

All of the above - when contrasted with the constant prevarication and deflection on Islamic mass rape - tells us everything about the problem we face. The cause cannot be acknowledged, since it shows the folly/crime, of multiculturalism. This has occurred under a deliberate policy of ‘diversity’ and record uncontrolled immigration.

The dam has in some ways broken, following Musk’s tweets about the appalling Keir Starmer. As DPP, he ensured that any who made the links I have were hounded and sometimes imprisoned. His record is shameful. The latest approach is to accuse those raising his abject record of ‘politicising’ the issue. A ridiculous point, from a buffoon who endlessly parades his record as DPP. Apparently, the far Right are ‘exploiting the issue’ and that’s enough to make it a taboo. Even if that were true, how does it in any way either negate the crimes or the need for a full enquiry?

The most important point is why this horror was a taboo, to discuss. How have we allowed this alien ideology such a grip, at a terrible cost to thousands of vulnerable children? Needless to say, if middle-class girls had been targeted in their tens of thousands, this scandal would never have occurred.

So class is behind how our establishment enabled this - especially the simultaneous loathing yet ownership progressives feel for the white working class. Above all, the dismissal of working class feelings about multiculturalism and diversity as inherently uneducated and dangerous, in contrast to the progressives’ ‘sophisticated’ and ‘informed’ responses - based on experiences at a safe distance, as opposed to being gang-raped. Again, that lofty dismissal is something I saw first hand in teaching.

Apologies for reposting the following piece. I wrote this semi-fictional sequence on the worst mass crime occurring in England during my lifetime, with little children knowingly sacrificed on the alter of progressive ideology:

PRESENTS FROM MY BOYFRIENDS

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PERMISION TO WRITE

---

Can I write an epistolary novel

on this pale working-class girl

groomed like an estate princess

with Primark’s luxuries then raped

in a circle by men of faith who offer

bargain booze when it’s over then

drop her by an empty shopping centre?

---

Of course not, the subject isn’t allowed.

You ask is that fair? Study their culture.

Britain’s rapacious rule of India where

a diamond was taken. Don’t bother me

with innocence, such natives have none.

---

Summer days when she swung up for the sky,

pushed by those who loved her and let her fly?

---

Just read my report, there’s nothing to say.

You fester in anger as this story drifts away.

---

I worry if my daughter with a penis which

swings between her legs will ever play

football that's not ridiculed or swim races

leading the pack. You want other concerns?

Which pronouns go on badges, how to address

students who are trans in Year 7 plus bipolar

then develop global-warming phobia when

a dealer gets killed in Minnesota or wherever.

---

I’m studying in my spare-time. I read

Times' articles – two in Nature – and now

wear masks everywhere, including my car.

Such girls spread it vaping or in their tears.

---

DAYS WITH DARK WATER

---

Prose is too viscous, but I cannot paint;

my words will have to work. I saw her first

going in and out of shops, cars, buses.

Nothing to note but there must have been

something or I wouldn’t be writing. Maybe

it’s not how people stand, but in the way

they move from place to place, skittering,

showing nowhere feels safe.

---

Flitting’ is the word I wanted.

Tuneless whistling of a delivery man

summoning her like some sad bird to

its rattling cage bars. Absurd to have

such fancies, but she tottered around

his van then hopped in the back.

---

I’ll write my first letter:

---

Dear Young Lady who Flits,

---

How odd to address you as such!

I must not rush; this may be my

only chance. Stay slow and calm,

I’ll keep telling myself.

---

I fear you’re in danger;

you already know it.

Notice how I used a

semi-colon there as

I was once a teacher.

---

Men from the east are

crueller than any even

you may have met. In

a local garden centre

---

I bought a paperback on

the Mongol conquests.

I’d recommend The Works –

it’s not just for true crime or

books of different horoscopes.

---

I don’t think those migration

Issues are from the past.

There is grooming and it

will have happened to you:

---

Days with dark water, summer,

but overcast, some gardens –

Derby say – by the wide Derwent.

You were Year 8, friendship issues,

so you walked on your own by

the open river, after school

on the last day of term.

---

Then in an abandoned house

on a dual carriageway?

The outskirts of all towns

in England have one.

---

Gaunt, high walled,

some barbed wire,

planks for windows.

Cars speed by yet

no one ever stops.

---

No one could see what

happened so I'll let my

imagination run wild.

---

Will you write back

and say you're safe?

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YOU ONCE KNEW

---

Dear Sir,

---

I say this as you were a teacher when I hardly did much school. You

write like I’m a sad child but it’s me in charge and you are surely

a paedo? I found some dumb poem by you about a place like that

river where I got caught. I don’t regret it now. It’s always too late:

---

Like a place you once knew but were seeing

somehow for the first time, washed clean in

clear sunlight without your worries. Be still my

memories, those permanent blocks; sudden

is the word needed for anything now entering

this field of view, be it birds or slight movement

in a tree by an empty sky in the late day’s blue of

impossible clarity, holding neither cold nor warmth.

---

I don’t think it’s no good but might be and would make no

difference. Not to you and certainly not to me. You could get up

and sing about me in some pub. Either no one would listen, or

everybody would and no one would care.

---

I used ‘would’ too many times – words like that say a lot about me.

I don’t mean Karaoke, which gets them crying, or two-for-one and

meal deal extra grill.

---

Even then I think eating is more important. Probably makes no sense

but write back where you left your first letter.

---

That house is not what you think. It’s still a kids’ home and good

people work there.

---

Those boys who lurk also bring takeaways – Tikka sometimes.

Who don't need it once every while?

---

LET ME IMAGINE

---

In our English towns, how it is to be poor;

staggering like in a Russian novel:

a girl alone with gaping strangers.

Maybe you could go to Greggs

as they do cheap sausage rolls

perhaps a corned-beef pasty?

I had one and vomited it on

the pavement in Kidlington.

When I dropped this letter off

I slowed on the dual carriageway

---

took a sharp left into closed gates.

---

Is that usual? I saw faces from upper

windows though not yours. Presumably

you don't live there anymore. A swift hand

from the gate grabbing for delivery. Thirty

pounds thrust in my palm, which I return for

some healthy food. Greek yoghurt is best

maybe bubble tea. I went behind the house

and saw a lonely garden, a broken swing and

scorched grass around a tin-tray barbeque

from a garden centre. Was there a party?

---

NOT MUCH ANYWHERE ANYMORE

---

Dear Sir,

---

It was my leaving-do not a school prom exactly but they did what

they could!! As you says parking is hard and access not good so

many friends couldn't make it to the house. And who are you to

laugh??

---

Sorry maybe you’re not but it’s easy to drive past and say who’d live

on some dual carriageway who’d have a barbeque in a garden with

nothing but a broke swing who’d live at all really.

---

One day I'll look at you find where you live sit and watch you'd

better be careful. I know how sick are all levels of men so don't be

fixed on those boys some who loved me as they knew best.

---

I can't complain if I could I'd be giving back so many things I never

had till they gave them to me for nothing really. I sound so angry

when I can't be now. It puts everyone off. No need to be some

nutjob who loses it in Aldi screaming down aisles shoving at the

checkout as eyes all around are rolling.

---

I don't understand any of your letters but it's better to get them than

not to so write again if you want to. Such will always find me but as

you say I don't live there not much anywhere anymore.

---

I HAD A FIGHT

---

If you find my letters so meaningless

maybe this will help. I was involved in

an 'incident' delivering this one –

I beat the shit out of some cunt who was

trying to intimidate me. Don't you

---

realise that most middle-class people

bubble with resentment, dissolved over

decades? So I struck first, a kick straight in

his cobblers, thumb into an eye socket

then rapid steam-hammering of the bonce.

---

Well, he lay stricken. If this was one of

your ‘boys’ then you say sorry for me. I

trust this message is intelligible!

You signed off with weary nihilism

so I thought this sign of my physical

---

willingness to fight in your cause, although

no longer a young man, would release you

from such hopelessness. I send now also

a pamphlet by a man named Nietzsche to

explain how my actions really might help.

---

POSTSCRIPT

---

Bad Sir,

---

You are a mad sod shithead. I got your pamphlet – wrote cowardly

under some dumb name – saying God is Dead and you have killed

him. It was in that hot garden, no shade, just me. Too much so I

went to the garage for Magnums.

---

One of my boys read it and no choice but to beat me near dead then

eat the salted caramel one.

---

He tells that’s why I need treating like they do.

---

There is only one God and that name is whispered in their ear when

born and when dead. He shouted it in my shell then had me hard.

Said I was lucky for that – next time I’d hear it when petrol plus lit

match through the letterbox.

---

Tell Mr Nietzsche, I can spell and he is not dead. He’s coming for you

if I tip him your name.

---

So what is it?

---

But be careful if you come here again. Eyes watch us all now – it’s

safer that way.

---

HIS LAST WORDS

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Child, I pray you'll somehow always be safe,

never awake worrying through the night.

On this world's surface, how would I find you

if you'd wandered lost, somewhere all alone?

I'd wind my window down. The lonely moon

shining over scorched fields now cooling and

the taste of meadows after rain. Let the

wind alone whisper you this poetry –

doesn't matter where, long after I'm gone;

reaching your ear, taking you safely home.