I never thought when I left the UK for America in 2002, that I would ever be ashamed of my country. I was proud to be British, proud of my EU passport.
Not any more. I am deeply ashamed of what my country has become. As if the Brexit vote, engineered through brainwashing and outright lies by men like Johnson, Gove, Fox, and Farage, wasn’t bad enough, the government is now led by Johnson who has surrounded himself with ass-lickers, useless at the jobs they’ve been assigned, but chosen for the sole purpose of keeping Johnson in power.
No-one is more useless at her job as Home Secretary than the unfortunately named Priti Patel. Unfortunate, not because of her harsh, cold, features, but for the harsh, cold, heart that dwells within them. She should be dumped on an uninhabited island in the South Atlantic, as once she suggested should happen to refugees seeking asylum in the UK.
Now the hell-bitch it bent on making it as difficult as possible for Ukrainians to enter the UK. Many have arrived at Calais, only to be told to access a ridiculously long internet link.
“Oh, darn, in the rush to leave Ukraine as the bombs were falling around me I forgot to bring my laptop. I’ll just nip back and get it!”
Poland has taken 800,000 Ukrainian refugees. The UK to date: 300.
Who are these wankers, who have no idea of the suffering people go through. Above, is a notice pinned up at Calais by the British government stipulating these poor, overwhelmed, shattered, people must now trek hundreds more kilometres to Paris (182 miles/293 kms) or Brussels (122 miles/196 kms) in the hope they may be allowed into the UK. Even if they are granted a visa, they’ll probably need to travel back to Calais for a fucking ferry to cross the Channel.
Isn’t it time Brits started to get rid of all the thick, stupid, heartless bastards that have been running their country for too long. All the strutters, the peacocks in their fancy suits, with their fancy titles, “The Right Honorable,” “Lord Fucking So-and-So,” “The Home Secretary” (sooner she’s shut in a home the better!), and all the other gawks not worth a light, and certainly not the fancy salaries they pay themselves. They’re brainwashed in Oxford before being sent out to keep the peasants poor and feather their own fancy nests. There’s hardly a brain cell between the lot of them. Daddy’s money got them where they are, more often than not, or an education system they’ve tailored to suit themselves, and to hell with ordinary folk.
Brits are a laughing stock throughout the world and an embarrassment to English folk living abroad. I try to avoid telling French people where I come from, not because of fear of violence, the French are too polite for that, but for the look of sympathy that crosses their features as soon as the word, “English” is mentioned.
I used to be proud of my country of birth. Now, it feels like a millstone around the neck.