The BBC is very keen on Britain’s coast watchers. They like broadcasting little news items about the small army of male retirees manning the chain of observation posts along our coasts. Apart from obvious cases of bathers or boats in difficulties coast watchers keep an eye on the small boats going in and out of our harbours or off our beaches. They log how many people are on the little ships and, when they return to port, whether there are more on them than before. If they see anything suspicious they alert the coast guard. This is part of the magic world of Dad’s Army, the illusion that nothing has changed since 1941, that ‘Britain can take it, even if ‘it‘ is quarter of a million migrants a year. Leave the smuggling gangs to Corporal Jones in his naval warm from the local Oxfam shop, binoculars at the ready. You can almost hear the music, ‘Who do you think you are kidding Mr Hitler?’
What happens if Jones sees something suspicious? Perhaps a rib packed with people suddenly appears over the horizon, or a fishing boat hove to low in the water due to a human cargo ? This is 2016 so Jones no longer goes to the wind up telephone in the corner. Instead he picks up his mobile. The wicked smugglers are caught, and the shivering, helpless refugees wrapped in blankets and given hot tea before being taken away by kindly Frontex guards to the nearby refugee detention centre. (Migrants telephone 999 when inside British waters and tell authorities to pick them up)
‘Thank God,’ mutters our BBC listener, a tear or two of self congratulation moistening his eyes. ‘At least we have standards, this is still the Britain I recognise.’ This is precisely what the guilt ridden middle classes cramming the corridors of the BBC want us to feel. They want to see Britain populated with as many strangers as possible. The Corporation’s aim is cultural genocide, the wiping out of a culture they regard as loathsome, their own. Why? Pure guilt fired by overweening narcissism. If you are on TV its not just the expensive clothes that matter, you have to be seen to be claiming the expensive moral high ground. It is why the Dad’s Army version of Britain is a mirage, a lie, a fairy tale to distract listeners from the reality of what is a mass invasion. It is why you will never hear the BBC telling you that once an illegal migrant sets foot on British soil, he or she is here to stay. Various UN conventions and treaties see to that. With few exceptions, setting foot on one of our beaches, stepping off an aircraft or jumping off the back of a lorry, has only one result, permanent residence. Within a few days our refugees rescued by the coast watchers will leave the detention centre for their new lives in Britain, fed, clothed, a voucher for free accommodation in one pocket, an NHS number in the other. Within hours they will vanish into our big cities. In a few years time they will come forward to claim British passports, for themselves and their families back home.
The Great Lie is that we have frontiers. We don’t. It is why we have extended our defences to Calais, where the game of stopping feet touching British soil is played out. It is the lie that by common consent is never spoken. June the 23rd is our last opportunity to nail that lie. Take it and vote leave.
Note – A reader, see in comments, has very kindly pointed out the following;-
Those given refugee status – either recognition as definitely in need of asylum or the in theory lesser status of “exceptional leave to remain”, do not need to wait until British Citizenship is acquired before sponsoring their dependent families. Under the Home Office “family reunification” head of policy, the dependants can join them as soon as documented and awarded visas. Needless to say, many thus sponsored are not “related as claimed” to individual sponsors claiming to be a parent. It’s a good to bring in a nephew or two along with your genuine children. As Enoch put it, we must be literally mad.