The media are awash with chat about the notion of “Britishness” in the wake of the Trojan Horse story coming out of Birmingham. As ever, politicians are jumping on the bandwagon likes fleas on an old dog; it is, after all, election time soon.
Rationale debate is still difficult to achieve as this is a ridiculously emotive subject, despite it rising to the top of the agenda largely due to UKIP’s recent successes at the polls.
Cameron, as ever, is flapping around like a one-winged parrot, seeking tough sound-bites whilst selling us off to the Chinese. Miliband, leader of the party that opened the flood gates, is almost invisible; small mercies to be grateful for I guess.
Whilst there are sound economic arguments for controlled immigration, these are inevitably based on the reality – like it or not – that we can be choosy at least as far as non EU migrants. Britain is a nation people aspire to come to.
However, the thing that hacks off Ordinary Joe more than anything else is the fact that the politicians who preach the benefits of mass immigration rarely live in the areas that have to deal with the impact.
One hack wrote at the weekend of the “metropolitan elite” – he meant New Labour – whose policies opened the doors.
Bradford – metropolitan but far from elite – contends with it’s primary schools dealing with almost 150 different languages. This has been a massive failure of the indigenous population. Making kids learn the Magna Carta will not solve this one bit.
There remains a fundamental flaw in the way we treat minorities. Bending over backwards might seem the “fair” thing to do but it misses the point that there are those within these communities that will exploit this weakness as Birmingham demonstrates.
Wherever you live you must surely respect the law of that land. To live here, often on the social benefits a progressive society can still afford to provide, and yet to rail against it’s very existence and cultures is both offensive and ignorant.
Fortunately, most common sense can still be found in the good old British pub – one of the founding pillars of Britishness – and I find it hard to argue with the sentiments I heard expressed at the weekend.
“If they don’t like it then they should *** off.” said my unnamed source, clearly fearful of a kidnap attempt and beer deprivation.
Britishness should be about upholding the values and traditions that we have fought for over centuries. You cannot cow-tow to a raft of migrant cultures simply to appease the politically correct brigade.
And before the human rights brigade pipe up there is nowhere better on Earth than Britain to enjoy human rights; that is why most people still want to come here.
Saturdays With Molly – The Good Wife’s Revenge
A vital top of the table clash last weekend saw fellow promotion hopefuls Illingworth St Marys CC roll up to the Villas with a degree of swagger.Their dressing room was alive with confident chatter, enough for us to overhear a rather dismissive comment about our prospects.
“This lot have only got one bowler” said the would-be pundit.
As far away from the truth as it was, it was also fair to say that had it been accurate then it would still have been one more bowler than they possessed on the evidence of the day’s play.
Despite a solid start, as soon as the skipper vanished – incandescent at Umpire Jolly Jim Stoker’s 1,000th LBW decision (he’s had us all) – there was a monumental collapse.
Typifying this was their No 4, a fat lad who had turned up still hungover, vomited before play and then was out stumped as he almost fell over at the crease. One more nail in the coffin for the yoof of today.
Fresh from his trip to Epsom with Marsy the Impressionable, Molly was back in town this weekend but with Josh Percy Thrower now spearheading the attack, Tall Pete had to break the news that the new ball was no longer his.
Molly skulked off to mid-off mumbling something rude about Josh’s hair band, borrowed from his mum.
The old boy bided his time though and, despite an indifferent first spell, came back to wipe out the tail with his devilish tripe. Barely two hours later, it was game over and a very long wait till England’s first World Cup match kicked off at 11pm.
Normally this is the cue for Molly to sense opportunities overflowing via a pint pot but unusually, without a beer in sight, there he sat all night. Wife Carol had clearly enforced austerity measures on the gallivanting old fool.
“I want to have a clear head for the juniors in the morning” he claimed with as much conviction as he could muster. With arms folded alongside him, we knew that Carol had regained control…for now.
The Road to Scarborough – 2014 Tour
Here we go again with our opening game of the 2014 Grey Fox Over 50s Trophy, staged at the Villas this weekend. This year we are in a group with TABs (who we beat last year) and the Nidderdale Not So Youngs, who knocked us out at the semi-final stage at Headingley.
It will be much tougher, especially as our avengers last year have numerous clubs to pick from but this misses the essence of this wonderful concept. We remain largely a Villas XL save for a few “ringers”.
Having the opportunity to share a dressing room again with mates you endured many a battle on a Saturday afternoon is priceless. Watching them pop a multitude of pills, strap on miles of bandaging and take the obligatory warm-up walk around the boundary edge is simply wonderful.
Roll-up, roll-up and come see some old boys have an afternoon to savour.Ice baths at the ready.
Poundland
Lord Willy of Idle officially endorses Poundland and now I know where all you tight bastards bought my seemingly well considered and expensive birthday presents! Still, if you can’t beat them as they say.
There are some fantastically cheap (and equally useless) things in Poundland. My favourite this week has to be the rubber frog that “croaks” if you move past it. That should stop the cats shitting on my salad garden.
I tried to buy one but by the time I had got it to the checkout it’s incessant croaking made me want to smash it’s rubber head in.
But its the people I love, observing those that try not to be seen (like Aldi for the poor) and those you cannot avoid hearing. Stood in the queue the other day here’s what I heard…honest!
“Men don’t last long in our family” said a woman, beaten too many times by the ugly stick, presumably to her daughter.
“That’s cos ther all basstards” spat presumably newly pregnant and worldy-wise daughter, inheritor of the family good looks.
I looked down and considered taking Freddie the Frog back to the shelves right then but each time I moved he croaked as if to say “stay put…this could be good.”
The mother had a tattoo the size of a mural on her back although the tattoo artist must have been pissed when “commissioned”. Either that or the object was derived from some drug-addled fantasy.
“Blokes wi kids are all right I suppose” she said “it’s them twats wi owt that piss off.”
I wonder why, I thought, as I breathed in essence of Rothman’s King Size.
“Mind you” she offered, adding one final enlightened moment of my day “those ones wi owt allus die young.”
And there you have it. Marry an ugly one, knock one or two out and you will have a long life my son.
More From “I Told You So” Corner
According to last weekend’s Sunday Times, Ofsted have finally woken up to the fact that there is almost no competitive sport in state schools and that this is not a good thing. Well done chaps, what took you so long?
Regular readers – I do have a few – will know I have been banging on about this for well over a decade and more. Most recently I wrote a chapter (3) in “Fifty Not Out” on this issue.
However, even more damaging and socially divisive is the fact that these inequalities forged at primary schools are further widened all the way to elite sport.
Take the distribution of funding from UK Sport, essentially dictated by the pursuance of Olympic medals: https://www.idlelord.com/playing-up-hill/
Bad enough that we fund only sports where medals are deemed possible but look at what we end up with* in terms of the proportion of GB medal winners who were privately educated.
Sydney 2000 – 23.6%
Athens 2004 – 27.8%
Beijing 2008 – 35.7%
London 2012 – 46%
*Sunday Times 15/6/14
England’s cricket team for the first test contained only one player – Moeen Ali – educated in the state system. This is a national scandal and in no small part has played a significant part in the rapid and apparently unstoppable rise in obesity levels nationally.
It is a failure of generations of young people deprived of opportunities to enjoy sport and live a fit and healthy lifestyle. Politicians of all parties should be ashamed of this utter disgrace.
More Britishness
Emptied my coffee pot on my corn flakes this morning. In a true Brit way I dipped my spoon in and carried on…nurse!!!
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