What was what like? London, of course. Much the same as it's ever been for the last few decades, with a few changes. Liverpool Street Station was greatly built up, I used to live there and it took a moment to recognize familiar landmarks. Downtown central's much the same as ever but with increasing hordes of tourists.
On the good side of the ledger, the Clubs are holding strong. Nice, bastions of civilization from a better age. Likewise, Green/Gay agitprop doesn't seem to be half of what it was a few years ago. Good, enough of the wretched rainbow flags already.
Seriously, a couple of years ago you'd be assaulted by Green/Gay propaganda posters as you walked through the interminably awful corridors of Heathrow's Terminal Horrible Three. These have gone, thank God, maybe this useless, despicable, deceitful fad's nearing its well-deserved sell-by date, please.
They/Them notwithstanding, there's a new fad in town, Re-Wilding. Yep, let your towns, cityscapes, roads, bridges, woods, fields, factories, houses and on revert back to nature. A bit like Detroit if you pause and think for a moment. Net result? Incredibly shabby verges and medians, and that unkept look which says virtue-signaling saves the local council money at the expense of your city looking like an abandoned slum.
No kidding, re-wilding, it's a thing; hey, gotta cut costs to afford all those immigrant votes. Whatever, here's two short anecdotes, both true.
The National Liberal Club: At the bar, reading the Spectator, and a crew swings in next to me. "Excuse me, sir." Quite all right, common ground. A little later it's revealed that my newfound neighbor's people built some great Sikh edifice in Birmingham. "Ah, Sikhs," I offered, "Sword arm of the Hindu faith." My new friend looked me in the eye and said, "If only," and we became friends. Not surprising, when you think on it, because we both went to the same school, all hail the Dragon, Oxford. At the end of old school conviv he asked me, "As a priest, what do you think of Islam?" I told him, in no uncertain terms, and he agreed. We'll meet again.
The Lamb & Flag: Covent Garden and here we are at this ancient pub, pints flowing freely, when lo and behold, a guy in red trousers, two breaster blazer, cigar in mouth and tinted glasses on eyes offers bystanders "delicious chocolates." Sure thing, thanks, fella. Next step? "Look here, guys, I know these people." Off you go then, and I did, "I like your crucifix," he had one around his neck, real gold thank you very much, "What's inscribed on the reverse?" He looked at me and I looked at him. "Deus Vult," he replied, the legend of the Crusade. Turns out my Turkish Mayfair pal, according to him, was one of the few families of his class to not kow-tow to Islam. I told him to go to the Brompton Oratory, hope he does.
Point being, the Lawless London Caliphate isn't lost, at least not yet. There's plenty of diversity which opposes it, from Sikh to Turk, Hindu to Christian, so don't lose hope. That said, indigenous natives might want to start having babies again. Word to the wise.
Kizmet,
LSP
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