Let 'Em Come

 

Let 'Em Come:

🇬🇧 Spine-tingling 🇬🇧#Millwall pic.twitter.com/DOGlPnHC9B

— Millwall FC (@MillwallFC) May 8, 2023

Cheers,

LSP

So What's England Like?

There's a lot to love about England, the pubs, butchers, cheap food, being able to walk around the towns, beautiful countryside and the history of the place. All that and more, such as the greatness of the Victorians who pretty much built, with bricks and mortar, what we see today. 

Greatness

Go to Trafalgar Square and look out at the buildings and consider the Victorians who built them as they conquered the world. They were giants, obviously, but are today's Britons pygmies? Has the Sceptered Isle that produced Palmerston, Gladstone and Disraeli become a cossetted realm of beta cucks sipping foamy coffee in plush onesies as they cuddle their favourite unicorn?

LSP Goes Postal

I don't think so, go ask your nearest Millwall fan and see how far it gets you. That said, perhaps Great Britain's been co-opted by the Caliphate and you'd be forgiven for thinking that, given London's Muslim Mayor and the Church of England's fondness for the call to prayer. But no, the England I saw wasn't lost in the grip of the global Jihad, thank God. If anything it was overrun by Russians, who are clearly a Putinist 5th Column intent on subverting what was once a great liberal democracy.

So all that's good but is there a downside? Unfortunately there is. England's very regulated. For example, pretty much wherever you go you're being filmed. Driving, shopping, walking around town, whatever, smile, you're on camera. Are there microphones in the hedges? Who knows.

Smile, You're on Camera

Maybe this has something to do with geography and size of the population, some 60 million people crammed into a country the size of a shoe box; without a lot of rules there'd be chaos. Perhaps, but it's a far cry from Britons never, ever, ever shall be slaves. And of course today's Englishman, sorry Englishperson, isn't allowed to defend themselves, that's up to Nanny.

I Love Pubs

America in general and Texas in particular, seems to have a broader horizon. It's less settled, it's much larger, and the frontier isn't that far behind. That lends itself to an expansiveness and sense of opportunity which England doesn't have. And hey, I can go out and buy a Glock and a deadly assault rifle and blaze away without being sent to gaol via CCTV. You can defend yourself here and you can't in England, who's more free?

The French House Flies The Union Jack

Still, there's a greatness to England and maybe that's getting greater now that the country's decided to throw off the dead hand of Brussells and BREXIT. Let's see how that goes. I'm looking forward to a return visit.

Cheers and Rule Britannia,

LSP

Poetry, Innit

Thanks, LL.

Recessional - Rudyard Kipling

God of our fathers, known of old, 

Lord of our far-flung battle-line, 

Beneath whose awful Hand we hold 

Dominion over palm and pine— 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget—lest we forget! 

The tumult and the shouting dies; 

The Captains and the Kings depart: 

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, 

An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget—lest we forget! 

Far-called, our navies melt away; 

On dune and headland sinks the fire: 

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! 

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, 

Lest we forget—lest we forget! 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 

Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe, 

Such boastings as the Gentiles use, 

Or lesser breeds without the Law— 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget—lest we forget! 

For heathen heart that puts her trust 

In reeking tube and iron shard, 

All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding, calls not Thee to guard, 

For frantic boast and foolish word— 

Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord! 

As you reflect on Recessional, ponder this. Churchill's bust is back in the Oval Office. Glory has returned to Israel.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Rule Britannia!

Remember the old song that says Britons never, ever, ever shall be slaves? Well it seems that that the Britons do, following their decision to walk away from their transnational elite, secular rightleft overlords in Brussels. 

What can we say? Rule Britannia, despite the best efforts of the bankster NWO puppetmasters and their Illuminati stooges in the Boom Town Rats.

Whether millionaire socialist celebrity Bob Geldof's disastrous performance on a boat in the Thames influenced this positive outcome, is presently unclear.

And you'll notice that the progleft shills in the so-called objective press are all saying that democracy's a bad idea.

Right. Who knows, maybe Great Briton will rebuild its Navy.

Carry on,

LSP

Put out More Flags

I enjoy seeing the Union Jack flying in this city almost as much as I scorn Piers Morgan's theology. Everyone's least favorite Bilderberger sycophant has been running around telling us that we need to change the Bible to allow "gay marriage."

Moral? Not everything that comes out of Great Britain is worth a damn keeping.

Salute the flag.

LSP

Only Mad dogs and , er, Englishmen...

Union Jack

...go out in the noonday sun after two Sung Masses. Except, of course, that the "mad dogs" didn't; they were sensibly keeping their heads down while I went out to hunt them in 104* heat. You see, there's this cruel new trend here of people dropping off their unwanted attack dogs in the countryside. They go feral, pack up and attack livestock and, if they get the chance, humans. My Treasurer saw some yesterday and invited me out to "git 'em" after church. Damn good chap, the Treasurer. Evidently the dogs are black, betwixt the size of a coyote and a wolf, and six in number. Their tails are short, interestingly.

I was there, gun in hand, stealthy.

They were doubtless sleeping. I kept going, to the Valley of the Dry Bones...

Still no dogs, so I went untactical, had a smoke and shot a rabbit. They've become a menace.

Spent the rest of the afternoon shooting empty shotgun cartridges off of haybales with the venerable JC Higgins .22. Childish, but fun. Altogether a good way to unwind after the the Sunday morning biznai.

Back in the A/C now, contemplating next move against wild dog pack. Perhaps scoped AR in .308 would be sensible?

God bless,

LSP

PS. Stay tuned for linguistic philosopher GWB's Hog poem.

Stay on the Horse, Mate!

Lamenting the dismal failure of The Administration to do more than give a handringing rebuke (worse the French for goodness sake) to the barbarians in Tehran - and the breakdown of AC in the parsonage, I decided to leave the Sweat Lodge and head for the stables. Several miles of dirt roads later I was there, welcomed by assorted flags, not least the Union Jack. Good to see that flying.

And by 'BeBop', who put up with my novice horsemanship for a few hours while I posted, practiced two point and generally horsed about. It felt good, probably because I'm beginning to get the rythm of the horse and sensibly managed not to fall off. Total enjoyment; the ultimate goal being to go really fast for a long time while jumping over high obstacles. Well, progress is being made.

BeBop looked after, it was advance to contact at the Stock Tank where the opposition were suppressed by a furious hail of bolt action lead. Great fun - message to market: Don't stay at home reflecting on political and air conditioning failure when you can ride and shoot.

God bless,

LSP