Are there any English people in tonight?
Can we talk a bit about what it means to be English?
A friend of mine, Cass Pennant, sent me an email on St George’s Day. I’ve still got it on my phone. It says: “There is a word that means more to me than any other, some say now a forbidden word: That word is ENGLAND!” And isn’t that right?
The English are the only people in the world who are told that it is wrong to celebrate our history and heritage. Tony Blair, who is Scottish, gave the Scots a Parliament stating rightly that they are a “proud and historic nation”. But his Deputy, John Prescott, who was born in Wales, is on record as saying “There is no such nationality as English.” Have you ever heard anything so absurd?
Prescott and Blair tried to chop England up into nine regions, with expensive talking shop assemblies, regional flags and identities; all the better to ram us into the Euro-mincer. Voters rejected them but they’ll keep on trying. Blair has a vested interest in denying the English our own parliament of course – he’d never get elected in England. But this disdain for everything English that infects our rulers runs deeper than that. George Orwell, the great patriotic socialist, detected it back in the 1930s when he wrote that "England is perhaps the only great country whose intellectuals are ashamed of their nationality."
Partly this was down to the guilt of Empire, and partly it stemmed from the influence amongst the Oxbridge elite of a powerful group of traitors who preferred Stalin’s Russia to their own country. Now their descendents want to dissolve us into the EU after falling out of love with a succession of foreign tyrants from Castro to Mao to Osama Bin Laden via the Irish Republican Army. It’s the Guardian mentality: England is always in the wrong, no matter what murderous rogue we are up against. But are they right? In fact the English have far less to be ashamed of that other European nations. We aren’t as militaristic as the Germans or as xenophobic as the French.
The Royal Navy sank the slave trade and the British empire is remembered with affection everywhere it touched.
These **********ing fools don't even know the roots of their own radicalism. For every Francis Drake in English history there was a Wat Tyler. For every Wellington there was a Captain Swing. Military achievement shaped our self image.
The stout Yeomen of England have been beating off invaders for centuries. We saw off Bonaparte, smashed the Spanish Armada and stood alone against Hitler. But England gave the world parliamentary democracy and the trade unions too. We are strong-willed people, rightly proud of our free speech and tolerance. Our defining national characteristic is "constructive bloody-mindedness" according to Keith Waterhouse. Which is why most of us refuse to take Europe seriously. European? Never. I was born English and I will die English.
To be English is to be part of the world's richest culture. From this sceptred isle sprang talents as diverse as Kipling and Chaplin, Dickens and Shakespeare, Nelson and Joe Strummer. In every field, in every era, the evidence of English greatness is there for all to see, from the enduring genius of Elgar to Kelly Holmes notching up a double gold at the Olympics.
As Ian Dury once sang: "There are jewels in the crown of England's glory, too numerous to mention, but a few." We made not be world champs in much but it was England which gave the world football, cricket, rugby, tennis, the Beatles, The Who, Benny Hill and Frank Bruno. As a people we are not given to chest beating. Reserve and restraint are as much English qualities as inventiveness and enterprise. But we do resent the way Englishness is sneered at by the chattering classes. Whether your England is summed up by a bowler hat or a pit helmet, punk rock or Morris dancers, there are few national tapestries as rich as ours.
My England is bubble and squeak and foaming pints of Boddingtons. It is Les Dawson and Barbara Windsor, Max Miller and Page Three. My England is pie and mash and Aston Martins, Derby day and Arfur Daley, Mods and Suedeheads, Lennie McLean and Carry On films. My England stretches from Dennis Skinner to Roger Scruton, from Peggy Mount to Beki Bondage. It's Blackpool beach, Charlie Drake, Charlton Athletic FC, roast beef, imperial measurements and vindaloo. It's defiance. Whether it be King Alfred standing up to the Vikings, Colonel H at Goose Green, or the Metric Martyrs giving the finger to Brussels. No-one likes us! We don't care!
As an Englishman I don’t hate other nationalities but I want to preserve and build on MY heritage. I want it recognised and I want the right to celebrate it one day a year. Is that much to ask? Of course not. Red Ken gave St Patrick’s Day a subsidy of £100,000 from London tax payers. You know what he gave St George’s Day? That’s right, ****** ALL. In half the country you can’t even get a pub extension. But we don’t need Ken and we certainly don’t need his approval. He’s the freak. Being patriotic is normal and healthy, hating your own country is perverse. It’s up to us to make a stand for England’s green and pleasant land.
If you are English you know what to do on April 23rd. Turn off the telly and get down the pub, preferrably in a fine Longshanks shirt. As Chesterton wrote: "St George he was for England and before he slew the dragon, he drank a pint of English ale out of an English flagon." Enjoy yourself on St. George's Day. And remember, there will always be an England.
English Independence
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Originally Posted by silver guard
