Rule, Britannia!

Britannia fills the graves

Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

I don't know about other ethnic minority kids in Britain, but I grew up being told by the older generations who came here after the war and partition of their country with a Sharpie by a British man high on ego and malevolence, about how great Britain is and how amazing the Empire was and the lovely train tracks they built in India. It felt like an honour to be British. To escape the ‘developing’ world and instead - out of billions of people - be one of the chosen ones to be born here.

I've lived here all my life in absolute comfort, I've never gone without anything, all because of the British pound being strong and the city of London crashing all brown country currencies by fiddling with buttons on their computers on a corrupt system they invented called Forex - the selling of currency as a commodity - which is one of the most evil financial inventions of all time, and completely illogical. But hey-ho, we cannot let the brown people rise. Gaddafi wanted to get rid of the petrodollar and fiat currency, so that money would be gold-backed and worth something as it used to be. By doing so, he would release the grip of genocidal America over Arab and African lands. And so, Gaddafi had to go. The BBC has a policy that they do not show dead bodies on the news. However, the death of Gaddafi gave them such a hard-on they showed him dead on the floor wrapped in his shroud after his murder. The message was clear - the brown world will never be free of Western Empire.

The comfort of Britain and the strength of the pound and the ‘respect’ of being a professional trained in the UK, were all meant to make me feel lucky and proud. And I did feel it for a bit, especially when Tony Blair brought in the Human Rights Act and we felt like a civilised nation. A nation who only waged the most Holiest of wars against Muslim terrorists, those pesky Arabs who hated our way of life because they are jealous that our Western women were allowed to go on love island and watch their partners shag others, have their hearts broken and their self-esteem shattered, because that's what liberation for women is. Yes! Jealousy! And such sinful jealousy must be met only with Holy Crusade, led by the Prophets Bush and Blair, and just punishment can only be genocide, murder, displacement, invasion, the bombing of wedding parties and the looting of oil.

Oh what pride to be British!

The ability to go to any place on earth, move there and by virtue of my British passport, never again be called an immigrant but always an ‘expat’. An acceptance that the world belongs to me, all because I hold that little Blue, Brexit book.

I mean its a bit weird that abroad I’m an expat, but here they call me a ‘second generation immigrant’ though I never immigrated anywhere. That's how racist they are. Simply because I had ancestors that used to live in another country before they came to the world’s foremost OG genocidal Empire's HQ (aka Britain), then I'm an ‘immigrant’. That's because I'm brown. The King’s dad is literally Greek, but I'm the immigrant.

I know, I know, we now have the Nationality and Borders Act, so now they can take my British citizenship away at whim, and can even leave me stateless as they did to trafficked child bride Shamima Begum. I'm brown like her and partial to 5 times a day prayer so I'm defo on a radar.

I tell my parents now that the worst thing they did was raise us in Britain. As a Muslim girl in Britain, we were always taunted for not being promiscuous and it was unbelievable that we could have fun without alcohol, “You don’t drink?! How do you have fun?! It must be sooooo boring! *Burp*"

“No Sandra, you're boring. The social lubricant you need to seem interesting to others doesn't actually make you interesting, but loud and obnoxious and you're drunken karaoke is crap. Shagging the office hottie in a toilet during the Xmas party isn't a win but a further illustration of self-loathing and societal pressure that says waiting for commitment from a man before you give yourself to him, makes you weird and frigid. And it’s f*king unhygienic.”

I cannot understand the ‘thrill’ of pubic toilet sex. Your literally getting your bits out in p*ss soaked cubicles. Other people’s piss. I swear to you, I have never sat on a public toilet. This is Britain - unlike the backward Eastern world - there is no water in the cubicle. You’re meant to sh*t then wipe it with a tissue. I’m literally gagging as I write. Seriously…wtaf. Can carve an Empire by literally carving up entire peoples, but haven’t clocked on that maybe clean sh*t off bums with water? Some of my family members back in Asia still use holes in the ground and even they have a flowing water in their toilet cubicles in middle of villages in the middle of nowhere. (One time I was using their facilities and was accompanied by a long, black snake. I sh*t myself in every way. But I still used water!!!)

The Western Empire has such a hard-on against Muslims at the moment that genocide and the slicing up of their kids isn’t enough. In France, one company has said if a Muslim is found to have cleaned their bits with water in the toilet, they will be ‘severely punished’. How f*king stupidly racist do you have to be to literally have a problem with someone wanting to be clean. But apparently in the West this means I'm a dangerous Muzzie who hates our way of life so shove me on a black list and confiscate my keffiyeh!

I tell my parents that the faux comfort of Britain made us lazy, and corruption is everywhere. Kids are addicted to porn. Kids are high on drugs. Kids want nothing more than to be influencers. Kids have mental health problems so severe its an epidemic.

I tell them, that even the village their grandparents grew up would’ve been better. Yes, sure, I' sh*t it of snakes and I hate the squat toilet, but my days would be full of being outside, planting crops, collecting rice, surrounded by people I love and sleeping after a hard, satisfying day in nature. Sure, I’d never be rich, and I’d have to sew my own clothes, but what is life for than to actually LIVE? To actually work for your OWN survival, your OWN life?

Instead I do nothing for my survival. I sit watching TV or scrolling the internet. The food I eat, I do not pick or catch. The clothes I wear, I do not make. The water I drink, I do not collect. My survival is provided for others - Aldi mainly - and I do nothing for my own life.

The faux comfort we are in has decayed our minds, rotted our bodies, destroyed our sense of self and our self-esteem. We are not satisfied after a hard day’s work providing for the survival of ourselves and our families because we do no such thing. So we look for satisfaction aka ‘thrills’ elsewhere and the best we invented was toilet sex, vodka jellies and big brother.

Tell me one thing good about Britain and I'll show you how's it's stolen.

You can never convince me about the virtues of Britain, because there are none.

My parents tell me it is because I'm seeing everything through the eyes of genocide and there are genuinely good things about this country.

They are right. I see everything through the eyes of genocide. There is not an iota of good in a genocider. They are all evil. They all malevolent. Every action they take is cursed. Anything superficially ‘good’ has an underlying wicked intention. Britain is the OG genocider who created with their Sharpies and maps the majority of conflicts causing genocide today. They criminalise those against genocide. Their government takes hand outs from pro-genociders, and they light British government buildings with the flags of their genocider friends.

My grief is palpable. It walks by my side like my shadow, it blows on my skin like the wind, it blinds my eyes with tears of despair.

Britain birthed me, raised me, gave me comfort beyond belief, gave me faux superiority over others.

But it has disappointed me, and betrayed me, and destroyed me, with its nonstop killing, and its insatiable need for the blood of innocents.

Rule Britannia.
Britannia fills their graves.