Diversity is Our Strength ®

Belfast Was Only the Beginning

The Belfast air is beset with a choking taste of burning plastic. Embers still smoulder in the charred shells of suburban terraced houses. Flames licking across red brick and cracked slate roofs. The claustrophobic streets, littered with the skeletal remains of cars that came to grief, while the heavy rain does nothing to extinguish the simmering rage.

The world will wake to whatever version of events suits their political persuasion. Doubtlessly reduced to the lowest common denominator. Subverted beyond recognition and fed into the gaping jaw of that insatiable fear machine.

However, no matter what utopian fairy tale you choose to hide beneath—whatever idealistic safe space you harbour your anxiety—there is no escaping the fact that what happened in Belfast is only the beginning.

Provincial towns are besieged with savages from the arse-crack of the developing world. The government placed them deep within our communities.

We see them screaming at traffic. We see them shitting in the bushes. Primitives of all descriptions rendering our towns unrecognisable and making streets impassable to women. Leering on our children like hungry jackals. We’re told to ignore the evidence of our own eyes. We’re told that our opinions are criminal. We’re told that diversity is our strength.

Grooming gang enquiries get suppressed. Victims are gaslit and humiliated under a regime of complicit two-tier policing. Women are constantly harassed in broad daylight while government-sponsored campaigns blitzkrieg the media with the notion that white masculinity is inherently toxic.

Every day brings another horrifying ordeal. Multiple stabbings on a train, schoolgirls assaulted, tribal machete skirmishes in the suburbs. Grown men, forced to stand idly by and wonder if their wives or daughters will be the next to be defiled by wandering savages.

Every incident is memory-holed by a desensitised establishment in favour of sermonising, altruistic fantasists who have rebranded these servile parasites as refugees. Persecuted and vulnerable citizens of humanity. From their sheltered lives they feel duty-bound to grant them asylum, ignorant to the horror that continues to transpire in towns like Rochdale, Rotherham and Halifax.

Protestations are ignored, met with a brick wall of contempt and authority. Working-class concerns yet again compacted, insulted and patronised.

The pressure builds with nowhere to go. The camel’s back begins to shiver. Then something truly unthinkable happens. Something that just ten years ago would have been met with a consensus condemnation. The camel’s back snaps and the balaclavas come out of the sock drawer.

We didn’t ask for diversity. We have no love of inclusion. Britain is rejecting the premise like a body rejecting a bad heart transplant. Whatever the consequences, whatever the institutional rhetoric—however it is spun, make no mistake about it, the Rubicon has been crossed. Belfast is only the beginning.