Please Read This Tale Of Horror With Care - And Then Give Me One Reason Why The Leftist/ Do-Gooder Agenda Should Not Be Ditched!
Squalid Britain, seen from a corner shop.
Anyone fooled by the brief flurry of ‘toughness’ after the so-called riots should study the following case, which could be anywhere in Britain. I won’t say precisely where, as it might make things even worse for the victim.
‘My shop windows have been broken three times. My van – vital to my business – has also been attacked. Its wing mirrors have been torn off twice, it has been scratched deliberately
50 times and has bodywork dents from kicks and punches. The cost of fixing this damage – the van is leased – will bankrupt me.’
So Frank called the police. You would, wouldn’t you? They have proved most reluctant to act, fobbing him off with the ‘What do you expect us to do?’ attitude that has become infur¬iatingly familiar to so many ¬victims of this cruel anarchy.
One defeatist officer has actually told Frank that he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t pack up and move. His persecutors know this and have said to him: ‘We can do anything we like and you can’t do anything about it.’
As I read Frank’s graphic, terse letter, I suddenly noticed these words: ‘Such has been my despair, I sank to the level of trying to end it all last week – but I failed.’Since then the police have finally acted for justice, order and the rights of the free British subject to live unmolested in his home. They have threatened Frank with prosecution. Why? Because when one of his tormentors called him a ‘fat faggot’, he put his arm across the teenage monster’s chest. That’s all. I feel a moral panic coming on. (Peter Hitchens.)
Squalid Britain, seen from a corner shop.
Anyone fooled by the brief flurry of ‘toughness’ after the so-called riots should study the following case, which could be anywhere in Britain. I won’t say precisely where, as it might make things even worse for the victim.
The owner of a small corner off-licence (let us call him Frank) is 60. He works 15 hours a day, every day. He had a major heart attack two years ago and is waiting for knee replacements. The shop is also his home.When he opened it 23 years ago, the neighbourhood was respectable. Now it has fallen under the shadow of our moral decline (the one I am always told I am panicking about).
Bit by bit, the consequences of our mad school and social policies, and our unhinged subsidies for fatherless households, have borne their grim fruit.
Frank says: ‘One house, near my home, has 11 feral children, nearly all from different fathers. Most are barred from school and they run riot by day and by night. I have had to ban them from my shop because of the thieving and abuse.‘My shop windows have been broken three times. My van – vital to my business – has also been attacked. Its wing mirrors have been torn off twice, it has been scratched deliberately
50 times and has bodywork dents from kicks and punches. The cost of fixing this damage – the van is leased – will bankrupt me.’
So Frank called the police. You would, wouldn’t you? They have proved most reluctant to act, fobbing him off with the ‘What do you expect us to do?’ attitude that has become infur¬iatingly familiar to so many ¬victims of this cruel anarchy.
One defeatist officer has actually told Frank that he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t pack up and move. His persecutors know this and have said to him: ‘We can do anything we like and you can’t do anything about it.’
As I read Frank’s graphic, terse letter, I suddenly noticed these words: ‘Such has been my despair, I sank to the level of trying to end it all last week – but I failed.’Since then the police have finally acted for justice, order and the rights of the free British subject to live unmolested in his home. They have threatened Frank with prosecution. Why? Because when one of his tormentors called him a ‘fat faggot’, he put his arm across the teenage monster’s chest. That’s all. I feel a moral panic coming on. (Peter Hitchens.)
