Iteration the Thirteenth: The Europeans are Our Misfortune

As those of you who have been paying attention know, I am well known for my racism. (My Name Is Jon And I Am A Racist, `Snapping Point` 21-11-08).
I think that it is about time you all benefited from my superior knowledge and came to realize just how important it is that we all maintain a healthy racist attitude. So I am going to bestow upon you the benefit of my superior intellect. (All we racists have a superior intellect. That is why it is we and we alone who are fit to judge who may share the privildge, privalige
of living in this country . And of course a few lucky inferior people who are allowed to drive the buses and stuff. Whatever a bus is.)

It goes back a long way. To one of the first Ryans in fact...

Uhgggg C Ryan (we never did find out what the `C` stood for. That knowledge was lost along with Byrhtnoth Ryan at the battle of Maldon in 991) was, according to family legend, sitting outside his boutique cave late one morning in 20,009 BC, gnawing the last gristle from his breakfast mastodon and worrying about how long humanity could survive the onslaught of this new Fire that the authorities were insisting everyone should use. Did they have no thought of what it could do to the environment? How it was going to affect the next generation? Uhgggg had twenty children, (possibly more but that was all the fingers and toes he had) three of whom had not been eaten either by bears or each other.

When the Inspector of Fire turned up, Uhgggg, seeing that he was a stranger, wrinkled what may in a few more generations become a forehead, came upright, near enough, hitched up his chic wolfskin loincloth, and beat the man to death with a thighbone.

What else could he have done? The man was a stranger, and we all know what strangers do, don’t we?

They come over here, taking the kebabs out of the mouths of honest benefit claimants, they talk to our women about things other than football, they make us look stupid by doing the jobs that are quite properly beneath a proud Englishman and which should be left to, to... well, I’ve not got up to that bit in the UKIP manifesto yet. But you’d better believe that when we at UKIP come to power next month, the solution will be pretty damn devastating and no mistake! (The bit about UKIP how will reduce the 129 Members of the Scottish Parliament to 55 Scots Westminster MPs and the 60 Welsh Assembly Members to 32 Welsh Westminster MPs, as set out in A Constitutional and Governmental Policy for an Independent Britain; 3.3 West Lothian & English Questions (“a brilliant read” - R Kilroy Silk. ) is also a tad confusing. I thought we wanted to be a totally independent country, like the Scots want to be, but we are going to be totally independent WITH the Scots. And the Welsh. Oh, and the Irish as well. Some of the Irish. And, um, some of the Irish want to be independent of the rest of the Irish and the other Irish want to be independent with the English. And possibly the Cornish. Don’t the Cornish come into this somewhere?

And I’m not quite sure how Mr Farage (can you believe it, but some people have never heard of Mr Farage!) intends to get rid of the leftover Scottish MPs. It all seemed so simple when I joined. “Nothing more simple than a member of UKIP” I thought, after I had failed the BNP selection procedure (my knuckles just don’t drag properly, it seems).

A thighbone works pretty well.

I’m sure Mr Farage will soon tell me what I should think.

He always does.

VOTE UPIK! SAY NO TO SOME OF EUROPE! (BUT NOT ALL OF IT. I THINK. PROBABLY). YOU KNOW IT MAKES SENSE!

(UKIP, not UPIK. Sorry).

Jon Ryan 5th May 2009.