December 30, 2009

The Eighth Age Of Britain

As I sit here in front of my computer, looking out over snow-covered farms (thank Yahweh for global warming), yet another helicopter overflies my house, bound for the North Sea with 18 men and women on board. They will spend New Year exploring the sea bed for more oil or they will spend the time on a production platform ensuring that the black gold continues to head back to the refineries of Britain. I wonder how long those helicopters will continue to move people to and from those installations as we race towards peak oil. I wonder about the future of our nation a lot these days. What will it look like ten, twenty, or thirty years down the road?

Sometimes, to know where we are going, we need to know where we have been, and where we came from. My interest in history has increased exponentially of late. So, much to the chagrin of my herd, I parked my arse in front of the telly box yesterday and watched all seven one hour episodes of Bettany Hughes "Seven Ages Of Britain". It was fascinating, to say the least, and I thoroughly enjoyed the nine thousand year romp through our islands' history. If you get the chance, please watch it. If, like so many, you imagine that you have pure British blood coursing through your veins, you are in for a disappointment. Up to 40% of our DNA is Middle Eastern. We truly are a mongrel nation, and no amount of posturing by the BNP will change that fact.

The past is what it was. We cannot alter that, but we do have a say in what will be. Yesterday, my free copy of "Ten Years On- Britain Without The European Union" arrived, courtesy of The Taxpayers Alliance and it is, predictably, an incredible little book. It was, and is, my belief that the vast majority of Britons (can we still call ourselves that?) have absolutely no idea just how far those EU tentacles reach. For an idea of just how encroaching these unelected thieves are, here is a quote:

"If you traded something, made something, sold something, ran something, policed something, protected something, transported something, communicated something, fished something, grew something, burnt something, buried something, stored something, repaired something, bought something, spent something, exchanged something, taught something, learned something, powered something, healed something, published something, researched something, reported something, supported something, Brussels had a say in it".

We have managed without belonging to a European Superstate for over 2,000 years. This book asks if we can continue to manage without them. Their conclusion, unsurprisingly, mirrors my own: Yes, yes, yes indeed. We "voluntarily" pay in £60 million every day of every week of every month, every year. We get very little of the freshly laundered money back. And this at a time when we so desperately need to take care of our own, government created, debt. If ever there was a good time to say goodbye to the EU, it is now.

So I wondered what the Eighth Age Of Britain would look like to my grandchildren, or their grandchildren. Except we are no longer called Britain. Don't worry, that will be beaten out of us in the next five to ten years, along with our childish need to use our "British pounds". Feet and inches clearly belong to savages, as do silly things like miles and pounds and ounces. We will be assimilated, for there can only be one way, one rule, one law. Will future generations, bar-coded, tagged, micro-chipped and GPS'ed, (for their own safety, of course), look back with a wry shake of the head, and say "Can you believe they resisted for so long for such an out-moded concept as freedom?". We are being encouraged, right now, to take snapshots of buildings that dare to burn lights when no-one is in, and send them off to Stasi Central, so the Righteous can punish the miscreants. Our children are being interrogated at school on mum and dads behaviour. Do they smoke? Do they drink? Do they strap you in when driving? Do they recycle? If the kids answer incorrectly, an "Intervention Unit" will be along smartly to re-educate.

There must be an upside, surely? Yup. We now have no borders. We no longer need to show identification to travel within Europe. Give it a try, why don't you? I can't even fly from Aberdeen to fucking London with waving my passport at someone in a uniform. How the hell do I get to Prague, or Hamburg, or Amsterdam without showing the Stasi that I am a legitimate European? The law says that I do not need a passport to leave or enter my own country, unless we are at war with a sovereign nation. The last time I looked, no such condition existed. It hasn't, in fact, since the end of WWII. Our "differences" with other nations have been mere "conflicts" or "disputes". Understatements all, particularly when you consider how many brave servicemen and women gave their lives, their legs, their eyes or their sanity, to take part in these "disputes". I was fortunate during my seven years with the British Army not to visit those places where lead poisoning at the speed of sound was prevalent. I sort of regretted that at the time, but not any longer. Today, I wouldn't risk a fingernail for this country. It is no longer mine. It is no longer ruled by the monarch I served. It is no longer governed by British politicians. It no longer has control over her own destiny. On 1st December 2009 we entered servitude. We became serfs of the superstate. 61 million people lost their nationhood, their identities, their ethnicity, their law, their opinions, and their freedom.

Will our grandchildren thank us for this? Will they say we did the right thing by doing absolutely nothing to prevent this cancerous growth? Will they say we were right not to rebel?

I think not.

Welcome to Britains Eighth Age. The Age Of Control. The Age Of Serfdom.

This is slavery in all but name.

I am disgusted with you. I am disgusted that you stood by and allowed this to happen.

I am disgusted with myself. I am disgusted that I stood by and allowed this to happen.

But mostly, I am frightened for my children. And their children.

At best, I have another 30 years to endure this. My death releases me, but before that time comes, I will fight. And fight.

And fight.



Jenkins said...

Perhaps the children born into their world will regard it as the norm. Brought up in an airbrushed fantasy of "truth" they don't have the knowledge of what has been lost that we the elders remember. I doubt if i have three years left let alone thirty, and as much as i love living the fight is rapidly draining from this clapped out weapon.
More power to you for carrying the battle on behalf of the Winston Smiths of tomorrow.
Happy New Year.

Captain Ranty said...

Mr Jenkins,

The next three years may see change. At the very least you have time to unbrainwash a few younglings, no?

The 30 years I picked are purely arbitrary, of course. I may die tonight running my significant other to work, or I may live to 120 because of, and not despite, my smoking. (It worked for Jeanne Calment, the worlds oldest living human and smoker. She died at 124, having quit smoking at 119).

I would prefer to shuffle off this mortal coil resisting the jackboot though. To die simply because you had lived, seems to me a trivial reason.

We can ALL make a difference.

I wish you everything you wish for yourself. Have a great 2010.


I am Stan said...

Inspirational Capitan...inspirational!

Captain Ranty said...

Thou art too kind, mon amis.


Jenkins said...

Not having had a family myself i have no contact with young people, and under the gaze of the gauleiters that maintain vigilance over society, do not wish to be in the proximity of a generation of innocents, for fear of the lynch mob mentality that these jackbooted nazi's employ. That's what the bastards have done to us. By criminalising the entertainment of watching kiddies play, the connection between the old and the new has all but been severed. As a single elderly pensioner, where's my safe environment to socialise with all generations? I couldn't give a monkey's if HM government stiffed me with a FTAC or a suicide jockey's saddlebags heading for Downing Street. In fact i'd wear that as a badge of honour, but to have Ed Balls use me as a patsy is a nightmare that i'd prefer to avoid.
I would take an arbitrary future bet like a shot,but it's too late for me to march into battle. The army's stomach has mostly been removed and what's left struggles to gain sustainance from mere material spoonfeeds. That's why i took the opportunity of a relatively calm day to visit your trench and warm myself on your brazier.
I don't go gently into the night willingly silent, but as my cries will pass as a distraction amongst strangers, i can only encourage those with an audience to rage for us old soldiers.

Captain Ranty said...

Mr J,

Your encouragement will suffice. It is pleasing to know that you are fully aware of the scam, the control, and the gross negligence of those we pay (far too much) to run (ruin?) this country.

I'll crack on and I will be glad of your support. Things are bound to go tits up because my intention is to rock their world and change mine. Only one of us will win. Pray that it is me.

I will reserve a special place for you by the brazier.

Stay well,


banned said...

We have been approaching Peak Oil ever since the phrase was invented to scare us back in the 70s yet there is something like 4 times as much oil awaiting extraction now than there was then and the amount increses every year. Its what a market economy does and why the lefties keep quiet about it now.

As for the 8th Age Of Britain. I don't have children so it is not a personal concern. Those few youngsters that I might mention the EU or climategate to know nothing and care less.
Ignorance may well be bliss.

Happy New Year to you and keep up the good fight.

Captain Ranty said...


I have been in the oil industry for just over 20 years. It is very much a boom & bust industry. Over those 20 years I have seen hundreds of thousands of men & women lose their jobs, only to be re-hired when the price of a barrel picks up. Many have given up and the average age of an offshore worker is now 51, with no newbies joining us. Engineering, Environment, Geological, and associated Science graduates are few and far between. Students are now selecting other industries to work in. It will end badly for us all. It really is feast or famine, but I have been lucky enough to retain steady employment since 1988.

Peak Oil? There are two theories: 1) biological and b) abiological. The first suggests that oil (in reservoirs, oil sands etc) is a finite resource and the second insists that oil is self-replenishing (from under the earths mantle IIRC) but either way, Big Oil continues to explore and they continue to find mammoth fields. Also, recovery techniques are getting better all the time so that once-marginal fields are now economically viable to produce. That notwithstanding, North Sea oil depletes by 7% per year so we have fewer North Sea jobs. The answer? Travel to shitty areas of the world where there is more oil to be recovered, and the pay is usually much better. (Mostly because of the dangers-kidnap & ransom, terrorism, and poorly observed safety standards).

Da yoof? Yes, you are (sadly) correct. Walk down any street and you hear them on the mobies saying inane shit. All the time. But who can blame them? We don't prepare kids for life. We don't teach them anything worth knowing. The opposite in fact, we arm them to the teeth with shit they will never need and we ensure that they learn nothing that will serve them in the big bad world.

Desperate days indeed. We clearly cannot rely on them for support if they have no clue that there is something amiss.

Thank you for your good wishes. I return them tenfold. It has been an absolute pleasure spending time at your place and I have learned much.