The Fall of England: not with a bang, but a whimper

The United Kingdom may surrender without a civil war.

I’m currently writing a novel set in Ireland a few years hence. In this excerpt, an Englishman is explaining the surrender of England to Islam from his own perspective. Because my novel centers on Irish resistance to the evil twins of globalism and Islamism, I didn’t want to write a long treatise on a possible civil war in the UK. In my novel, Ireland is where these twin forces reach their high-water mark and the pushback begins, after they have defeated most of the rest of Europe.

Jim Donovan is an American photojournalist who has just come over to Ireland on a fifty-foot sailboat carrying 900 guns. Terry Flynn is a motorcycle mechanic from Dublin. Harry is a Brit-Irish refugee from Manchester, England. This scene takes place in the kitchen of a pub in Tralee, in County Kerry, in the southwest of Ireland.

In this story, the GPS is a clandestine resistance group called the Gaelic Preservation Society.

CHAPTER 8: HARRY’S MANCHESTER STORY

Harry brought over a tray with two steaming mugs, a glass of milk and a pot of honey. He placed them on the table and sat down.

Flynn added some milk, then sipped his tea and said, “God-awful shite. It’s African, I think, and there’s no sugar at all. You know, Jim, Ireland used to make sugar from beets, but now we don’t grow sugar beets, because of one bleedin’ EU regulation or other, and now we can’t afford to import the stuff. But at least we have milk and honey, which is more than most of them have in Dublin. So, Harry, our new friend here is an American journalist, and I’m thinking that he’ll be interested in your story, too.”

The man sighed. “My story? Well, I suppose so. I don’t like tellin’ it—bad memories—but if it’s for the cause, I’ll do it.” He sighed again and sipped his tea, then stirred in some honey. “It’s shite awful, but at least it’s tea. Donovan, is it? The sailboat with all the American guns?”

“Yeah, that’s me, but I was just a hitchhiker.” So much for opsec. Did anybody in County Kerry not know about the Sunbeam’s secret voyage?

“Well, that makes you good enough in my book, mate, and thanks. Okay, so I was born in Salford, in England. Salford is on the west side of Manchester, but it’s really all one giant metropolitan area today. Greater Manchester, they call it—but there’s nothing great about it if you ask me.

“My granddad emigrated from Cork to Liverpool in the 1960s when he was a lad, just lookin’ for work and a better life. England allowed him to make a life for himself, and he met a young lass, my grandma. My own parents moved to Salford. I visited Ireland a few times with me Mam and Dad, but that’s as far as it went. So, I grew up in England. Life wasn’t easy, but me Mam and Dad did their best and I had a good upbringing.

“That changed over the years, and come the 2010s it was shite in Manchester, what with the drugs n’ crime. It was overrun by foreigners, and I don’t mean Irish like my Granddad. Lots of them Poles come over when the Iron Curtain came down. They were all right. They tried to fit in, and they were Christians, mostly Roman Catholics. No, the worst of the lot were them Muslims. They already had mosques everywhere you looked, but it just went out of control in the 2010s. Remember, Manchester has a big international airport; you can go anywhere and likewise back. They come in by the planeload straight from Pakistan and everywhere else, and they run the entire show at the Manchester airport. Customs and immigration are a complete joke—they run all that.

“I’m sure you heard about all the rape gangs—grooming gangs, they called them. English lasses couldn’t go anywhere without being called whores and sluts. Couldn’t get on a bus or a tram without being grabbed by Muslim lads and men. If they hailed a cab, the hack might drive her to some place where his pals were waiting, and they’d gang rape her. We never saw the like, never. Couldn’t imagine. English girls were just whores to them, because they were infidels and they weren’t wearing that hijab thingy. And the worst of it was the English Bobbies were on the side of the rape gangs. Lots of the cops in Manchester were Muslims by then—immigrant cops—and they just didn’t care about English lasses being snatched off the street and raped. It didn’t bother them at all.

“And in the end, it turned out that some of the police were in the rape gangs—but it was all covered up for years and years. Decades, even. Do you remember, it was a few years back, but the government let them set up their own Shariah Law family courts? So, naturally they believed that they were living under Islamic law—and that included how they could abuse our poor English girls. Since they were infidels, they were fair game to them Pakistani rape gangs. And even to the Paki police.

“In the 2020s we started to stand up and push back. You know, Tommy Robinson and all the flags, but it was already too late. The Reform Party talked about deportations, but nothing ever come of it. It was too late, if you’re asking me. Then they started putting up Sharia law signs, and nobody took them down. Islamic Law Is Practiced Here, they said in English and Arabic, with a list of do’s and don’ts. No alcohol and no pork to be sold. No dogs and no uncovered women outside. The signs started going up in the city centre, and they spread out from there. And not just in Manchester, but all across England in their Islamic Shariah zones.

“And proper painted metal signs they were, screwed onto trees and telephone poles. They were set up high enough so you’d need a ladder to take them down, but nobody ever dared to touch them, and especially not the police, those fucking cowards. After they screwed the signs in, they’d ream out the Philips-head on the screws with a drill so you couldn’t unscrew them. Or they were put onto metal street poles with those metal banding straps. It would take some time to pry them off with a crowbar, and the Muslim lads would be on you before that. And hundreds of them were put up in a week, so what would be the point of taking down one or two, here or there?

“Then more rules come down. No infidel music was to be played in public, but the call to prayer was blasted from loudspeakers five times a day. No mingling of men and women in public. Men-only cafés and restaurants. No pubs. Halal everything. Then, when people were getting used to the signs, they started up with what they called cultural guides, but Shariah police is what they were. Muslim men from the Middle East and Africa riding around in cars, and always two cars, so maybe eight of the blokes. And more of them two-up on motorbikes, just scoutin’ around. Manchester might as well have been in Pakistan or Syria, and it was the same in Birmingham and a dozen other cities. They were markin’ out their territory. It was a takeover, is what it was.”

“Didn’t your government do anything about it?” Donovan asked him. “What about the police?”

“The police? The police just follow orders. The government is what you mean, those fucking traitors and cowards. They said that no laws were being broken. Remember, they already had their own Shariah courts. Labour and the Conservatives just spoke about ‘dealing with the new political landscape.’

“Let me tell you how it affected me. I’m a trained chef, and I had me own fish n’ chip shop. We’d get robbed and vandalized almost on a weekly basis, and customers would skip out without paying. The cops couldn’t be bothered, not in the least. They’d tell me ‘the area was changing, maybe it’s not the place for your lot anymore.’

“My lot? You mean English? Then as soon as the police left, I’d get offers from people I knew were connected to the Paki gangs doing the vandalizing. They wanted to buy me out for a pittance. It was all shakedowns, mafia-style. The police didn’t want to hear about it, wouldn’t even take a report. No, they accused me of bein’ racially biased. It was pretty clear whose side the cops were on, and it wasn’t mine. But English neighbors who made derogatory comments about the Paki gangs on social media, oh, well, the cops come down on them like a ton of bricks! Hauled them right down to the police station, threatening them to shut up. And that was going on years ago. It was a constant struggle just to stay in business.

“There was all the flag wavin’ for a spell, but nothing really come of it. Labour and the Conservatives were equally useless. Then Reform ramped up their talk about remigration, and for a time it looked like it might actually happen. And that’s when their guns came out.

“It happened on the same Friday, all across England. AK-47s were passed out in the mosques at their Friday afternoon prayers, and they added up to thousands of guns, all at once. It was like a mass swearing-in ceremony when they formed up in lines outside their mosques. And sharpish too, just like a real military, with all of them wearing black trousers and khaki shirts and black berets. They didn’t walk into the mosques dressed that way, but that’s how they all come out. Anybody can wear the clothes they like, right? There’s no law against dressing that way, is there? But when there’s a hundred of them dressed that way at the same time, outside all the mosques, well, then it’s a uniform, all right. It happened on a Friday right across England in their no-go zones: black and tan uniforms, and AK-47s. Their territory was already marked out with their Shariah Law signs, right? Ah, we shoulda seen it comin’ from bleedin’ outer space!

“Nobody could fuckin’ believe it, but there it was. With all the planning it took, the MI-5 and Scotland Yard just had to know. If you ask me, it was a planned surrender, like in Singapore. That happened a month after Pearl Harbor, in 1942. Did they teach you Yanks about Singapore? That was under our General Arthur Percival. The British and Aussie troops outmanned and outgunned the Japs two-to-one, but that Percival surrendered the lot to them!

“Singapore is a big island; it’s right under Malaysia. Well, when the Japanese were marching south, Percival wouldn’t let his troops dig trenches or put artillery in the golf courses and country clubs up by the Johore Strait. No, he said it would be bad for morale, can you fucking believe it? It would be defeatist. But as soon as he heard the Japanese cannons firing, he fucking surrendered all his 80,000 troops to them—and the Japanese were almost out of shells! They were runnin’ on empty, just pulling a bluff! And that’s why the Japs treated our troops so rough, building them Burma railroads and all that. The Japanese thought the British and Aussie soldiers had no honor, because they laid down their arms without putting up a fight—even though they outnumbered the Japs two-to-one!

“And that’s exactly what happened in England, because the lords and the richy-rich elites didn’t want to fight. Them billionaires had their own wealth all locked down, and they didn’t want to rock the boat. No, they just wanted to glide into a new arrangement where they could still live like lords out on their fancy estates. It was like that movie Braveheart: the rich nobles will always sell out their own people to hold onto their castles and their lands. And the worst of it all was when the bloody king converted to Islam. That was the worst.

“And then the ‘cultural guides’ were renamed the Islamic Self-Defence Force, the ISDF, but everybody called them the Shariah police. The Greater Manchester cops were told to just keep the fuck out, and thank you very much, because henceforth the Muslims would police themselves, in their own new Islamic territories, stretching right across England! And then all our British Muslim cops switched over to the ISDF anyway—and no major shock there.

“I was only renting a flat and leasing my shop, and when they started carrying AK-47s, that’s when I knew England ’twas done, and that’s when I decided to mog off. I left with what I could carry and came over on the Dublin ferry. It was useless to try to sell my stuff. I walked out on my leases, and I left thousands of quid behind in kitchen equipment alone. It was a mass exodus from the Shariah zones, but there was no market, nobody to sell to. No buyers, just thousands of happy Muslims moving into all of the ‘newly available properties.’ Except where people burned down their own places to keep the Muslims from taking them over. There was a lot of arson on the way out, but it didn’t change a thing. I was tempted to burn me own shop, but I couldn’t do it. I’d put too much into it.”

Donovan asked him, “Were you married? Family?”

“Divorced, no kids. She left for Canada a few years ago.” Harry sighed, and continued. “Dublin was already a fucking shite-show; especially with all of us English refugees pouring in on top of everybody else, so I kept headin’ west until I landed here in County Kerry, where at least they’re making a fighting stand. And I’ll probably never see jolly old Blighty again, but I don’t give a flyin’ fuck, because it ain’t England no more. It’s been conquered, done in by traitors and cowards—traitors and cowards holding open the door for their own black and brown jihad invaders. But now I’m back in the land of my granddad, and it’s right here that I’m makin’ me own stand. And, by God, I’ll stand behind Séamus McVeigh and his GPS lads until the day I die! And a few more brave English lads have come over, and we’re all done with runnin’ away. Oh, we’re all done with that! And now, thanks to your lot, we have the guns.”

* * * * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m halfway through writing the novel, its working title is The Stolen Emerald, but that name is not final.

The possibility of a civil war in the UK is gaining a lot of traction lately, notably with the publication of essays by military historian David Betz.

Following on the work of David Betz and others, a writer who goes by the pen name El Inglés is publishing a fictional tale of civil war in the UK in the Gates of Vienna blog. Here is his most recent offering.

For my own novel I described an alternative, the step-by-step surrender of England to Islam. If you read about the fall of Singapore in January of 1942, you can see how a clique of cowards at the top can surrender entire armies without a fight. The 1942 American experience in the Philippines is another case study. The film Braveheart also covers this dynamic very well, as mentioned above in Harry’s story.

Now back to my forthcoming novel about Ireland. Is it really possible that arms could be smuggled into Europe, the UK or Ireland in bulk? Yes, it is. This is a drum I have been banging for years. Just do a search for “arms found near mosque.” This is just one article is from 2016. How many more containers and truckloads of arms have been brought into Europe since then? Especially since the beginning of the war in Ukraine, with a large percentage of our donated American and NATO weapons missing and unaccounted for? Military frag grenades are used almost daily by Mohamedden gangs in Sweden. AK-47s are fired on occasion.

In my opinion, not only are more “Bataclan” attacks a possibility, but so is a mass “breakout” of armed Islamists as described by Harry in my novel. Does the fact that this particular German arms cache was discovered give you solace? It does not comfort me. I believe that our enemies learn from their mistakes and constantly improve their operational security.

Please ask yourself the question: What is easier to smuggle into England or Ireland? 2,000 military-age men from Islamic countries, or one twenty-foot cargo container?

These ubiquitous containers move across our highways and through our cities and towns on roll-off trucks without getting a second look. They can be stored in warehouses or out on rural farm properties, just waiting to be dropped off in cities. Or for the day when their hidden weapons will be passed out en masse in many mosques at the same time, as described in Harry’s version of the surrender of England.

Now, for those who are disturbed by the idea of a novel where 900 guns are smuggled into Ireland in order to resist the population replacement genocide currently ongoing there, the number 900 was not chosen at random. Instead, it’s a direct echo from Irish history, from just over a century ago. Just search for the voyage of the Asgard, or Gunrunning at Howth.

Shortly before noon on a hot, blue-skied Sunday morning in July 1914, a white sail floated out from behind Lambay Island and began to nonchalantly make its way towards the small port of Howth, writes historian Turtle Bunbury.

Asgard was on the home straight from one of the most daring gunrunning missions in modern history.

At the helm was Erskine Childers, the best-selling spy novelist of the day.

Over the previous three weeks, he had skippered the two-masted yacht out to meet a German tugboat in the North Sea from which he received a cargo of 900 Mauser rifles and 29,000 rounds of ammunition.

The weapons were destined for the hands of the Irish Volunteers who had pledged to defend Home Rule for Ireland.

The importance of this iconic vessel’s role in shaping Irish history is considerable. Its cargo was to play a pivotal role in arming the rebels of 1916.

Without the rifles smuggled into Ireland in 1914, there would have been no 1916 Easter uprising, and possibly no Republic of Ireland. Erskine Childers and his gunrunning compatriots are now considered Irish patriots and heroes.

My next novel begins with an American sailboat landing 900 rifles in Ireland, arms meant to resist the evil twin forces of globalization and Islamization that threaten the very future survival of the Irish race on Ireland.

Already a third of the population of Éire was born elsewhere, and soon Irish men under the age of thirty will be outnumbered by fighting-age male “refugees,” mostly coming from Islamic countries. The current Irish government is run by globalist traitors who are coopted by and beholden to foreign masters from Brussels to Qatar. These traitors are holding open the door for ever greater numbers of hostile military-age men. My novel is about what might be coming over the horizon, if Ireland is to have a future as a sovereign nation, and the Irish people will survive in their only homeland.

Bracken, standing by on channel 16.

Or, on X at @Matt_Bracken48

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