Gstaad
Blah, blah, blah! I’ve heard it all before. We are all swivel-eyed fanatics, racists and right-wing extremists. And we’re also bigots because we believe in Jesus Christ. Today is my name day, the Day of the Assumption, but please don’t ask me how my parents got Taki out of it — Panagia, Panagiotaki, Taki — that is all I can tell you in my limited English.
So I stepped out into my garden overlooking the wooded hills of Gstaad early this morning and began yelling Allahu Akbar at the top of my voice, like those nice guys do down south and also in London, Amsterdam, Brussels, Paris, Stockholm, Copenhagen and other major western cities they pay for their keep. Allah, Allah, I kept screaming, until some Swiss walkers heard me and motioned me to quiet down. ‘Mais enfin, monsieur, nous ne sommes pas dans une mosque,’ said the rudest of them all. Good old Swiss burgers. They will pay for their politeness and tolerance sooner rather than later. Geneva is full of Africans and Muslims, a powder keg but not as yet. Here in Gstaad it’s fine while out of season. Come August, the southern types arrive, especially after London got too hot for them last week. What a story.
Even an ex-sainted one, Boris, got it wrong. The cuts, what cuts? The great Maggie came to power with one priority. The unions had to take second place to parliament, no ifs or buts about it. The idiotic Scargill gave her the opportunity, and we know the rest. Then the do-gooders began to chip away at her, and before you knew it the criminal justice system broke down and now we have a Prime Minister talking tough again. Nothing is going to happen. Not as long as people like Harriet Harman play politics while the cities burn.
No use overstating things. When cells are called rooms because they infringe on criminal youths’ human rights, the good guys cannot win. The sink estates were long ago surrendered to the gangs; black thugs have been treated softly-softly as policy; racial tensions involve turf wars between Nigerians, Jamaicans, Albanians and Kurds; and sweet, nice people like Taki are threatened with racial incitement when they dare mention the truth. The media went bananas over Rupert Murdoch, then the gangs went bananas over the shooting of a black gangster, then Britain’s cities went aflame, punto basta, as they say in the land of pasta. And I wake up screaming Allahu Akbar at the top of my voice in the bucolic setting of Gstaad. As Blucher told Wellington at the end of the battle of Waterloo, ‘Quelle affaire!’
They say that we have built a culture based on wealth and celebrity — which we certainly have — but does that entitle youths to go out and loot? Here in Gstaad you have some awfully rich people who show off mightily and disgustingly. But I don’t see any young Swiss throwing rocks and plundering the expensive boutiques that line the main street of the village. That’s because if they do they will go to prison for a long stretch and no one will write excuses for them à la Charlie Gilmour. (Who in a sense is the patron saint of the gangsters, their Captain Cook, their first martyr.)
And another thing. The Swiss work, as do their youth. No one stays in bed until midday on benefits and can afford drugs and booze also on benefits. I don’t know the statistics concerning marriage, but I don’t see many Swiss women out hooking whose children’s father is out looting. No, the collapse of the PIGS and the riots in Britain should confirm what many Swiss know. Europe is a rotting carcass and they should stay as far from it as possible. And I like what David Starkey said, that the English language has become a Jamaican patois and that is why so many British people think of themselves as being in a foreign country. Good old Enoch, he knew what he was talking about, but now we dare not use his name. As I said at the start, blah, blah, blah, we are all racists and Harriet Harman will put us right, as will the BBC and Jon Snow.
All David Cameron needed to do as soon as he got into office was to follow Iain Duncan Smith’s initiatives where welfare policy is concerned. The Centre for Social Justice, which was IDS’s brainchild, has produced all the recommendations he would ever need to stop the rot of people living off other people’s taxes while drinking and taking drugs. Iain Duncan Smith should be allowed to finish his work on social issues, then become a sort of tsar of the underclass, an all-powerful minister extraordinaire to deal with broken Britain. Anything else is bs. Ken Clarke should be shown the door, and unceremoniously at that, Cameron should immediately go to the polls and ask who rules Britain, and the absolute must is to scrap the Human Rights Act now that the scrapping is hot. A prime ministerial ukase: no foreign judge is going to tell us how to deal with criminals. If he follows Taki’s advice, he will win big time, but don’t hold your breath. The world is in a snarl because our so-called leaders still follow Karl — as in Marx — as do the Fifth Columnists who go under the name of the Fourth Estate. Allahu, Allahu Akbar!
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