Gosh. It’s so sad I’m in bits over the Laws business. The millionaire had to loot our pockets to keep his private life private, he says.

Such nobility, such sacrifice!

Aye, if only we could do likewise. Keep our private lives private, I mean, not steal from others under the violence of law.

Please excuse me, but at least as much as not telling on our sexuality, our privacies include the freedom to enjoy our possessions free from the grasping hand of government, eh Laws?

Here’s an idea, old man; give up your seat and rejoin civil society.

Cameron can be forgiven for feeling chuffed with himself. For Her Majesty, he’s merely the audience and it’s just another day at the office. She’s known them all since  Sir Winston Churchill. Astonishing.

The words of G.K. Chesterton ring true this day more than most of our present crop of politicians care to admit. He wrote of the ‘Secret People of England, who have not spoken yet’. He foretold of the shadow of the European Union, and their ‘directives’ and ‘legislative desires’ in the words:-

They have given us into the hands of the new unhappy lords, 

Lords without anger and honour, who dare not carry their swords. 

They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes; 

They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.

And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs, 

Their doors are shut in the evenings; and they know no songs.

The shadow of the ‘Expenses Saga’ will darken, I hope, the ‘bright new dawn’ promised by the Tories and the Lib-Dems from the pall thrown by the scum which were New Labour. I would give almost anything to watch if all three parties were dealt a bloody nose by the secret strength of the English majority. I know and acknowledge that I have many times written irreverently and harshly of the ‘sheep’ who are treated so badly by those who are given the votes. Those same votes which have been bought so dearly by our British blood over the centuries, the blood spilt from fields as far apart as Gallipoli, Trafalgar, the lines of Torres Vedras, Flanders; in  the deeps of the Atlantic to the skies over Kent in 1940. 

To see tomorrow morning a true sea-change in the way we are governed will, very likely, not come to pass. To watch as a procession of Independents, of English Democrats, of a platoon of the stalwarts of U.K.I.P., of even a single supporter of the derided B.N.P. marching towards the gates and seats of Westminster would be extremely unlikely. Yes, unlikely, but oh, how I, and millions of others who occasionally switch off the ‘box’, turn away from the ‘editorials’ from the newspaper editors; and decide how We wish to live, and be governed; would love to awaken tomorrow morning and see that derisive smile wiped off the collective faces of the political elite.

But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet. Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget!

Essex today, and the church of St Andrew, Greensted-Juxta-Ongar is looking glorious. It has several claims to fame; it’s reputed to be the one of the oldest timber buildings in Europe and is certainly the only wooden Saxon church to survive in England. Some claim it is the oldest wooden church in the world.

It is also a shrine to the first Saxon saint, Saint Edmund, whose body reputedly rested on this site on its way to reburial at Bury St.Edmunds in 1013. Adjacent to the porch is the 12th Century grave of a Crusader.

Although a beautiful corner of the great and ancient county of Essex, the church has a connection with the Tolpuddle Martyrs of Dorset. These farm labourers were transported to Australia in 1834 for organising the first trade union. They were later re-patriated back to Britain but were refused permission to return to Dorset. They settled for a time in these here parts and one, James Brine, married the daughter of another, Elizabeth Standfield, at this church in June 1839.

I like walking this way and my thoughts invariably turn to Saxon homesteads and more than a thousand years of human gatherings. Yet today, while sitting in the churchyard during a stroll with the sun beating down from an unblemished blue sky something else came to mind: why is European airspace closed for yet another day, who will cook my Sunday roast tomorrow and where is this volcanic ash cloud?

We already spend a fortune on trying to educate the underclass, on top of various other social leveling projects, to no effect. Gordon Brown has spent enormous amounts of other people’s money on the poorest 10 per cent, and yet inequality is greater than ever. You can’t fix a broken society like that because society is glued together by morality, not money.

Ed West suggests that Old Labour was infinitely preferable to New Labour, a view which someone around here (modesty forbids) has long propounded.

Do read it all.

Old Labour, for all its (many) faults, was a patriotic, socially conservative movement which believed in the dignity and responsibility of the working class. The current party has travelled so far from this tradition it isn’t remotely comparable.

IT’S always a pleasure to hear a patriot speak, although (God help us) we learn that President von Rumpy Pumpy has a Ten Year Economic Plan. Aye, always a plan, never an ounce of shame nor the slightest historical awareness. Hope springs eternal for Euro pig iron production.

I wish Nigel Farage all the best against the Buckingham swindler.

BRITAIN’S B&Bs could soon be prosecuted for discrimination unless they offer customers the choice of a gay cooked breakfast.

Ministers want to extend the current legislation that requires all hotels and guest houses to ensure the availability of at least two gay beds at all times or at least one very large one […]

Tom Logan, professor of overnight accommodation politics at Reading University, said: “It is a pain to have to check if it’s okay to sleep bottom to bottom with another human being, but unfortunately some bed and breakfasts are run by little old ladies who go to church, volunteer at a local charity shop and have never had all their friends round to drink daquiris and watch the Queer as Folk box set.

“And while she may be a shrivelled old bigot, filled with stupid fear, when she says that it’s her house, she does have a fairly large, throbbing point.”

 … you’re not sure if it’s actual news or the Daily Mash.

Government is great. Taxes are great. We must pay them for our own good. If you disagree, the state will steal your property and crush it. You have been warned, with menaces. For your own good.

Here then is the latest polite reminder to pay taxes, for your own good, on behalf of the parasite state.

But don’t try this at home. If you or I demanded payment with menaces incurring theft and the destruction of private property, we’d be criminal filth.

Just like the DVLA Taxes are great.

To any foreigners looking in from a land of liberty, that is not a spoof, it is a real advert, it actually is how the state communicates with the unfree people of Great Britain.

I see and read that Ray Gosling, a ‘veteran’ documentary maker and broadcaster has admitted to smothering his ‘bit on the side’ homosexual lover after the homosexual partner developed AIDs in what was probably yet another hedonistic and random encounter in his search for ‘pleasure’ and ‘fulfillment’. I wrote ‘probably’ because obviously I do not know the circumstances of this person’s disease, but knowing the odds, I would place good money against the onset of his AIDS by a ‘Blood Transfusion!

Now whatever the ATW readership thinks of homosexual relationships, whether fleeting or ‘permanent’, one is drawn to the inescapable fact that Gosling is guilty of manslaughter at least, if not murder. He tries to defend his actions by repeatedly stating that he has ‘no agenda’, and that his actions were those of a ‘mercy killing’ after an agreement between him and his disease-ridden homosexual partner.

As many people who read these pages will have personal knowledge of non-self-inflicted long-term illness of loved ones, I am wondering if any have any sympathy for this self-serving killer, or do they believe, as I do, that he should be looking forward to a swift discussion with his local friendly Police Force, who are sworn, however unwillingly, to uphold the Laws of this Land?

THE tragedy for the British Empire was that it was taken over by the fools and communists who have ruined our own nation. When it wasn’t ‘run’ at all, it was the greatest force for peace and civilisation in the history of humanity.

Of course, now that those same blue fools and red communists have overturned British culture, invented a fictional narrative and fostered almost total ignorance of our glorious heritage, denigration of the stunning achievements of our ancestors is the official line. The ultimate tragedy for the British Empire was a tragedy for locals fortunate enough to be within the once benevolent embrace of British Civilisation yet left abandoned when our fools and commies cut and ran. It was a lesson learned hard but not forgotten:

“I am sorry about what happened,” said Ahmed Mighali Said, 77, who fought the British Army in the bloody four-year uprising known as the Aden Emergency, which ended with Britain’s withdrawal in 1967. “Under the British we had peace. The Yemeni fighters were ignorant. I hope the British come back.”

We’d love to have you back in the fold old chum, but I fear you’d find the place somewhat changed. For one thing, Britain is a little different now and nothing like the moral force you once knew. Much obliged anyway.

“It was a great mistake,” said one former fighter, now a grizzled old man. “People didn’t know any better. It was an emotional response born out of Arab nationalism and Nasserite revolutionary feelings. If the British came back, we would sign a protocol saying we are sorry.”

Up off your knees Abdul, you weren’t the only revolutionaries in Moscow’s pocket to get all uppity. That’s why they bought you. In fact there were plenty of revolutionaries loyal to Moscow over here. Most of’em found their way into the Establishment. That’s half the reason why you’d find the place changed somewhat.

Still nice of you to confirm what patriots and conservatives have known and said in the face of Left Wing propaganda. Times have changed and the Glory of the World has passed, most unfortunately. For one thing we’re bankrupt, for another we’re governed by by Johnny Continental now. Yep, the last thirty years have been somewhat revolutionary here as well as there. When we hang our fools and commies and again govern ourselves, we’ll see what we can do. In the meantime, it’s gratifying to see the glory still shines through:

There are still many signs of the 130-year British occupation in this strategic port sheltered by the spectacular dark cliffs of a volcano. Its Crater district — the old city is built within the caldera — was the centre of the last war fought by the dying British Empire.

The Crescent Hotel, where the Queen stayed in 1954, is closed but standing, and neat little Anglican churches still serve dwindling congregations. The old bookstore, Aziz’s, barely survives, selling yellowed tomes on Boy Scouting and London guidebooks with photos of Britain’s thriving manufacturing industry.

The occasional Morris Minor or Austin has been kept on the road, in mint condition, weaving among the battered Toyotas past former barracks that are now teeming tenements.

Makes you proud.