Is there a statistic on that? 1, How many Brits left and how many foreigners came?*
* With the possible inclusion of the gazzilions in Calais waiting to cross the Channel, after already having passed through a dozen other wealthy E.U. nations. 2, What’s is it? The famed British cuisine? Glorious weather?
1. It doesn't matter how many left or did not; the entire point is about the right to do so if you feel like it. It's about the freedom of the
individual to make that call. Americans, both new or old, should appreciate that concept more than most people. Even the gunslingers cite it as the bodies fall.
2. I think there are two main parts, but as I'm not of the same origins, there could well be distinct lures in the UK of which I am not aware.
Those two of which I am apprised might be: (a) the relative ease in the UK for certain factions to insinuate themelves into the state's welfare systems; (b) the fact that unlike in most European lands, the Brits are shocked at the very idea of identity cards, thought they proudly carry a driving licence [since living in Spain I am obliged, as is everyone else, to carry one at all times; it, along with my medical card and driving permit (all three with snap included), has proved its worth in gold far more often than any golden Amex card I do not own might have. But such conveniences are an obvious threat to your freedom.].
A country that has decided largely to oblige its police forces to overlook the very ethnicities that might have members with a desire to blow the indigenous whites to smithereens, on the grounds of "fairness" and discrimination, is not far removed from institutional madness. This latter provides the ease with which people can simply disappear within the diaspora never to be found or recorded again. Once living safely within you ethnic ghetto, who's gonna blow your cover? If you don't even have to produce any ID to the police in suspicious circumstances, you have got it made, no?
When I can, I look for the Spanish newspaper
Ultima Hora, not because it's a particularly edifying read (it would probably go right over the top of my head if it were), but for the short columns from a writer called Enrique Lázaro, who has a particular talent for the dry, clever yet simple-sounding mickey-take. Today, his theme was about tone, as in conversation/communication. He writes that it doesn't matter what you say or write, because nobody listens to you nor reads the words, but that what is all important is the tone in which you express what you express. How true.
Walking through the stuff on the hard at the local marina about an hour or two ago, I saw an obstruction that was simply irresistible, so I tumbed head over heels over it. It was a small mast. As I picked myself up, a little crowd of people working on the vessels gathered about the scene - made it, in fact - and one, a lady walking with her husband, told me that one has to be very careful in such places because it is terribly easy to trip... I could only agree, but I hope that I did so using the right tone.
Fortunately, the only damage was to my pride - not that there's much left by now - and the creation of a nice skinless zone on my left palm; this I doused with chemist's alcohol when I got home, thus enjoying the pleasures of a really high burn, hopefully fatal to marina germs. My Levi's and a windcheater are now in the washing machine, where I hope they discard the fine cement colour that was never a part of the original design. Hard to get bored as you grow old.
;-)
