There are many words to describe the British economy, but they would unlikely include ‘dynamic’ or ‘optimistic’. In a mystery that will bamboozle future historians, despite the Chancellor shouting the word ‘GROWTH!’ very loudly every few minutes, there has been little such thing. Just as the ancients appealed to the rain gods in times of drought, so do our inept leaders appeal to the spirits of economic dynamism.
Nevertheless, growth in one area appears all but guaranteed: the number of coffee shops. Even in the most downbeat towns across our nation, a chi-chi outlet selling the most delish flat-white and coconut milk frappé will recently have popped up.
Personally, I am all for this, although it is depressing to realise it is the only area of dynamism left in the economy aside from the proliferation of Turkish barbers.
“But what about Muslims?” I hear you ask.
Oh, you weren’t asking? Apologies, but after recent weeks’ non-stop coverage of Ramadan, Eid, and iftars (the breaking of the fast, natch: we kafir are being forcibly verbally enriched) I assumed that everything had to be seen through the Muslamic prism. Alhamdulillah! Every government outlet and even the supposed Defender of ‘the Faith’ (which, though, Charlie?) has been banging on extra incessantly about our Mohammedan friends in recent weeks, even opening up Windsor for a spot of Islamic ceremony.
The BBC even used the term ‘revert’ in a recent article instead of ‘convert’ - a word suggesting that, becoming a Muslim, people are reverting to their natural state.
“And what about the Muslims who need their caramel soy frappucinio?” I hear you earnestly enquire again. “Surely by the time of iftar their local barista-house will have shut its heathen doors?”
Fear not. I was naively surprised to discover that one of London’s hipper new cafés on the Kings Road ran ‘Ramadan hours’, under which they opened for an extra three hours in the evening, lest any passing Mussulman find themselves in dire need of a post-fast iced matcha latte.
With much of West London now resembling downtown Riyadh this makes rational business sense, no doubt, but it seems unlikely that cafés in the United Kingdom operated ‘Ramadan hours’ a few years ago. It is a supply and demand issue and another sign of the rapidity of change which you are required not to notice nor to pass comment on, lest you commit a thoughtcrime.
In stark contrast to the supposed heightened demand for all things Moslem – the various powers that be are trying to ready us wretched natives for our Islamic future – the demand for Christianity has waned like demand for a pre-Iftar flat white.
Ostensibly, there are just shy of 700,000 people working in the City of London. One might expect there to be a Christian or two among them. Yet, at lunchtime services held in the City’s various smaller churches, to get more than five people in attendance would be considered a major success. For churches which have been sites of Christian worship for approaching 1,000 years, this must represent an all-time low.
In a City where hyper-rational economic reality dominates, one wonders how long these empty edifices of Christianity can remain. There is no innate right for Christianity to exist in such places, and there are swathes of territory across the world were Christians have been displaced, absorbed or forced to live under the dictates of foreign beliefs. After all, much of Asia Minor and other territories now considered firmly Arab would once have been Christian. It was only Tours and Vienna that stopped the spread even further.
Publicly permissible Christianity is now limited to the occasions you can buy cards for: Christmas and Easter, although these are increasingly subject to euphemism (‘Happy Holidays!’) or simply ignored. Lent and Easter received scanty attention on the social media of many key British institutions, all of whom, however, were keen as mustard to wish you “Eid Mubarak”.
In fact, the only occurrence I have witnessed in recent months that stinks of religiosity among my fellow kafirs is one of transubstantiation. Not from wine and bread into blood and body, but, instead, from man to woman.
An acquaintance recently announced that ‘he’ is now a ‘she’ and uses a different name. On a shared group chat, we were encouraged to ‘greet’ this new person as if for the first time.
“Welcome!” people started replying, as if we hadn’t known him years. It is odd to witness acts of performative modern piety: this is nobody new, it is just that Tom decided he is now Rachel. No surgery required, a bit of nail varnish is enough.
Speaking out against such usurpations of sense and reality is a ticket to land you in social hot water, to put it mildly. Having interests other than being an online right-wing headbanger, I said nothing. I joined the conspiracy of silence – at least publicly.
I find it absurd and insulting to my perception of reality to pretend he is a woman or to feign meeting him anew. He is the same confused person he always was, just now with a forcefield of social awkwardness surrounding him, lest one deadname him.
At least yesterday’s High Court ruling means that he can not legally be considered a woman. Some sense has prevailed somewhere, at last.
I don’t dislike him, but I object to the born-again progressivism that enables such unrestrained unreality to flourish. It is the same with immigration and our Muslim friends. On an individual basis I bare no grudge. However, I strongly object to their collective influence upon our way of life and ongoing demands that we kowtow and conform to their customs. The slow creep of blasphemy laws and the acquiescing to Muslim mores – how much halal food must I eat? – are just further indications of Islam’s inexorable rise in our country.
As Hitchens put it, somewhere along the line we chose the wrong future. Within the space of a century we have gone from pre-eminent world power to allowing a medieval religion to be imported wholesale, succour provided by our almost uniformly idiotic elites.
Decades ago people might have imagined in 2025 we’d have flying cars, jet packs and robot maids. They’d have been quite shocked to learn we’d opted to embrace a 7th century Arabian religion as our blueprint for the future instead and that our religious urge would be redirected into wishfully thinking that a man can magically transform into a woman.
Frederick Edward