We want are cuntry back
I’m Terry and I want ma cuntry back. I’m not raysis, I woz sayin to Hassan at the kabab shop lass nite “Haz, ur alrite, but it’s all dem other lot comin’ ere that take benefiz that riles me up.” And Has didn’t say nuffink but that’s only coz he new I woz rite. He usually gives me xtra free chips wiv my weekly orda but that nite he didn’t. Guess he forgot to. Next time I go in I’ll remin him that he owes me dose chips coz he usually gimmes it and I’m sure he’ll gimme what I’m owed and wot I dezerv. He’s lucky me and da boiz didn’t smash his windoze this week when we woz all out protectin are land. Fuckin police woz all der, stikkin up for all da scummy assilam seekaz. Fuckin police arrested sum of us lot. If ma grandad, who fort in the wor, saw wot happend he’d ov turnt ova in his grave. Police arrestin innocen BRITESH people who are tryin to do the polices job protectin the streets from all the forren rapiss and feeves and rapiss.
Anyway, I’m Terry and I’m angry. I tol my wife, well, ex-wife Sharon, dat it’s bad enuff the kids don wanna speak to me no more but tell dem ther dad is out there doin his part to mayk dis cuntry betta and get it back to wot it woz befor all da bordaz opend up and we lost wot dis cuntry woz all about. We woz an EMPIA, we ruled the world. We went to Afrika and Indya and Jamayka and Afrika and we went ther and we gave all dem lot a propa structa, we bult roads and mayd skools for dem and showd em how to live propa, and yeah, maybe we took sumfinks bak with us like tea and gold, but dats a small pryce to pay for wot we gave dem. And how do dey repay us? Dey all come ere and took all our housin and sure summof dem are alrite and dey worked for the NHS and they managd to fit in but all dem other ones can go do one. We’re full up, and every day mor and mor of dem try and get ere by boats tryna steal are jobs. Anyway, I woz sayin to Sharon “imagin if dem lot didn’t mayk it hard for me to get a propa job fings cud have gon differnt for all of us”. Sharon wozn’t gettin it tho, she sez “Terry, you literally were the worst husband imaginable. And a horrible father. You never tried to hold down a single job despite many chances. And whenever you had one, you spent all the money at the bookies and at the pub. I hate you. Please don’t make me call the police, you know you’re not allowed to contact any of us”. Sharon, always woz a sour puss. Never had a sens of humah. It’s alwayz “Police” this and “Restraining Order” that and “I’m counting to ten”. Silly Sharon, just doesn geddit.
Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, sorry, I meant “Tommy Robinson”, he getsit. He sez wot all dem lot in the housiz of parlamen don’t say. I woz tellin my GP, Dr Singh, dat he’s lucky he’s gotta job ere treatin sik people coz if I had my way we’d have only Britesh doctors and Britesh payshunts. I woz tellin him how Tommy woz rite about are cuntry and how hard it is to get an appointman, and how dis cuntry is brokken. Dr Singh started bleedin off about how “years of austerity, coupled with gross negligence by the Tories, and a toxic media landscape, has perpetuated this divide in society and growing tensions between the working classes and the elite”. Honessly I couldn mayk out half the wordz he woz sayin. Maybe it’s his akkscent, I jus couldn understan coz of dat huge turban he woz wearin. By the end he stoppd talkin rubbish and gave me my rezults and tol me to cut back on the fry ups and cokayne and the fosterz. I woz fuckin livid, I woz gonna swing for him ther and den! Comin here and tellin me wot I can and cannut eat and wot I can and cannut stik up ma noze! I sez to him “Tommy Robinson doez cokayne all da tym and he's doin alrite, wot u gotta say about dat?! EH?!” And he goez “Tommy Robinson is literally in Cyprus right now, inciting hatred and fuelling a far-right civil war. Is this the man you look up to?” And I sez “FUCK OFF BACK TO UR CUNTRY U FUCKIN MUG!”
I left der pretty upset dat I’d been verbaly attaked by a dockta dats suppos to mayk people feel bettah. I needed to let off a bit of steam so I chekd my fone coz dat often helps distrakt me from all the fayk shit people sey nowadays. I log on to ma facebook to see wots actualluy goin on in the world, and I come akross dis t-shirt:
“Love: Kebabs
Hate: Racism”
I fort to maself “WOT???? Wots kababs got to do wiv anyfink?!” I love kababs, but I’m no raysis, I just like wot I like and I like Britten how it woz before. Den I got finkin “Kebabs… they’re mayd by Turks and they’re not whyte and dey got ere and took jobs and now dey feed us” and it got me reelly angry again. I wantd to tear oppen my stomak and pull out all da kababs I had yesstaday. I felt sik. I been eatin kababs all ma life and didn’t fink how forren it woz until I saw dat t-shirt on facebook. Den I lookd around my flat, and notissd more forren fings. I saw my frigg magnet from my trip to Benidorm. My bedsheits were from Ikea, which is from Belggim I fink. Good fink I never woshed it once coz it don’t deserve are clean water. My shoes had “Made In Cambodia” printtid in dem. My tv, where GB News woz playin, I realleyez woz mayd in Japan. My head woz spinnin. Evryfink woz forrren. I needed to get ma head klear. One bump of cokayn chilld me out a little. But I culdn’t believ wot I woz seein and realiyzin. I felt ma chess tytten and struggld to breev. I cud smell toast, like smoke all arroun me. Woz I dyin? I still had so much I wontd to acheev, like punchin a small brown elderly lady and torchin a mosk. My life couldn’t end now, could it? I fell, and bangd my head on the floor.
Well, I muss have a massiv head coz my neybah downsterz herd me fallin. Paulina, my neybah, she’s from Poland I fink. She ran upsters and nokked on my door but obviassly I woz unkonsush so I cuddnt respond. She musta nokked like 30 times and got no ansa. So she calld 999 and next fink I no I’m in an ambulans. The paramediks, I dunno if they woz Afrikan or Jamaykan or wot, but they woz definitly black. I woz scared dey woz gonna stab me but they took me to A & E and from der on the rest is a blur.
Been here 4 dayz now. There’s a Chineez fella across me, he’s old, doesn’t say a word to me. SO FUCKIN RUDE! One of da nurses told me he can’t speak since his stroke but I reckon that’s just an excuse. And people call me raysis! Unbeleevable.
I’m sad I can’t go on any of the peesfull protess. I’m stuk ere for a while whilst I get round da clok care by a bunch of forreners workin at the hospittal. But just you lot wait when I get out, I’m comin for ur town centre. I’ll smash evry brik if dats wot it takes to get this cuntry back up again to wher it belongs. I’ll burn evry library. I’ll punch any teacha dat stands in my way. I’ll do anyfink to protect are kids, are whyte kids. Am I a hero? Not for me to sey. I’m just Terry and I’m proud to be Britesh.