Documents on the
International Campaign for Real History
First
posted Saturday, July 28, 2012
IN
her sixty years' rule she has seen the
feckless politicians turn her kingdom
from a mono-ethnic wellspring of world
civilisation into a drug-crazed,
gun-toting, knife-wielding
'multi-cultural'
cesspit.
A
full Radical's Diary will be posted this
weekend:
Friday,
July 27, 2012 London,
England
FROM NINE pm I watch with
Hugo the Olympics opening ceremony, devised by
Danny Boyle, who is said to be a leftwing
film director. Most of the tumbling turmoil that
follows goes right over our heads, and no doubt
over the heads of the five billion viewers
around the world too. The media fare better,
having been provided with a handout which tells
them what is happening, and who is
who.
It is very chaotic and spectacular, even
inspired in parts, but it fails to chill me
except for a few touches reminiscent of
Richard Wagner (or even Albert Speer
and Benno von Arent) -- the
steelworkers forging a fifth Olympic ring of
Golden fire to complete the other four, the
searchlights over the stadium, the torchlight
parade, the blonde maidens carrying the copper
torches and the country-names.
There
is a less inspired skit involving HM The Queen
and the film actor who plays James Bond, with
Her Majesty parachuting into the stadium from a
helicopter -- but it seems to have gone wrong.
While we see the dummy Queen plummeting out of
the helicopter above the stadium, she does not
float down into the actual arena.
Nobody comments on this; none of the first
editions of tomorrow's newspapers mentions it --
perhaps, like the unfortunate Crawfie incident
in the 1960s, they have based their descriptions
of the ceremony entirely on the press handout.
The journaille, they never change.
Anyway, the monarch herself duly enters the
Royal box, and sits looking visibly po-faced
throughout the ceremony, while her consort
appears to doze at her side. I think she must
privately view this demeaning skit as the lowest
point of her reign, coming so soon after the
Jubilee celebrations.
Quick
navigation
IN her sixty years' rule she has seen the
feckless politicians turn her kingdom from a
mono-ethnic wellspring of world civilisation
into a drug-crazed, gun-toting, knife-wielding
"multi-cultural" cesspit. The British Empire
imploded. The BBC television cameras hover
lovingly on every Black immigrant face that has
been shoe-horned, heedless of chronology, into
the scenes that Boyle has devised -- including
the top-hatted 19th Century capitalist
factory-owners, and even the Suffragettes. Black
children dance around 19th century English
Maypoles. Boxer, George Orwell's heroic
carthorse in Animal Farm, would be
scratching his forelock: didn't remember them,
somehow. On the far side of the arena, the
Empire Windrush berths to orchestrated
cheers, bringing its first toxic cargo of
Caribbean doom.
After the first hour, the constant and
inappropriate interpolation of Black faces
becomes offensive, and probably as much so to
them as to us, the Whites. There is brief relief
when the outside-broadcast cameras go on to
other celebrations in Northern Ireland, Wales,
and Scotland, where there is not a single Black
face for the BBC cameras to linger joyously
upon. No doubt they will be digitally inserted
later, just as Black faces, looking remarkably
like Robertson's marmelade golliwogs, were
digitally superimposed on some of Harry Potter's
cheering fellow-pupils in the final scene of the
first Potter movie.
David IrvingIN her sixty years' rule she has seen the feckless politicians turn her kingdom from a mono-ethnic wellspring of world civilisation into a drug-crazed, gun-toting, knife-wielding 'multi-cultural' cesspit.
There is a less inspired skit involving HM The Queen and the film actor who plays James Bond, with Her Majesty parachuting into the stadium from a helicopter -- but it seems to have gone wrong. While we see the dummy Queen plummeting out of the helicopter above the stadium, she does not float down into the actual arena.
IN her sixty years' rule she has seen the feckless politicians turn her kingdom from a mono-ethnic wellspring of world civilisation into a drug-crazed, gun-toting, knife-wielding "multi-cultural" cesspit. The British Empire imploded. The BBC television cameras hover lovingly on every Black immigrant face that has been shoe-horned, heedless of chronology, into the scenes that Boyle has devised -- including the top-hatted 19th Century capitalist factory-owners, and even the Suffragettes. Black children dance around 19th century English Maypoles. Boxer, George Orwell's heroic carthorse in Animal Farm, would be scratching his forelock: didn't remember them, somehow. On the far side of the arena, the Empire Windrush berths to orchestrated cheers, bringing its first toxic cargo of Caribbean doom.
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