Shall I tell you when I first became aware that the New World Order had singled out the British as a target for annihilation? When I first noticed that our culture and way of life were being undermined and our brains got at? No? Well I’m going to tell you anyway. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, smelly bum.
It first began in 1963 with a fizzy drink called Tizer. Without warning, they withdrew Tizer from sale because it contained traces of cocaine … or so they claimed! It returned to the shelves several years later, minus the cocaine, but laden with artificial colours and sweeteners. Now, I grew up drinking Tizer, by the time I was eight going through a large bottle a day and back then I was always full of energy and enthusiasm. Now, a year away from being sixty, no matter how much Tizer I drink, I have no energy or enthusiasm at all and I don’t think that’s any coincidence. Do you?
The next target for their unholy plan was chocolate coated peanuts. Yes, you heard me right, peanuts in chocolate. For many years this particular confection came in a brown wrapper that reminded you of chocolate and indeed, you were not disappointed, each individual peanut being covered in chocolate and coated in a chocolate-coloured candy shell. For all those years they were called Peanut Treats. A treat – something you got for behaving right, or for doing well at something. A reward, if not for being the best, but for doing your best. A treat, a small encouragement to strive and attain and a reward for having striven and attained, traits that have always made the British top of the leader board for always being the best at everything.
Then suddenly, they were no longer treats, but M&Ms. Now, you may work hard to gain a treat for being the best (or British), but who’s going to bother their arse for an M&M? What does M&M stand for anyway? Manipulation and mind control, that’s what. Once uniformly chocolate brown, they became an array of eye-twisting colours, bright blues, yellows, reds and greens, leading to feelings of confusion. Pop something into your mouth that’s electric blue, but get hit with the taste of chocolate and that can’t be right. One doesn’t marry up with the other and this disorientation is only exacerbated by all the chemical dyes and E-numbers you have ingested.
They then moved on to Opal Fruits, an image that conjures up purity and freshness. Indeed, fruits as pure as opal. Starburst, that’s what they changed them too and what does a Starburst do? That’s right, both blinds you to danger and irradiates you, further lowering your resistance to their evil blandishments. How can you keep being British and the best at everything at the forefront of your mind under such a constant radiation bombardment?
What came next should have been totally obvious, as they rubbed our noses in their manipulations, but while many were annoyed by the change, most failed to see the true significance of it. Marathon, a chocolate bar – coincidentally also heavily laden with peanuts – became Snickers. Snickers is something associated with horses (note: horses are beasts of burden) and can also be used as a synonym for sniggers. Yes, they were blatantly telling us that they consider us to be no more than beasts of burden at whom they are sniggering.
A marathon, on the other hand, is a gruelling challenge that takes perseverance, strength, courage and heaps of determination to see through to the end. A task so daunting that, once completed, you would previously have been given a Treat for doing so. Now all you get is a daft Jim’ll Fix It style medal, a bag of M&Ms and a bar of chocolate that, far from being a reward for doing well, is actually laughing at your endeavours. Snickers/sniggers at you, in fact.
I know they eventually caved in to pressure and returned the name Snickers to Marathon, but they’d already had their laughs by then and likely thought it would be no bad thing to throw us all off the scent, anyway. Make no mistake, however, every time you go into the local newsagent and buy a marathon, or train for months on end (picking up various unnecessary joint injuries along the way) and then run a marathon, they will still be snickering at you.
But, you say, all these are nothing more than childish sweeties and you would be right. However, have you never heard the phrases “get them early” and “ show me the boy of seven and I’ll show you the man”? A lot of us olden’s were already too steeped in Britishness and being the best at everything for their mind games and subtle poisons to take full effect and that’s why they first aimed their assault at the children.
If you don’t believe me, take a look around. Children are now taking part in non-competitive sport where everyone is a winner no matter how useless they are. Got two left feet and can’t kick a football to save your life? Never mind, here’s a winners’ medal anyway for the taking part, part. Can’t jump over that bar? Not to worry, here’s your trophy for giving it a very poor try. Oh, that plaque on my wall? I won that for coming last in the 100metres sprint. And does anyone really think the English cricket team have any clue as to what it means to be British and the best at everything? Come on now, don’t kid a kidder.
Of course, they have done similar things with more adult foods and beverages. Take Mackeson stout. Once you were told it looks good, tastes good and by golly it does you good. Two world wars were fought and won on Mackeson, the greatest empire the world has ever seen was fuelled by Mackeson, so it clearly wasn’t doing a lot of harm. But, oh no, all of a sudden they weren’t allowed to tell you that Mackeson did you good anymore and where is it now? Gone, defunct, consigned to the dustbin of history – just as they want the British to be.
Fish and chips, good solid British fare. Food to fill and nourish giving you the strength to maintain the aforementioned empire, but disappearing fast; a metaphor for what is happening to our people and our culture. What is fish and chips being replaced by? Chinese food, full of monosodium glutamate and other scientifically produced crap, which leaves you hungry an hour after eating it. Indian food, also laced with chemicals, that gives you flatulence and a sore arse. Have you ever tried riding a horse into battle with flatulence and a sore arse? No, of course you haven’t. The British didn’t become the best at everything by farting the national anthem and rubbing Vaseline onto their burning bum rings. No sir.
I can see you all nodding your heads as the penny finally drops and you realise just how nefarious these people really are. And can the British be saved? Possibly not, but we can make a start by putting our own cocaine back in the Tizer; by giving ourselves and our kids a Treat for a job well done, while telling them to shove their M&Ms up their own brown packets; by leaving the Starbursts to irradiate the sweet shop shelves; by wrapping up our fish and chips in week-old newspaper once again (whether the health Nazis fucking like it or not) and by drinking copious amounts of Guinness and pretending it’s Mackeson.
Come on people! Take back your Britishness and be proud. Be the best once again, as we always were and should be again!
And God save Elizabeth Sachsen-Coburg Und Gotha (their name until 1917 when they changed it to Windsor to keep us subjects sweet), our beloved German Queen!