Recently I had been looking over English history, and it’s important to note that the invasion of the Normans in the 11th century took place within a very short period of time, and helped to radically change the face of Anglo-Saxon society that developed there over 600 years. The period of Anglo-Saxon rule and development made the British Isles the envy of Europe, for its wealth and stability.
NOTE: After Norman rule and culture was introduced, it radically changed social-political life forever, not to mention the dotting of the landscape with hundreds of castles.
The only threat might have come from the aggrieved British people, but we could always stifle their protests by suggesting that they were modern-day fascists.
How the invasion of immigrants into every corner of England has made a mockery of PM’s promise to close the door
- The greatest mass migration in our history has taken place
- Revolutionaries of the Sixties to blame for seeing immigrants as allies
- Rather than them adapting to their lifestyle, we are adapting to theirs
By PETER HITCHENS
PUBLISHED: 00:17 GMT, 31 March 2013 | UPDATED: 00:17 GMT, 31 March 2013
Was this Britain? Every group of people I passed was speaking Russian. The shops were full of black bread, pickled cucumbers and vodka, the faces were Slavic. The advertisements in the windows were in the Cyrillic script I had come to know so well when I lived, many years before, in Moscow.
Yet here I was in the shadow of a lovely English Gothic church tower, half-way to dear old Skegness, surrounded by fields of English turnips, leeks and sugar beet, under an English heaven.
This was Boston, Lincolnshire, which I had first seen three decades ago as a somnolent, slightly shabby market town where a kindly traffic warden had found me a parking space, saying: ‘We can always find room for a foreigner.’
But we did so as irresponsible, childless transients – not as homeowners, or as parents of school-age children, or as old people hoping for a bit of serenity at the ends of their lives. When we graduated and began to earn serious money, we generally headed for expensive London enclaves and became extremely choosy about where our children went to school, a choice we happily denied the urban poor, the ones we sneered at as ‘racists’.
What did we know, or care, of the great silent revolution which even then was beginning to transform the lives of the British poor? To us, it meant patriotism and tradition could always be derided as ‘racist’. And it also meant cheap servants for the rich new middle-class, for the first time since 1939, as well as cheap restaurants and – later on – cheap builders and plumbers working off the books.
It wasn’t our wages that were depressed, or our work that was priced out of the market. Immigrants didn’t do the sort of jobs we did. They were no threat to us. The only threat might have come from the aggrieved British people, but we could always stifle their protests by suggesting that they were modern-day fascists.
I have learned since what a spiteful, self-righteous, snobbish and arrogant person I was (and most of my revolutionary comrades were, too).