Dribbling elitist saliva and musk turns to fairydust, or so they’d have you believe. Every failed promise made in Europe since 1973 has in recent weeks been assuredly thrust into your field of vision. Presented as your definitive reality, the most flourishing and sound minded bet you can wager? You may deliver yourself to evil or claim power, live with glory. Make the latter your pledge and claim ‘all’ reward. In your conscience, forever, this one little story.
Whore yourself to the shadows, and the halls, cross our sea. Prostrate yourself and ingest the stereotypical westminsteral odor that converts the once hardy soul by means of its coercive nature. Once accepted, fear doth becometh ones fate, and with great awareness you shalt concede that the unknown elements of each day are the same, whichever path you delighted upon. Sidelined to mercy, self beckoned to oblivion, lost was your right. Sold, your countries might.
Plebeians unite, stand tall, fight! Be everlasting and relentless, ‘gainst all elitist shite! Stand fast, be steady, never falter. The great in you ‘is’ Britain! Ancestral planes filled with majestic magnificence, quietly insinuate all that’s required. This nation that forges paths others jealously aspire to tread. All roads lead us home. The soil beneath doth end, surrounded, we stand alone, as one! Remove all opportunity from those who may wish to trespass against us. For Britain is your kingdom, your power, your glory, for ever and ever!
Respect Existance Or Expect Resistance!
The following two tabs change content below.
The Master Of My Fate, The Captain Of My Soul... Hierophant blog artist and small town northern plebeian caught in a revolving overzealous opinionated bubble. My writing can be harsh but is always to the point and without bullshittery. Provocateur of humorous catalytic moments as warped as a bunch of alcoholics sipping sarsaparilla in a temperance bar mid prohibition.