Chapter 12 in the serialisation of the book 'Insurrection' 4th book in the 'Corpalism' series

12

Don't find fault, find a remedy.
Henry Ford

"Look at this," Gerry's face was flushed, the newspaper he was flourishing obviously the cause of his outrage, "look at this, bloody vandalism and graffiti."

He'd come outside looking for Alb, breakfast forgotten, finding him where he'd thought he'd be, wandering in the rose garden, thinking. For some reason Ken was there too, following on Alb's heels; the picture jogged Gerry's memory, recalling when they were kids.

"I saw it," said Alb, pacifically, head down, hands in pockets, in mooching mode, unflappable.

“Someone wants shooting,” Gerry was incensed, “that park's only been open a few months."

"I went there the other week," said Ken, sidling up alongside, his jacket catching on a rose thorn as he did so, wanting to be in the conversation but careful to omit mention of who he had been with at the time, "it was really peaceful, a nice place for people to sit and think."

"Yeah, well, it's not now," said Gerry, "it's a drugs den, a meet for local yobs and scumbags."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," said Alb, his head coming up, a spark lighting his eyes, "England never used to be like this, we always knew how to look after her, so what happened?"

"It's like you said, Albie, old mate," said Gerry, "all these bloody foreigners coming in."

"It's not just them," said Ken, falling back a few steps behind as Gerry took his place alongside Alb, "We've had vandalism for years, what with punks and the skin heads and what not."

"Point taken," said Gerry, grudgingly, "and of course, Mods and Rockers weren't foreigners."

"To be fair, Albie," said Ken, bolstered by Gerry's acquiescence, "we've always had bad ‘uns, haven't we… in our day we was Teddy Boys..." His tone was wistful, nostalgic for the crepe soles, the thin drainpipes and his favourite jacket, deep purple with a velvet collar.

"Well yes, some of us were," said Alb, those of us who didn't go in the Army he might've said but didn't, contenting himself with, "we're not saying we've not had our own scum bags, are we, Gerry?"
Gerry nodded his agreement. "We're just saying that things have got a lot worse in the last few years, and someone has to do something about it."

"But surely," protested Ken, "that's for the police to sort out, isn't it?"

"If the police could, don't you think they would've done something by now?" said Gerry.

"This has got to be independent of the police, this has got to come from the streets," said Alb.

"From the streets? What, riots?" said Ken in despair.

"We need to raise a resistance," said Alb.
Val arrived, holding in front of her a small tray with a single cup of tea perched on it. She lowered herself onto the nearest bench, carefully arranging her skirt so as not to crease it and then daintily crossing her feet at the ankles. She took a small sip of tea then said, "You're not still going on about this, are you?"
"Course we are," said Gerry, irritated simply by her presence, "it's important."

"I can't seem to get you to understand," said Alb, walking over to stand in front of her, looking down, hands stuck into his trouser pockets, feet angled so his weight rested on the outside of his shoes, shoulders hunched in a despairing pose, "it's just that I feel ...well, I've done everything I can to live properly but I'll be leaving the world a worse place than the one my parents left me."

"It's not your fault, Albie," said Val, leaning forward, longing to pat his hand, "you're just one person."

"One person can make a difference," said Gerry energetically, "if they try hard enough."

Alb flashed him a quick smile, then looked back down at Val, "I can't help feeling bad about it. We had the benefit of a good education, free health care, good jobs, affordable homes and the freedom to bring kids up decent." She nodded, although she'd neither had nor wanted children she felt obliged to concede the point, "But the world these kids are growing up in... what will it be like in 10 or 20 years’ time? ....if someone doesn't do something to stop the rot?"

"It certainly won't be the England we know and love," said Gerry, "in fact, they might call it something else, give it some Sharia name or maybe call it Poland the second."

"Better bloody not," hissed Ken, surprising himself.

"We fought the Nazis for a free country, a place where people would be proud to live," Alb said, tears welling in his eyes as he spoke, "but look what it's become, look what's happened to our country."

"We didn't fight the Germans," said Ken, "that was our pare...."

"You know what I mean, don't split hairs," said Alb, irritably, "we inherited a great country, on the world stage, but what are we passing on?" Ken recoiled, as always Alb's passion frightened him. "This is our country, and we should do something to keep it England."

"But what can we do, Alb?" pressed Val, "What can we achieve, realistically? A few old people in a retirement village, it's a crazy notion."

"You know I'm with you, Alb," said Gerry, "and I think we should fight."

"Even if we should do something," said Val, "you must admit it'd be hard to know where to start."

"Start with the yobs and the bloody vandals." Gerry raised the newspaper again.

"The foreigners," said Alb, "specifically the bloody Muslims, they keep blowing us up, murdering us on our streets and it's unacceptable."

Mags came out of the French doors, waving when she saw them and made her way over to sit down next to Val, "What's unacceptable?" she asked.

Gerry noticed with approval that Mags had sat down without all the fussy stuff that Val employed; no endless skirt smoothing and prissy ankles.

"The Muslims," stated Alb, "there're too many of them over here, this is our country and they should go home. Sometimes when you walk down the road it's like you're in a foreign country."

"Actually it's all the East Europeans that bother me," muttered Ken.

"This is our country," Alb insisted, "the green fields of England belong to us and our children, not to a bunch of Johnny-come-lately MPs of foreign extraction who go around saying that England is multi-cultural, what right have they to say that? What right?"

"Why is it that they always get on TV as well?" demanded Gerry, "and why is it, whenever anyone stands up and says that they don't want so many foreigners in the country or they don't want to live in this so called 'multi-cultural' society they're accused of being racist?"

"It's not racist to stand up and defend your country against foreign invasion," said Alb, "whether by military means or by immigration." This last was added with a wink at Gerry.

"It's patriotic to defend your country," said Gerry firmly, "that's always been the case."

"In fact, all those who want to make us multi-cultural are traitors, that's what they are, traitors."

"Well that’s as maybe, Alb," said Val, a little tartly, "but isn't it rather too late?"

"Too late to do anything really," agreed Ken.

"Too late?" said Alb and Gerry in unison, and Alb added, "It's never too late to come to the defence of the realm."

"Oh, that's a bit melodramatic, Albert," said Val, "besides which, what can we possibly do that will make the slightest bit of difference?"

"We can fight back," said Gerry, "…make it impossible for them to stay here."

"How?" asked Ken, "there are millions of them and we're just a few old people. I still don't see what we can do other than get into a lot of trouble for saying racist things."

"It's not racist," snapped Alb, "we're defending our country."

"It is really," said Val, "we're specifically accusing foreigners, so it must be racist."

"We had this out yesterday, Val, remember, the Ku Klux Klan?" Gerry reminded her dryly.

"Klu Klux, Gerry," she corrected. Gerry's eyes bulged ominously and a retort was forming.

"Well, it does come across a bit BNP," said Mags, intervening quickly, "and they're fascists."

"It's not racist and it's not fascist," said Alb, "because we're not attacking them racially, we're simply saying there are too many of them here in our country. Besides Muslims aren't a race, they're a religion."

"But isn't that just nit-picking?" asked Ken.

"No, it's not," said Gerry, "we're saying that the country is being changed and we want it to stop. It's a fact ...when too many foreigners arrive the nature of the country gets changed, the culture changes..."

"... that's what's happening to us and someone has to stop it," Alb said, finishing Gerry's sentence.

"And the first thing to do is send them home." Gerry had the last word, with an emphatic nod.

Cheers

Arun







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