By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist slightly to the right of Hitler
AN English beach, the surf crimson. RAF gunships sinking distant boats. A one-way plane to Rwanda awaiting any survivors. Doesn’t it gladden the heart?
This is Suella Braverman’s vision. Fortress Britain. Invaders repelled by any means necessary. Machine-gun nests on Southend Pier. Low-level bombing runs on French beaches.
And yet for this, absurdly, she is pilloried by the left-wing elistist Islington media establishment despite having views shared by 99 per cent of British patriots.
When she said, in the Commons, ‘Britain is being invaded. Every man on every boat is a 15-stone Abanian mafioso who intends to turn Sussex into a brothel casino with free PCP for kids,’ I cheered.
Finally common sense. Finally a home secretary, unlike bleeding heart liberal Priti Patel, who understands the scale of the problem.
I looked forward to our next move. Mining the Channel? Sending the Prince of Wales up in an Apache attack helicopter to machine-gun boats until there’s nothing but fragments of plastic and chum for the sharks?
Empower vigilante squads of true-blue voters to summarily execute anyone sighted near their coastline, with full amnesty for any mistakes? Declare the RNLI illegal? Nuke Tirana?
But instead, what happens? Liberal death squads led by Robert Peston and Beth Rigby, jacked up on cocaine and Twitter, empty their metaphorical AK-47s into Braverman. That’s no exaggeration. They already have the severed heads of Boris and Liz on poles.
They accuse her of being racist, when one look at her proves she can’t be. They accuse her of using the wrong words, like that matters when a former Communist pimp has a knife to your throat and is forcing you to perform in his bestial peep-show.
Britain wants these people dead. If that means ending of movement of people or goods to the continent permanently to surround us with a 100ft laser-screen of death, Braverman will do it. That’s what they’re so afraid of.
So ignore the liberal chatter. The Channel will soon, as in Suella’s dreams, be foaming with blood. And we – the sensible, silent, ignored majority – will be the ones spilling it.