Olympia

While awaiting a personal response from England’s new prime minister to my offer *to be her Minister of Defence* – in the service of enabling England to return to being the Great Power she used to be – I’ve continued to follow world affairs closely, including the recent Olympic Games.

Were I not desirous of becoming Minister of Defence I wouldn’t have bothered following the Olympic Games, for they are not really “games” or “sport”, in the way an Englishman understands it. Rather, the Olympic Games are a world war by other means which the world’s nations fight every four years. What with the huge involvement and funding by national governments, flag-waving, national anthems, and all of that, the Olympic games are, you might say, a giant proxy-war. To win in your particular sport, you therefore use any means necessary, whether illegal or immoral.

Despite this, the athletes do appear to try to behave properly to their opponents at the end of a contest or event. This, however, is just Public Relations – something lost on the unlettered masses who follow the Olympic Games. So, should an athlete – as did happen in one instance during the just-finished Games – not shake the hand of his opponent at the finish of a contest between them, he’s excoriated for not acting as a sportsman should, and sent home in disgrace, rather than feted for being true to himself. .

You may have gathered by now how trying it was for me to follow these just-finished Olympic Games. I felt I had to, though, in view of my aspirations to be England’s Minister of Defence. Hence I followed these Games as I might a war. I was, in this connection, happy to see that in terms of medals won, England was among the very top nations. I have every hope that, once England becomes again a Great Power – through the means I laid out in my letter to the new Prime Minister – England will also be the top medal-winner at future Olympic Games.

And not just future Olympic Games, but future Football World Cups, and future Rugby World Cups too. Given that international sport is now war by other means, it will more or less be necessary that England as the world’s leading Great Power, should permanently be champion of the world in football and rugby. And not to speak of permanently depriving Australia of the Ashes.

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In the matter of cricket, I’ve been disturbed to learn that Englishmen playing weekend amateur cricket today, routinely engage in *verbal and physical violence*. It’s getting so bad, fighting is causing matches to be abandoned. I had thought only Americans behave like this.  But Englishmen? Fighting on the cricket field is like spitting in church. It bespeaks a hole – a gaping hole – in the core of today’s Englishman. Is it therefore any wonder why he voted the way he did in the recent referendum?

The despair of today’s Englishman arises from his no longer finding meaning in his life. He tries to compensate by becoming an imitation American. So he chews gum, spews profanities, and fights on the cricket field. But imitating someone never fills the gaping hole in a rotting core. Hence the Englishman is adrift, and England is adrift too – drifting off to become again the inconsequential European off-shore island she was before William the Conqueror.

Happily this can all change. But only if England’s new woman prime minister accepts what I said in my recent letter to her. What I said is eminently………how shall I say………doable? It needs only the resolve that the fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers, and great-great grandfathers of today’s Englishman showed when they sailed off on England’s civilising mission throughout the world.

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I’ll conclude this posting – as I did the previous posting – with music, English music. There’s nothing like  English music – real English music – to begin filling the hole in a rotting English core. What music was more English than the music of Albert Ketelby. Whenever I listen to his “Bells Across the Meadows” I begin weeping, so much does it vibrate with an ineffable Englishness in the deepest layer of my being.

If more of today’s Englishmen would listen to Albert Ketelby’s music, they might, like me, weep. This will only help the Englishman’s ailing soul to begin healing. He’ll spit out his gum, return to speaking proper English, shake the hand of his opponent on the cricket field, and sail off again to show proudly English civilisation to the world………