Immigration is out of control and a real threat to our way of life – here’s my solution
DO any of you remember that old sci-fi Soylent Green?
Set in a horrible future where everybody had about one foot of space to move about in.
No countryside, no breathing space. Just a mass of impoverished people crammed together. A bit like London today. They ended up eating each other in the film.
I was reminded of it when the Office for National Statistics released its latest population figures for the UK.
You will be proud to learn that there are now 68.3million people living here. Or, at least, there were in the middle of last year, the latest date for which official figures are available.
You can bet it’s gone up a fair bit since then, too.
That 68.3million showed a one per cent rise on the previous year.
That is the biggest annual rise in our population for more than 50 years.
To put those figures into some sort of context, our population was just over 55million in 1970 — and we all thought we were a crowded island then.
Our population has increased by about eight million in 18 years.
And the remarkable thing is, nobody is making the slightest fuss about it. As if it’s something we can’t do anything about and it doesn’t really matter.
But it DOES matter. As I say, in the past we felt as if we were living in a very crowded country. But now it has become a real threat. A threat to our way of life.
A threat to our beautiful countryside. A threat to the infrastructure of the country — our jammed roads, creaking and expensive train services, packed schools, and overflowing prisons.
And, of course, there’s the housing crisis.
The Labour Government has its mind set to build a million and a half more homes, probably somewhere near you. Paving over more and more of our countryside. Increasing the risk of flooding because just about everywhere safe from flooding has already been built on.
And with those new homes will have to come new schools, hospitals, prisons, shops — all the stuff needed by new communities.
The reason why nobody is making much of a fuss is that the increase in our population is entirely the consequence of inward migration.
The ONS made this perfectly clear in its report. But you will get howled down if you suggest that there is a link between immigration and the shocking state of our schools and hospitals and the housing crisis.
So let’s be very, very clear about this. Our current housing crisis is almost entirely the consequence of immigration. So are our packed schools and overcrowded prisons.
Without that massive inward immigration over the last ten years we would be in a much healthier state.
There is only so much that our country can take. And right now we are full to the brim — and likely to get fuller.
That will lead to more and more strife. Those riots we saw in the early summer might give you an indication of what is to come.
We need to be firm about this. For the good of our country. And for the good of those people who have come here in the last ten years, thinking, perhaps, that the UK might be a canny place to live in. Well, it was, once.
So here’s a solution. An immediate moratorium on immigration. No net inward migration for ten years, minimum. Until we have had the time to create the infrastructure to handle the number of people we have already.
This is not racist, or xenophobic. It is a common-sense reaction to an emergency. Because this is a dire emergency.
POOR PATROL
SO, the Met Police weren’t going to bother providing much of an escort to Taylor Swift when she played here.
I don’t know who the caterwauling moppet thinks she is.
But anyway, Starmageddon and co intervened and suddenly Swift was given the kind of police security detail you might imagine would be suitable for Cyclops Kharg, President of the Inter Galactic Federation.
And what does Labour get? Loads of free Taylor Swift tickets.
There’s nowt worse than a Labour government on the make.
DUPED BY KEIR AND CO
UNTIL now, the worst case of buyer’s remorse I have ever seen was my mum and dad.
Not when they had me. But when they saved up hundreds of pages of Green Shield stamps. And took them to the Green Shield stamps shop 70 miles south in Leeds. And chose a silver-plated After Eight mints dispensing device.
You put the chocolates in the thing and it kind of flipped them forward when you took one.
They realised very quickly that it was an atrocious waste of money. It didn’t even flip the chocolates properly. And nobody wanted them flipped, anyhow.
That was 50 years ago. And their buyer’s remorse has at last been equalled by, um, the entire country.
I have never known a population become so disillusioned with a new government in my lifetime – and maybe before. So staggeringly useless are this lot that Labour’s lead over the non-existent Tories is down to ONE POINT.
Three months in office – they should be 30 points ahead in the polls.
Sir Keir has revealed himself to be a grasping, brittle, little man, devoid of humour and humility.
His administration is in chaos. He’s been forced to ditch the awful Sue Gray as his Chief of Staff because everybody else hates her.
He and half the Cabinet have been appointing cronies and trousering donations – far worse than the Tories did.
The Cabinet is revealed to be a convocation of the truly talentless.
We have an ignoramus as Foreign Secretary. A mathematically challenged Chancellor. A wholly useless Home Secretary. And, in Ed Milipede, a madman determined to ruin us all.
The question is this: Why didn’t we have an inkling of this on July 4?
BEST OF BAD BUNCH
SADLY, Tom Tugendhat is out of the race for Tory leader. Ah well.
And James Cleverly was knocked out yesterday. If he’d won, you would have seen just how Nigel Farage’s Reform party started to grow.
It is now the job of the Tories to make sure Kemi Badenoch gets the job.
She can be a prickly, for sure. But perhaps that’s what we need in opposition now.
And she will make mincemeat of Starmer in Parliament.
Kink gives a whole new meaning to mummy’s boy
JUST been reading yesterday’s Dear Deidre.
Yikes. Some girl was complaining about her boyfriend’s sex fetish.
He wants to MUMMIFY her! Wrap her from head to toe in bandages. I’m like wtf?
Get the hell out right now, love, before you find yourself entombed inside a pyramid with only a scarab beetle for company.
If he tries it again, just say: “Nah, weirdo. Two sticking plasters is as far as I go. You want more, head to A&E and fill your boots.”