NATO is a Military Joke and Britain is Just a Launching Pad for US Nukes
Ukraine fiasco reveals the awful truth: Europe sucks
War is hell, but less so when you only fight in other people’s countries. Three years on and a million plus dead later, the myth of Ukraine v Russia stands exposed as the struggle for rare-earth minerals it always was. Trump surrogate JD Vance talks turkey to NATO’s chickenhawks and suddenly everyone notices the American elephant in the room. Rats are scattering from Kiev as the last christians left alive in Reichsfuhrer Zelensky’s rubble heap reflect that god moves in mysterious ways. With a single speech America’s VP has rolled out a new european order and the socialist nutjobs who spent the last three years milking the eastern terrories to death don’t like it one bit.
Can you remember when you last saw one of those jolly blue and yellow Ukraine flags fluttering in a garage forecourt / garden centre / village hall / burger bar? No, me neither. That particular virtue seems to have lost its signal. Let’s take a short hop down memory lane, a mere two years ago in March 2023 when the war was still a twinkle in the eye of every arms-dealer. That was the week when an idle group of residents gathered in the marketplace of a quiet English town called Malmesbury, to stand in solidarity beside a cardboard cut-out of President Zelensky.
A perfect post-truth sample of the bovine bimbos -male and female- who fed europe into the drooling jaws of globalism. Battered and bewildered by lockdown lies and covidian tyranny, these well-intentioned fools literally stood in the street posing with a two-dimensional image of a failed actor from a foreign country, to demand that bankrupt Britain send countless billions to fight an unwinnable war on a miserable stretch of farmland they couldn’t find on a map.
Make no mistake -every one of these people thinks they are good ‘global citizens’. In a few short years, when the grid goes down and the lights go out, they will sit in the dark chewing dog-food, praying for a drop in carbon emissions.
THE UKRANIAN WORLD ORDER
Britain’s role as european bleeding hearts-in-chief jumped the shark on Friday, with the announcement that the entire population of Gaza are now able to climb aboard the flabby, rapidly-sinking migrant dinghy of the UK. And -would you believe it?- all thanks to “human rights legislation” originally created to let Ukraine war-refugees move to England.
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Of course, this is brilliant news for the thousands of Palestinians who turn out every weekend for a victory-lap around the newly-occupied London Strip, which is basically Gaza-on-the-Thames, but with knives and nightclubs instead of rocks and tunnels. On a practical note, there are about two million people currently in Gaza- a number Britain can easily accommodate by jailing the population of Manchester (who are all far-right anyway) and replacing them with Palestinians who won’t mind living four to a room.
Somewhere in the voter-proof bunker beneath Labour Party HQ, black lesbian Marxists are weeping tears of joy to find themselves in a paradise like Britain. Where else can you order a fresh Hamas desperado wrapped in a Ukraine flag delivered to your door on a moped ridden by a trans Albanian schoolboy?
It would be nice to see the war-mongers - Joe Biden, Boris Johnson, Emmanuel Macron and the rest- dragged in front of a court to explain why this obscene exercise in celebrity-sponsored mass-murder was necessary in the first place. But that would be in a parallel universe where human suffering wasn’t item #33 on page six of the WEF agenda.
Ukraine’s game is up but like every dictator since Caligula, the King of Kiev is not going down without a flight. In Zelensky’s case, about six flights a week, as he jets from TV studio to TV studio bleating for nuclear weapons as if they are available on Amazon-Prime (super-fast delivery please with no P&P charges -do you take Mastercard?). When he’s not grooming Piers Morgan (how low can you go) he’s announcing that his top-secret spies have discovered Valdimir Putin is planning to invade Scotland next Tuesday. As if a failed state like the UK was something Russia needed in a hurry. I have observed before that Britain’s only geo-political functions are (a) as a launching pad for American nuclear arms and (b) as a Holiday Inn with a cash-point attached for nomadic migrants.
Trump, naturally, has begun his own negotiations with the Kremlin. With predictable aplomb, he has given the NATO countries their marching orders -literally. If Starmer and his mincing French chum want troops on the Ukranian border they’d better round up some of their their own little boys.
Starmer. naturally, appeared pronto Tonto in the pages of the Daily Telegraph wearing his cammo threads, to announce “I am ready and willing to put British troops in Ukraine.”
Of course, rather queer Kier is ‘ready and willing’ to read whatever comic dialogue lands on his desk, so long as he gets to keep playing Fantasy League Politics on his laptop. His latest declaration must have sent them rolling in the aisles at Aldershot barracks. Champagne corks will be popping in the High Street Army-Recruitment offices in anticipation of another quiet year. Just imagine -in the white-trash ghettos of Liverpool, Glasgow and Birmingham a million or more inspired young men are leaping from their sofas, stubbing out their spliffs and shouting “Count me in! I’m off to fight Russia for democracy!” (not)
The blokes working Starmer from behind (if you’ll pardon the expression) must wonder if there is anything at all he can’t be persuaded to say at this point. “I am ready and willing to dance the Waltz of the Sugar Plum Fairy live on Channel 4…”
IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL, VOLODYMYR, ONLY BUSINESS
Behind the weeping and wailing and gnashing of cheque-books, if you listen carefully you can hear the sound of the Great Ukraine Gravy Train thundering off the rails and screeching to a halt in the scrapyard of depleted-uranium shells and human body-parts they used to call Donetsk Ublast. But please tell me, grasshopper - if a train crashes in the middle of an empty tundra, does anyone hear it?
The spectacle of the failed dictator Zelensky scampering between foreign capital cities in search of a bolt-hole is truly repulsive. It’s that moment in the gangster movie when the creepy mafia boss realises nobody wants to meet for a drink, the chauffeur hasn’t turned up for work and half the bodyguards have called in sick.
I doubt Volodymyr will have much time left to reflect on what a strange and mysterious war he was really waging. An “existential battle for democracy” that somehow allowed Ukraine’s Premier League football teams to turn out every Saturday. A “heroic display of patriotism” in which the president regularly bombed his own citizens on the eastern front. It won’t be much fun watching as Putin reinforces his border in the former Russian-speaking territories where Zelensky was despised all along. It won’t be much consolation to the millions of war-refugees that the 2022-25 slaughter was merely the ninth or tenth time Ukraine has been bought, sold, raped and robbed in the last 300 years.
Chances are the Goodfellas won’t whack Zelbo immediately. Like many a despot before, he will probably be invited to “live in exile” in one of the various multi-million dollar mansions he snapped up while the International Aid grift was running full-tilt. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he holes up in one of those prole-proof billionaire blocks in Londonistan itself. He’d fit in nicely among the Iranian arms-dealers, Arab oil-bandits, Chinese banksters and Russian oligarchs. I gather they like to socialise after dark in the armour-plated underground casinos, relax over a bong or two and reminisce about the good old days when Bono and Boris would drop in for a jar. Why, I can almost hear the announcement in that familiar nasal whine coming live from number 10 Downing St…
“On behalf of the people of Britain and Good King Charles, I am ready and willing to present the asylum-seeker in chief Sir Volodymyr Zelensky, with the keys to the City of London…”
February 17, 2025