The natural order is restored, and I am back in the man cave after a brief trip to Italy. My invitation to meet Giorgia Meloni for an Aperol Spritz must have got lost in the post somewhere, sadly. Or maybe I am just too left-wing for her. Either way, the clean-up of Italy continues, as I have reported before.
Milan Central station is virtually immigrant free; even the chaps with hundreds of mobile phone covers strapped to them and assorted sparkly tat for sale, seem more passive. Perhaps the machine-gun toting Carabinieri has something to do with it. I find it noticeable that the number of armed police patrolling places like Heathrow Airport is inversely proportional to the threat of an Islamic extremist checking in with a suicide bomb strapped to them.
Unite the Kingdom
Passing through London, in the vicinity of King’s Cross station I encountered hundreds of people adorned in flags: Union Flags; St George’s flags; and Welsh flags. As reported by Kathy Gyngell in TCW Defending Freedom this morning, these were not right-wing fascist thugs but ordinary, concerned citizens for whom Tommy Robinson had provided the opportunity to come together and express their concern. Quoting Rebel News, Kathy says that the marchers were made up of ‘Families, pensioners, tradesmen, veterans, and young people…’. This pensioner would have joined them, but I had a train to catch.
Piss off football fans
However, I plan to be back in London this weekend, Football League Committee permitting, for the Championship Playoff Final at Wembley. A contingent of six Watsons is going, and our ranks will be swelled by three Youngs (Toby and two sons) who have decided to support Hull City for the day and join us in the black and amber army.
The final, or exactly who we will be playing, is uncertain as I write, but should be decided by tomorrow. The problem arises due to accusations against Southampton – who won the other semi-final – of cheating by spying on rivals Middlesbrough prior to the game. It was a stupid thing to do, but the reaction seems equally stupid. How much could one man learn watching a training session with an iPhone? One imagines a series of texts back to Southampton HQ as follows: ‘they wear football boots on both feet – have we thought of that?’; ‘they wear a different coloured top for training – I’m getting worried’; and ‘water bottles by the touchline – I think we’re stuffed’.
The outcome could be a hefty fine for Southampton, or the final place could be awarded to Middlesbrough. Either way, at least, we will play someone. There has been mention of postponement, but me and thousands (approximately 40,000) Hull City fans will have purchased hundreds of pounds worth of train tickets and hotel rooms. There will be outrage – outrage I tell you – if the game is cancelled.
Good Queen Bess (he/him)
Is there nothing that cannot be contaminated by the odious ideology of the transgender identitarian obsessives? ITV is screening a new drama about Queen Elizabeth I and airing the theory – dismissed by respectable historians – that the Good Queen was a chap. The theory goes that the real Queen died young and, to keep this from Henry VIII, she was replaced by a boy.
Rubbish or not, the theory is being used as an excuse to portray Queen Elizabeth I as a man. I can just imagine the fun they’ll have with that as a plot. The Good Queen never married or had children but, I imagine, that the trans Queen portrayed will be living his best liberated Tudor lifestyle in the drama. Mark my words. Addressing the troops at Tilbury as they set off to keep us safe from the Spaniards, the Queen may say ‘I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king. Oh, and this’ before hoisting her queenly robes to reveal her meat and two veg.
It probably won’t stop there. Sir Walter Raleigh (he of the cloak in the puddle) won’t be allowed to take back tobacco and sugar from the New World. To avoid offending the public health lobby, Raleigh will probably arrive back at court bearing gifts of quinoa, kombucha and gluten-free products.
Of course, I may be wrong. ITV may resist the temptation to turn Tudor England into a graduate seminar in gender studies. Sir Walter Raleigh may return with tobacco rather than turmeric shots, and Sir Fracis Drake may defeat the Armada without first checking his privilege. Of course, both will be portrayed by black actors. In modern television, commissioning meetings historical accuracy ranks below diversity targets, and ensuring that no sixteenth-century courtier inadvertently uses the wrong pronouns.
Roger Watson is a retired academic, editor and writer. He writes regularly for a range of conservative journals including The Salisbury Review and The European Conservative. He has travelled and worked extensively in the Far East and the Middle East. He lives in Kingston upon Hull, UK.
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