Migrant Madness 

Your correspondent has just returned from Italy and has reported previously in these pages on the situation there regarding North African migrants. Al fresco dining is a nightmare, plagued as one is by a succession of North African men approaching your table festooned with trinkets, refusing to read the ‘go away’ hand gestures. Ignoring them is futile as they simply stand there until you end up shouting at them. The locals seem remarkably tolerant and even some tourists buy something from them in the belief that they have solved the problem. Little do they realise that the other hawkers in the plaza now see them as a soft mark and it is like watching the proverbial bees humming round a honey pot.

The influx of unwanted foreigners into Europe with thousands crossing over to England continues unabated. Poor Lampedusa, an island of approximately 6000 people was swamped recently with 7000 migrants, largely North African, seeing its population more than double overnight.

Did these chaps, and they were mainly chaps—young fit ones—roll up their sleeves and see what they could do to help the locals cope with their arrival, did they offer to sweep the streets or fetch the shopping for the old ladies of Lampedusa? Not exactly. From the TV footage they just wandered around the streets, with that glassy eyed and entitled look they seem to assume, making the locals feel less than comfortable in their own homes.

And we have to bear in mind that the mainstream media is fully behind the migrant invasion and will have been keen to portray the most positive picture possible of them. They will not have shown the petty crime, the fights between migrant factions and the sexual harassment of young Lampedusian girls. How can we be sure that took place? Simple; it takes place everywhere else the unwelcome hordes end up be it Hull, Liverpool or Dublin.

The British government is doing next to nothing to deter the invaders. It is now insisting that they must be accommodated in at least three-star hotel accommodation. You read that right, ‘at least’ three-star hotel accommodation. The three-star is bad enough but the ‘at least’ really shows the extent to which our government is taking the mickey on a grand scale. The Home Office says it is costing them £8 million a day which is completely untrue. It is not costing the Home Office a penny, it has no money; it is costing the British taxpayer £8 million a day. Last time I went to London I could not afford a three-star hotel, yet my hard earned taxes are being used to house a horde of scroungers and criminals in three-star hotels and better. Is it any wonder they continue to arrive in droves? Is it any wonder that people in the UK are less than happy about it?

And then there’s the pope, the wonderful apparition who goes by the name of Francis and resides behind thick, high walls, protected by his own army in an independent state which, despite producing nothing but—increasingly—hot air, has unimaginable riches. Pope Francis believes we are not seeing an invasion and that we ought to be glad they are here. He exhorts us to be generous and caring which makes one wonder which part of hot tea and blankets on the beach, a free mobile phone and at least three star hotels is the bad bit. We look forward to el papa opening the gates of the Vatican City and letting them all in. The only precaution he would need to take is to lock up all the nuns.

Roger Watson is a retired academic, editor and writer. He is a columnist with Unity News Network and 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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