Red, White & Blue


In our common struggle against those waning Globalists who deny our unique identities, it’s vital that we remember genuine friendships between nations. We may have a network of relationships around the globe, but for Britain, our defining friendships are with France and the USA, representing Europe and the Anglosphere respectively.

Much of the American Constitution is rooted in Magna Carta, first declaration of limits to the power of monarchy – and Britain gave to the American people the plot of England where it was signed.  We share attitudes passed down from the Anglo-Saxons, whose culture offered rights we wouldn’t see again until the 20th century.  Even the right to bear arms has its origins in the English Militias of the middle ages.

More than any two nations, we have laughed, cried, loved and died together, singing each other’s songs, fighting each other’s corner, walking into desert hells and taking the flak for each other’s errors, upheld by values we ourselves can hardly enunciate, they are so deeply entrenched.

So, what of France?

Well, we both know we are infinitely superior – if only the other one would stop pretending they were. Britain and France are two grande dames who have spent a thousand years trying to up-stage each other.  The French are pragmatists posing as romantics, Catholics posing as secular, traditionalists posing as avant garde.  The British are romantics posing as phlegmatic, pagans posing as Protestant, eccentrics posing as traditionalists. We are basically a pair of old frauds.

The only reason the French helped America win the War of Independence was to spite us. If the Americans responded in true ‘Perfidious Albion’ style – not repaying the war-debt, plunging France into bankruptcy and revolution – then, c’est la vie.

And if we replaced the raw materials we could no longer get from America, by kicking the French out of India – well, what can I say?  Voila!

But we have died together in our thousands in the mud, and France and Britain stood unaided together to fight in September 1939; for us a Pyrrhic victory, for France an unaccredited act of suicidal valour given she was still decimated following WW1, and shared a long defenceless border with our common foe.

I have seen Englishmen weep publicly only twice: as the towers fell on 911, and as French families were mown down by Islamists while celebrating Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.

This, mes amis, is love born of true friendship.

Our ancestral memories are our roots, and history shows that, no matter what orders we are given from on high, roots are impossible to eradicate. Those who seek to weaken our roots try to force-feed us our differences, in their efforts to create fake unity. But at heart, we know who we are – and we know who our friends are.

As we share a Christian festival whose celebrants must be guarded by armed men, let’s make a New Year Resolution that, this time next year, we will have strengthened the bonds which matter, and loosened those which don’t.  Because this is a time of existential crisis, and such times are when we must be true to ourselves, and cherish the friendships which count, in honesty and honour, instead of forcing ourselves to tolerate the intolerable, and fooling no-one.