“Chinese people in the UK say they are facing increasing levels of racist abuse – and some have had “coronavirus” shouted at them in the street.
One Chinese community group in Birmingham received a Facebook message that said: “The disgusting, barbaric animal cruelty you people do – you all deserve to get the virus.”
Chinese students in Cardiff have told Sky News they have faced abuse while walking to their lectures.”
The UK was never the shining beacon of racial tolerance that some would have you believe but in recent years the rise of nationalism has helped embolden our otherwise cowardly racists.
We can all understand people’s concern about the coronavirus virus outbreak but to use it as an excuse for racial abuse is totally unacceptable.
The supposedly intelligent students of Cardiff who indulge in such racism should be doubly ashamed, except of course that shame is not a component of the racist mindset.
The majority of Britons are not racist, we are sorry that some of us are.
I was a sail or buoy a vessel for you were a flower child. I was a farmer’s hand on virgin land with no plough to till your earth ly ways con sensually wild.
So soon beneath the tell-tale tiles of our riff-raff roof where the fur black cat ran back to where we started. Portes slammed and fenêtre failed until legs were all that parted.
I was a basket case a host for you to be a missionary in every place except position. And between your thighs your holy ghost filled every nebula of life but not the universe of my religion.
And so beneath the chim-chiminey che-roo where our fur black cat once sat with you the faces in your mirror on the wall still stare and I huddle like a child in the corner on the chair as I watch them grin from the scrim.
Before you move onwards and upwards from wherever you may be, it helps to know a little of who you are by knowing a little of who we are. We as animals, we as the smartest apes. We as the most destructive force on the planet.
The insanity of the collective egoic mind, amplified by science and technology, is rapidly taking our species to the brink of disaster. Evolve or die: that is our only choice now. Eckhart Tolle
My first school was a Jewish school, just round the corner from the East London Synagogue. Only a handful of goys attended. I sat next to an olive-skinned girl called Sharon. Neither of us knew what a Jew or a goy was or wasn’t.
My mother and me lived in one room in a slightly bomb damaged house otherwise occupied by Eastern European refugees who’d fled the persecution of World War II. Upstairs a fat women called Irene provided paid services for lonely gentlemen. She was not a Jew either
I had an ‘auntie’ Flo and an ‘uncle’ Israel, and three kittens that went blind from an unknown cause. Auntie Flo had a big voice and a mountain of red candy-floss hair. Uncle Izzy was a squat little man, almost a troll, but with a heart as big as a house. Both fed the children of the square on demand with tastes still to be surpassed, goy and Jew alike. I can still taste Izzy’s baked chicken and tomato rice and feel Auntie Flo’s warm embrace.
By age ten the community had dispersed. Jews to other Jews, supplanted without a trace of irony by poor immigrant Muslims, while we state-dependent goys, without the benefit of tradition and identity, to whatever public housing scheme the government allocated. But for the purchase of two jam doughnuts from a famous and fabulous Jewish bakers in Whitechapel Road our paths were not to cross again.
Until…
… decades later I am on an American cruise ship bound for St Petersburg, Russia. My wife and me take our place at dinner and are joined by a couple, the male of which by way of introduction proclaims loudly:
“I am a Jew and we are from Australia“.
Slightly nonplussed (are Jews so rare in Oz that it warrants an announcement?)
I reply simply, “I am not”.
This is not well met by our Aussie dinner companion who continues to insist that he is a Jew from Australia seemingly expecting an appropriate response. (Does he think I’m a Mossad agent who’s forgotten the secret codeword?)
In an effort to lighten the mood I attempt a weak joke about which of us murdered Jesus but dinner continues as dourly as it began. Utterly baffled, we rush dessert and depart, thankfully never to meet them again.
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I am now an anti-Semite. Not that my affections have changed or because of my experience of half-mad Australians. Not by choice. But because the New Right whose influence is now grossly over represented in England have labelled me as such and anyone else who doesn’t nod along with every squawk and action by the state of Israel.
