Only 5 minutes remained before the ‘Co-opted’ closed. Wes (short for Wessex) had only one side-street still left to navigate undetected through the inclusion zone before he could fill his biddy (a sack made out of old polypropylene). He hated leaving it this tight, but the twilight hour was the best time to leave the Shire – any earlier and he was bound to be accosted at best and tortured and killed at worst. This inclusion zone was fully diverse meaning inhabited exclusively by one ethnic group, and in this case one of the most brutal, the ‘Somas’.
Approaching the partially-lit Co-opted store, the only place within a 30 mile radius that you could get stored foods, Wes caught a brief glimpse of Ki, a ‘co-op’ (a State-sanctioned food administrator), through the metal grate. Ki who had been allocated the highly coveted position due to his mulatto status despised the indigenous people. It was not that he had a particular fondness of any other ethnicity spoken in earnest, but there was something more feral about the Jutters, as they were known in common parlance, what with living out there in the Shire and speaking in that archaic dialect approximating a West Country accent of ere.
For Ki, his feelings of contempt ran much deeper than this, though. Everyone knew that the Jutters were the founders of the nation despite the revisionist history the masses were inculcated with through State education. The Ministry of Inclusive History had spent generations eradicating their ownership of the nation and its culturally hegemonic legacy. It was an effective approach over time not having to resort to the revolutionary purges of the Khmer Rouge or Maoist China. Instead, it began with the removal of statues and monuments, the changing of street names, all the while with the overall support of ethnic minorities and the Left, which made up a large proportion of what was then the indigenous majority.
Nevertheless, despite the lack of resistance this boiling-the-frog approach provoked, it lacked the totality of mass book burnings or confiscation of illicit materials, such as old photographs and films depicting England as a once-successful ethnostate. These sources were ubiquitous and Ki had not only seen many of them but retained some, as officially the populous did not own anything. He had a bizarre fascination with Pride & Prejudice, having seen the 1990s Television adaption on numerous occasions and stored a copy of the novel in an old-filing cabinet hiding a stain in his leased studio flat above the Co-opted. Between the lines, he was charmed by the haughty sensibilities and subtle communications of intent between these eloquently depicted people – people whom he had caught himself on a couple of fleeting ocassions considering whether he was related to before recoiling in self-reproach and disgust. Nonetheless, he buzzed Wes into the store even though he was a couple of minutes late, not that he would have been held accountable for restricting the Jutter’s access. He shared the common opinion that they should be excluded from the inclusion zone, but Ki wasn’t a bad guy after all just didn’t seem to belong anywhere.
On leaving the store. Wes breathed a large sigh. He had four blocks to cross with his biddy. The cover of darkness was a blessing within this sparsely lit ghetto, but he still had to crawl through the hedgerows and squeeze through dilapidated buildings like some alley cat otherwise be caught by one of the Somas gangs that become increasing active at this time. Albion, the tribe older, told him at one time the indigenous people were almost 100 percent of the inhabitants in this region, and that it was so peaceful that people would leave their doors unbolted. If this was true, Wes had one question for his ancestors: How the hell did you let this bloody nightmare happen?
My pre-emptive reply to nationalists yet to come is that unsurprisingly there is no simple answer to this question. Although, I will say that from the turn of the 19 Century an increasingly louder anti-nationalist, Fabian-voice emerged, which then converged or was consumed by the larger forces of a neo-liberal-global-homogeneous order. As for the everyman on the street, he wasn’t aware of his fate until long after the subversion had already taken place, not only on an institutional level but also upon a psychological one, as he had swum in the mind-altering waters of indoctrination. What is more, I would point out that whatever condition nationalism finds itself in after we become a minority in our homeland, he may consider that not all of us went gently into that good night; and perhaps the reason he (or she) could even ask that question is because a small number of us standard-bearers, the vanguard, refused to succumb to the vast weight of a tyrannous leviathan that abandoned its precious liberal values where we were concerned, aware that we were the only true opposition to is sustenance.
Currently, that vanguard holds the line under the banner of Patriotic Alternative; and of those who stand we us – we happy few, we band of brothers, can look nationalists yet to come in the eye through the tunnel of history and say: not in my name! Therefore regardless of whether your contribution is only that of forwarding an article know that you have cast a stone of defiance and stepped onto the field.