Godless, postmodern sharks encircle us

Can you hear the music from Jaws playing yet?

Being somewhat of a masochist, I watched the Ginger Fool and his narcissist bride's 'documentary'.

Most of what needs to be said about the programme and its teeth-grindingly tedious participants has been said already elsewhere ad nauseum (emphasis on the nausea). For a couple who so thoroughly shun the limelight, it must be one helluva an ordeal for them to have this round-the-clock media coverage. Now being mentioned by yours truly, they have surely reached the apogee of their fame.

A recurring theme in said whinge-fest is that Markle is and was disliked due to her ethnicity. That she doesn't look very black, was, ahem, a 'successful actress' despite this burden, and that she is widely loathed due to the content of her character is, naturally, overlooked. The appeal to racism is a tried-and-tested technique for many an unpleasant soul. Much easier to cry racist wolf than imagine any criticism aimed at you is valid.

So, too, is glossed over the fact that once-upon-a-time the overwhelming majority of Brits were 'pro-Meghan'. Only once she started defecating on one of our greatest institutions from a great height did the nation turn against the bunny boiler supremo. She is like the bully who plays victim when they eventually get hit back.

According to the Netflix dross, of all the nations in the world Britain is uniquely bad/racist/evil: take your pick, you have heard it all before. We are uniquely besmirched by our past, with the slave traders of Arabia, the human sacrificers of Tenochtitlan and the crazies of Imperial Japan mere playful puppy dogs in comparison to the blood-drenched Union Jack.

Ultimately what Markle is attempting to do, alongside her cretinous hubby, is to demolish the House of Windsor as-is. This might not be such a bad thing if she was pushing for the return of medieval absolute monarchy, but I rather get the feeling she isn't. She is another stormtrooper in the godless, crass cultural invasion ripping through Western society.

It is part of a wider campaign to do away with what has been humanity's most accomplished civilisation, bolstered by educated-but-idiotic types whose brains are full of theorem but who are utterly blind to reality, and who regard obliterating centuries of the accumulated wisdom bestowed unto them as an unmitigated positive. What should come in its place, apart from good vibes and free oat-milk macchiatos, is, however, as yet unclear.

Such types are like branches of a tree which reject the tree and roots to which they are attached. Cutting themselves off from that which sustains them, they fall to their ignorant deaths.

This is not a rare symptom of the modern type. I recall vividly one happy Christmas when I was told that I was akin to Jayda Fransen after telling a relative that I had started going to church. For those not in the know: she is a charmless lady formerly involved with the EDL, Britain First and now the British Freedom Party (whoever they are). My argument that we, ignorant of the stories that undergird our civilisation, are now floating adrift in an sea of amoral mindlessness, received predictably short shrift.

Much damage has been done by the generations who, inheriting the world, decided instead to bequeath consumerism's hollow soul to their children, tossing aside the glory of riches that make up our civilisation. Now that holding these beliefs is a prerequisite for success – you can hardly go into a job interview and say you don't give a fig for equality, diversity or inclusion – they are ever harder to dislodge.

To me Kipling's phrase springs to mind: 'What do they know of England, who only England know?' The circumstances of a fortunate birth is squandered on those who refuse to comprehend our unique national story. Blandly globalist – communicating with other Westerners of the same class, education and beliefs – they fail to grasp both quite how lucky they are and how different much of the world actually is.

Perhaps a stint abroad might cure this. Not one of those Gap Yahs where you end up on a beach in Thailand taking drugs with some sweaty Dutch tourists, but getting thrown in for a good while somewhere where you don't speak the language and you don't know what the hell is going on. Six months of work experience in a North Korean fertiliser factor or milking yaks on the Tibetan plateau ought to do it.

My own experience of this was teaching in a Chinese school in a city of many millions that nobody has heard of. Stuck in this smog-laden urban nightmare, I somehow found myself trying to teach German carols to a group of exceedingly keen students (niche, eh?). As I played a video of Stille Nacht to them, a sense of awe at the beauty of the cathedrals, the music and the traditions stirred in me a homesickness I've not experienced before or since. Although the outward trappings of Christmas were in the shopping centres nearby – puffed up Father Christmas', powdered snow and glitter shoved into every corner – it was as fake as the plastic from which it was all made.

Eventually I made it back to Blighty, to home. Thankfully we still have a home. But it is not clear how much longer for. A new world is in the making by those who loathe the old. What is perhaps most galling is that the majority of those involved in this process do not have their heart in it. The likes of Harry and Meghan are simply on the bandwagon that promises them success and status. Like so many, they hate our history and tradition simply because it pays to do so.

But do not let such thoughts ruin this time of year. After all, we have nearly every other day to worry about these things.

Instead, I wish you, my cherished reader, a very merry Christmas.