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The £3.5bn HMS Prince Of Wales has broken down again in Norway.
Before 1987 every single ship in the British Navy was made by the Government.
Since 1989 they have ALL been built by Private companies and like HS2, Nuclear, Water and Mail.
They are all garbage.
This what we’re up against:
AI videos being made in Sri Lanka, shared here in Britain to stoke fear and division.
The next time someone tells you something MUST be true because they’ve seen it on Facebook…send them this video.
In local elections the voting system means councils often don’t reflect the way people actually vote. Right now millions of local votes don’t help shape the final result. You deserve a voting system where all of your neighbours help shape what happens next https://t.co/uhZe4IG8OZ
The fry-up has been quietly demoted, over the last forty years, from a daily British breakfast to a Saturday indulgence. A hangover meal. A guilty pleasure. The kind of thing you order in a Wetherspoons at half past eleven on a Sunday with a slightly apologetic look at the waitress, on the understanding that you will be having a salad for dinner to make up for it.
Your nutrition app flags it. Your doctor sighs at it. The newspaper runs an article every six months explaining that it will kill you.
This is one of the great practical jokes of modern British life.
The traditional Full English is one of the most nutritionally complete breakfasts a human being can sit down to.
Two eggs from a hen that scratched about in a back garden, eating grubs and kitchen scraps. Complete protein, choline, B12, vitamin D, the whole fat-soluble suite delivered in a yolk the colour of a marigold.
Two rashers of dry-cured back bacon from a Wiltshire pig. Stable saturated fat, B vitamins, selenium.
A pork sausage made that morning with three ingredients by the village butcher. A grilled tomato. Mushrooms cooked in the bacon fat. Black pudding for the iron. A slice of fried bread. A pot of tea strong enough to stand a teaspoon in.
This breakfast fuelled the men who dug the coal, laid the railways, fished the North Sea, and walked twelve miles a day delivering the post. Their cardiovascular disease rate was a fraction of ours. Their diabetes rate was a rounding error. Their obesity rate was zero.
Then sometime around 1985 we were told this breakfast was killing us. We were instructed, by people in offices, to switch to a bowl of corn flakes with skimmed milk. To a yoghurt with fourteen ingredients. To an oat milk latte. To a green smoothie containing more sugar than a can of Coke.
The cardiovascular disease rates climbed.
The diabetes rates climbed.
The obesity rates climbed.
The breakfast did not change. The advice did. The advice was wrong.
A plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, and black pudding will outperform any breakfast designed by a wellness brand in a Shoreditch office. It costs less. It contains no seed oil. It has been keeping the British upright since the Iron Age.
Your grandfather did not feel guilty about his breakfast. He had bigger things to worry about.
So do you.
Eat it on a Tuesday. Without apologising.
The British Vitamin D problem is not new.
Britain sits between 50 and 58 degrees north. London is on the same latitude as Calgary. Edinburgh is level with Moscow. From October to March, the sun does not rise high enough above the horizon for the UVB wavelength your skin needs to actually reach the ground. You can stand naked in February noon sunlight on the south coast and produce essentially zero vitamin D.
This is six months of the year, every year, for the entire history of human habitation on these islands.
The British have known this, in their bones, for ten thousand years.
Look at what was eaten in winter, before anyone had ever heard the term cholecalciferol:
Oily fish. Herring, mackerel, sprats, kippers. Three or four times a week from October to March. A single kipper carries roughly 250 IU of D3.
Cod liver oil. Spooned into every British child between 1850 and 1980, a teaspoon at a time. Distributed free by the Ministry of Food in the war on the explicit understanding that British children needed it through the dark months. Rickets fell by 90 per cent between 1940 and 1960. Cod liver oil was the reason.
Liver. Eaten weekly in working households until 1985.
Egg yolks from hens that had been outside in the summer.
Grass-fed butter, made from cream from cows on summer pasture, the fat-soluble vitamins banked into the cream and eaten through the winter.
The British solution to the British problem, evolved over centuries by people who could not articulate the biochemistry but knew, with absolute certainty, what kept the children growing through the dark months.
Then between 1955 and 2010, the British removed almost all of them.
Cod liver oil reduced to a niche supplement. Liver dropped from weekly to never. Oily fish consumption halved. Eggs rationed by the Department of Health on cholesterol grounds since retracted. Butter replaced with margarine carrying no fat-soluble vitamins at all.
Result, by 2020: roughly half of all British adults are vitamin D deficient by the end of winter. A third of children. Rickets has reappeared in British paediatric wards. The NHS now recommends every adult take a supplement from October to March.
This is the NHS recommending in 2026 what the British diet was doing automatically in 1926.
The geography has not changed. The latitude is the same. The sun is still inadequate from October.
The food used to handle it.
The kippers are still being smoked at Craster. The cod liver oil is on the chemist's shelf. The liver is at the butcher. The butter is in the dairy aisle, behind the spreads.
The sun was always seasonal.
The food was the backup.
The backup got thrown out.
Get it back.
@ParkersCardigan There's a core of a squad capable of becoming established in the Prem here now, keeping them together in the Championship is the problem.
@rushy_sport Real character throughout that team. Heaton, Mee, Bardsley, Tarkowski, Westwood, Barnes etc. We did appreciate it at the time but even more so now looking back
@Natalie_Bromley Just received my season ticket confirmation. My teenage daughter was charged full adult price last season. Refused a refund and told the difference would be knocked off this seasons ticket. She's being charged full adult price again! Club's going downhill.