Islamophobia is a made up term that uses the West's suicidal empathy to shut off its survival instinct. If a religion seeks to eradicate your heritage, culture, society, civilization, and religion, then it is perfectly RATIONAL to be phobic of its intrusion into your societies.
🚨 So now the muslim organisation @5Pillarsuk are calling for muslim men to learn how to fight and be ready to "defend" themselves.
Mosques across the country are now being directed to offer Martial arts training as a compulsary measure.
Men of Britain need to take the same approach, we need to be ready for the war that is approaching.
Get fit, get strong and learn how to defend yourself and your family before its too late.
🚨 BREAKING: THE MASK HAS COMPLETELY SLIPPED ON THE NEW PRIME MINISTER.
Andy Burnham has just delivered his very first major policy speech as the presumptive Prime Minister, and his true authoritarian colours are already on full display. 🤡
He literally stood at the podium and declared: "The political direction I will set is not up for negotiation."
You honestly have to laugh at the absolute brass neck of this man!
He is not even inside Downing Street yet, and he is already dictating his terms like a tin-pot dictator.
He spent the last 9 years pretending to be a soft-spoken champion of local democracy and "collaborative politics" just to get his foot in the door.
But the second he gets within touching distance of absolute power, he admits the truth.
He is going to force his hard-left, pension-destroying, pro-EU agenda on this country, and he is telling the British public that you have absolutely zero say in it.
This is not leadership. This is a hostile takeover by the globalist uniparty.
RT to expose the real, dictatorial Andy Burnham before they officially crown him on July 20th! 🔁🇬🇧🔥
Last week, a Muslim woman entered our family ranch store and asked for Halal beef. When I told her we do not offer it, she demanded to know why not. As she turned to leave, I extended my hand in a simple gesture of goodwill—only for her to refuse it outright. The same person who expects us to accommodate her faith’s ritualistic slaughter of our livestock—complete with specific blessings and throat-cutting methods—could not bring herself to touch a Christian man’s hand. It was a stark reminder that some demands for tolerance flow only in one direction: ours.
Lion and sun , baby !
Real flag of Iran , is the magnificent sun and lion flag…
The sun and lion logo on that flag , pre dates Islam and majority of countries in the world…
We stopped disciplining children and started diagnosing them.
Now we have a country full of adults who think everything is someone else's fault.
Tell me I’m wrong.
🚨 13 years ago today, British soldier Lee Rigby was hacked to death in broad daylight on a London street by two Muslim converts screaming “Allahu Akbar.”
They ran him over, beheaded him, and then stood there - hands dripping with blood, butcher knives in hand - preaching jihad to the cameras while Brits casually walked past like it was just another Tuesday.
This wasn’t some random crime.
This was a declaration of war on British soil.
And what did “modern Britain” do?
• Imported hundreds of thousands more.
• Called anyone noticing “far-right.”
• Let grooming gangs, no-go zones, and terror flags multiply.
Lee Rigby’s blood was supposed to be the last straw. Instead, the elites doubled down.
How many more soldiers, girls, and citizens have to die before we admit mass migration from incompatible cultures was a suicidal mistake?
RIP Lee Rigby.
Your murder exposed the rot.
The question is: will Britain ever grow a spine again?
#LeeRigby #NeverForget #MassDeportationNow
I don’t know about anyone else but I can’t believe what I’m seeing & hearing with this country anymore.
It just feels that I went to bed one night & woke up the next night in a completely different country.
Absolutely nothing is like it used to be & it just feels that they are just pushing & pushing on purpose until we hopefully snap & they can bring in restrictions to our lives.
The people that are doing this to us are just pure evil.
No.
1. You can't change the constitution by some words in the sovereign grant
2. He is Defender of the Faith and Head of the Church of England. Those are his obligations. His duty.
A King who will not do his duty is no King.
Bob Geldof did not want them on the bill.
He had agreed to include Queen in the Live Aid lineup only reluctantly, pushed by promoter Harvey Goldsmith. By the summer of 1985, Geldof was not alone in thinking their moment had passed. Their biggest hits were nearly a decade old. Critics had started writing them off. Privately, the band itself was wondering if it was finished.
Then came July 13, 1985.
What nobody watching that day knew was what had happened the week before. Queen had booked the 400-seat Shaw Theatre near King's Cross in London and rehearsed their 21-minute set down to the exact second. Not the general shape of it. The exact second. Six songs, every beat drilled until nothing could go wrong.
And then, reportedly, their roadies disabled the sound limiters on the PA before the set. Every other band on that stage was capped. Queen was not.
At 6:41 PM, Freddie Mercury walked out. White jeans. White tank top. Studded armband. Seventy-two thousand people erupted.
He sat at the piano and played the opening of Bohemian Rhapsody, not the whole song, just enough to set the crowd on fire. Then he stood. Strode to the microphone.
Radio Ga Ga filled the stadium. Seventy-two thousand people raised their hands in perfect unison, one of the most iconic images of the entire decade.
Then Freddie stopped the band. He turned to the crowd. He opened his mouth and sang a single sustained note.
""Aaaaaaay-o.""
And waited.
Seventy-two thousand people sang it back. He went higher. They followed. Higher still. They stayed with him. Back and forth, the note climbing, the crowd holding on, the moment stretching into something that felt almost sacred.
It would later be called The Note Heard Round the World.
They tore through Hammer to Fall, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, a shortened We Will Rock You, and finally We Are the Champions. The stadium shook.
Twenty-one minutes after they walked on, Queen walked off.
Bob Geldof, the man who had not wanted them there, said afterward: ""Queen were absolutely the best band of the day. They played the best, had the best sound, used their time to the full. It was the perfect stage for Freddie: the whole world.""
An estimated 1.9 billion people across 150 nations had been watching. In 2005, music industry insiders voted it the single greatest rock performance in history. Not one of the greatest. The greatest.
Authors and musicians who were there have said those 21 minutes may have saved the band itself, that Queen was on the verge of a permanent split, and that afternoon reminded all four of them what they were still capable of together.
Freddie Mercury died on November 24, 1991. He was 45 years old.
But on July 13, 1985, for 21 minutes, standing before 72,000 people under a London summer sky, he was the most alive person on earth.
Saw this on FB: 🔥 🔥
On day 1 of my high school history class, our teacher got up and said:
“You are 15 or 16 years old. 200 years ago, people your age were married, planted crops, had children and built a cabin before winter.
You can do your homework. The bar is set embarrassingly low. You are not dealing with regional famine or plague. You do not have to save your family from marauders or go into battle to destroy your enemies.
You just have to sit down and learn from someone who cares about you in a safe air-conditioned room.
You have no excuses.”
This is the kind of teachers we need.
Yet again the people HE SERVES were not consulted.
You are the defender of THE faith, sausage fingers.
Not the defender of all.
Who needs the monarchy anymore?
How is it possible this boy was found not guilty?
"The knife went into her. Then I pulled it out. I didn't know what to do. She put her hand to her chest."
The boy said Aria then fell to the floor. He then walked to Worle railway station, where he told a group of children that he had killed Aria accidentally. He borrowed a phone belonging to another boy and searched "what happens if you kill…".
Another girl then called the police, prompting the boy to run onto a train, before he was arrested by officers. He didn't try to help her. Didn't bother to call an ambulance. First thing he did when he got his hands on a phone was Google the consequences he might face.
And then tried to flee said consequences.
That poor girl and her family 💔
Calling all the “Refugees Welcome Here” warriors, this is your moment, kings and queens of compassion! Time to put your money (and spare bedroom) where your “Welcome here” mouth is.
How many will actually do it?
None. Fucking none of them.
Schockierend: Von ca. 50 Millionen Muslimen in Europa leben 40 Millionen von Sozialhilfe.
80 % auf Kosten der Steuerzahler. Das ist keine Integration – das ist ein Systemversagen mit Ansage.
Wann wacht Europa endlich auf?
A sixteen-cow farm in Cheshire is rationing its milk and trying to buy another cow, all because the best striker on the planet mentioned it once on YouTube.
Erling Haaland drinks raw milk. A glass in the morning, another after training, a ritual he has kept since he was a boy. He calls it his magic potion, a superfood, good for the stomach, the skin, the bones and the muscles. Then he showed six million people a glass of it, and the quiet little dairy he buys from has not been quiet since.
That dairy is Greenoaks Farm in Mobberley. Sixteen cows, calves left on their mothers, a couple of hundred litres a day sold straight to whoever turns up at the gate. Since the video it has been, in its own words, frazzled. Orders skyrocketing, staff flat out, a Facebook post saying they hope to buy a new dairy cow very soon just to keep pace. One footballer, one phone, and a small British farm got a surge no dairy campaign has managed in years.
Start with what is actually in the glass. Cream still sitting on top. The fat-soluble vitamins intact, the enzymes still working, the native bacteria still alive, none of it boiled off in a factory to buy a few extra days of shelf life. This is the milk people drank for ten thousand years before anyone built a pasteurisation plant.
A farmer who sells it by the tens of thousands of gallons calls it fantastic for muscle repair and growth. You can argue that claim all day. A glass of it is currently leading the line for one of the best teams in the world.
Now watch the reaction, because the reaction is the whole story. The Food Standards Agency files raw milk under risky and insists there is little credible evidence it does anything at all. A former Manchester City nutritionist went on the BBC to warn fans off copying him, to stop chasing trends and do the mundane stuff properly instead. A man paid to think about nutrition, gently correcting the best goalscorer alive about his own breakfast.
And look at the friction they built around it. You cannot buy raw milk in a British shop or supermarket. It is perfectly legal, and they have still made it as awkward as possible to get hold of, so you drive to the farm gate or you go without.
The clampdown has not worked. Some of his own teammates were on it before he arrived. Across the country the orders are now outrunning the cows, small dairies selling out, a whole quiet trade stepping into the daylight on the back of one glass of milk.
The experts say there is no evidence. The evidence is putting the ball in the net every few days, and it begins each morning at a sixteen-cow farm that cannot pour fast enough to keep up.
And now I’m here. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. I’ve come to a proper village fete in Frogham in the New Forest. I’ve paid 50 pence for raffle tickets at the bottle tombola (I won a bottle of Diet Coke and not the alcohol I’d hope for), I totally failed to knock a single coconut off at the shy, but I did win a little packet of sweets by knocking tin cans down with a bean bag at the stall next to it. This is exactly like the village fetes my Mum took me to fifty years or so ago. It hasn’t changed a bit. A totally perfect slice of English life.