Britain is not an Islamic country, yet. We should not change our way of life to accommodate practices that have no place in any civilised society - sharia law, the burqa, halal slaughter, cousin marriage and more.
Britain is a Christian country, and under a Restore Britain Government it would remain that way.
We would not tolerate mass dominating Islamic prayer overtaking public spaces, entire schools would not be closed for Eid.
None of this is controversial. None of this should generate hysteria. But of course it will.
If a Muslim wants to live under sharia law, there are many countries to choose from.
I wish them well on their travels.
But this is Britain, and we have already tolerated the intolerable for too long. That must end.
There is finally a political party that has the courage to unapologetically stand up and defend the British way of life - one that is absolutely rooted in Christianity.
That party is Restore Britain.
Impractical farmer here. First thing I bought after putting up our commercial greenhouse was this little telescopic net & every night before I close it I rescue all the bumblebees & put them outside.
@Korteacres I can eat pretty much any part of the cow, except the kidneys. I do soak the liver in salted milk or buttermilk. Maybe I should try kidney again, but I’m not in a hurry!
History made. We won ten out of ten seats, with overwhelming majorities in every single one.
Great Yarmouth First, then we Restore Britain.
A very special day.
Found this bookstore in Sapporo where the owner will read to you. Out loud. For free. Any book you want, as long as you want.
Seemed random until I learned why he does it.
His wife had dementia. Last 4 years of her life, she didn't recognize him, didn't remember their 50 years together, nothing. But when he read to her, she'd calm down. Focus. Sometimes smile.
He read to her every single day until she passed.
After she died, he didn't know what to do with himself. Then one day a young woman was crying in the bookstore. He asked if he could read to her. She looked at him like he was insane but said okay.
He read to her for 90 minutes. When he finished, she said it was the first time in weeks she'd felt peaceful.
Now he does it regularly. Businessmen on lunch breaks, stressed students, elderly people who live alone, tourists who don't even speak Japanese. He reads to all of them.
Sometimes people fall asleep. He just covers them with a blanket and keeps reading.
He said "my wife can't hear me anymore, but all these people can. So I'll keep reading."
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Some women need rest, some need help, some are truly struggling, but there is also a broader cultural sickness here, where women are taught that joy in the home is simple-minded, that delight in one’s children is unserious, and that the only respectable way to do motherhood is half-medicated and counting the hours until bedtime, or until the husband gets home, and I do not know about you, but this is not how I want to live, this is not what I want my testimony, my memory and who I am to be carried onto the story of my children’s lives. This is a miserable way to exist, and it is not the only option available.
You buy a German anvil. It contains 83 moving parts and requires winding twice a day. It's forged from excellent steel, holds tolerances across all three striking faces to within three microns, includes a beautifully indexed horn-adjustment mechanism nobody asked for, and requires a proprietary 11-point spanner should you need to replace the rebound calibration bushing. It runs flawlessly for years, but one day it starts up in limp mode because the onboard anvil-management system detects that it's overdue for its 50,000-strike inspection.
You search AliExpress for a Chinese anvil, and are presented with a multitude of offerings from such household-name brands as DUKXJYIBF, HDBTGMXI, AND UEJQIP. They're all priced to within a few pennies of each other, appear completely identical except for the nameplate, and obviously all came out of the same factory. You text your blacksmith friend to ask if they're legit. He tells you he got one like that from KIXJBU a few years ago, and that it's been great and a terrific deal. You thank him, but KIXJBU seems to have folded so you buy the one from UEJQIP. When it arrives, it feels suspiciously light. You scratch it and realize it's iron-plated aluminum.
You buy an American anvil. It's five times the price of the competition, but it comes from a brand that your great-grandfather used to love. It comes boxed with a warranty registration postcard, twenty pages of safety instructions, assay certificate, and a regulatory slip which lists its FCC certification and ITAR registration. It looks just like your friend's KIXJBU. There's a "Made In China" sticker on the bottom.
You buy a Russian anvil. It arrives coated in cosmoline, wrapped in newspaper from 1974, and weighing 40% more than advertised. The finish looks like it was machined with a shovel. The face is not flat, but somehow this does not matter. You drop it off a truck, accidentally leave it outside for six winters, and use it to straighten a bulldozer blade. It's fine.
You buy a Swedish anvil. It comes flat-packed in a long cardboard box with cheerful Neo-Grotesk lettering and a line drawing of a smiling man assembling it with an Allen key. The instructions contain no words, only pictograms showing the anvil face, horn, waist, feet, and 112 identical-looking fasteners. Halfway through assembly, you discover that the pritchel hole was installed upside down, but only because you used peg B17 where you should have used peg B71. Once assembled, it is clean, stable, and works better than it has any right to. You immediately wonder whether you should have bought two.
You buy a Japanese anvil. It arrives wrapped in rice paper inside a paulownia box, accompanied by a certificate bearing three generations of signatures and a photograph of the first production example being presented to the Emperor. The face has been hand-polished by a seventy-eight-year-old master whose family has made striking surfaces since the Muromachi period. You are given detailed instructions for oiling it with a cloth folded in a specific way. It is the most beautiful object you own. You never quite work up the nerve to strike it.
This is what I call "The Death of the Reader".
Authors write for readers, who aren't authors. Artists paint for non-artists. Musicians play for non-musicians.
This keeps fiction, art, and music grounded.
But when any group stops creating for an external audience, and starts trying to impress only each other, they create a weird, self-reinforcing feedback loop.
This isn't clothing, or even fashion. It's a costume party. They're all trying one-up each other with something weirder and more eye-catching.
So when an athlete, of recent and topical celebrity, who isn't a part of their Bored Billionaires' Club, shows up in a dress that's just a dress, of course they are going to mock her. She's just revealed that she didn't get the memo. That she's not an insider.
How she looks to the world at large is not the point.
This is why 99.999...% of copies of "Infinite Jest" have never been read. This is why John Cage "wrote" four minutes of silence. This is why competitive bodybuilders from the 80s looked like Greek gods, and modern ones look like gargoyle freaks.
It's all the Death of the Reader.
Hollywood doesn't make movies for you now. They hate you. They make movies for each other.
And then cry about how you didn't buy a ticket, because they think your only role is to pay for their onanistic circle of self indulgence.
This game isn't going to stop. It's just going to keep getting weirder until someone's dress malfunctions and catches fire, and the rest of us all have a good laugh.
Dear Microsoft, when I hit the Windows Start menu key and start typing a word to autocomplete a search, I never, ever, EVER want it to return results of something not on my computer. Ever. Like, ever, ever, never.
Jeeves (may he rest in peace) was the product of a very different cultural, technological and demographic era. Anachronistic as he might seem today (and minor though he turned out to be in the story of the internet), the trope of the omniscient English butler was, for a few years, a successful addition to an American search engine, and, in some ways, a manifestation of British "soft power".
When Ask Jeeves was launched, in 1996, Britain had a bigger GDP than China and India put together; had hundreds of hereditary peers; and could count a higher percentage of Americans among its diaspora. Wodehouse had died less than a generation ago, and digital services, which were yet to be truly globalised, were still in a period of playful non-optimisation.
Today, Jeeves would be a nonsensical addition to the branding of an LLM. The cultural trope of the omniscient English butler still exists, but has lost its potency. Farewell, Jeeves: we shall not look upon his like again.
I regret to inform you that Ask Jeeves is dead. The site closed yesterday. Web 1.0 lost another founder.
Ask Jeeves: 3 June 1996 - 1 May 2026. Send no memes.
Scottish Highlander here.
Ten years ago I knew nothing about growing. But it became a calling, so I put in endless sleepless nights studying while also still running some big engineering projects.
Step by step, mistake after mistake, I built a 70 tree orchard (apples, pears, plums, cherries), 800+ strawberry plants, raspberries runs, 50 odd blueberry bushes, 3 large polytunnels and a greenhouse, perennials that come back every year, large chicken coop, bees… all in the Highlands.
Nothing extreme or flashy — just steady, practical work that puts real food on the table and gives a bit more independence and less reliance on supermarkets.
Thank God it’s nearly finished and I can finally relax again for a while.
This is how I believe we start restoring Britain: practical resilience, one seed, one row, one season.
Traditional thinking blended with science and community.
If you’re into genuine Highland growing and common-sense self-reliance, you’re welcome here.
'I have developed a number of closed looped (small scale) growing systems that optimise time, space, environmental conditions and harvest amounts (in cold climates)... on a budget.'
Have you been building or growing lately? 👇
Search is full of ads and wrong answers. Every other email is an ad. Prime Video charges you and shows ads. Paramount? Ads. Peacock? YouTube? Hulu? Ads followed by more ads. Netflix full of ads. Meta and X, every other thing is an ad. Pinterest is nothing but ads. AI is in everything. AI finishes sentences incorrectly and won’t stop. AI reads your email and search history to target you with more ads. Every time you open an app or visit a site there’s an update making it worse. In a hurry? First, click here to agree to terms you don’t have time to read and must accept. You need an account to do that. Change your temporary password. Enter your 2FA code. Check your email and enter that code. Now use a passkey. Your password is too simple to remember. Change it. No, not like that. Now log on. Enter your 2FA code. Check your email for a code… Welcome back! We’ve updated our terms of service and privacy policy (you have none). Subscribe to the site. Subscribe to Netflix. Subscribe to toilet paper. Subscribe to these groceries. Pay a membership fee for the right to subscribe then tip your driver who delivers the subscriptions your membership lets you subscribe to. Time to work? We’ve got to update your laptop and will slow down everything you do until you agree to update. But first, click here to agree. Update installed — your laptop’s broken now. It doesn’t matter, since your boss just replaced you with AI. Go to your phone to complain on social media. Wait, your phone needs an update so we can add more AI. Click here. Oh sorry, your phone can’t handle this update. Now it’s useless. Go get the newest phone. Here’s a text from a friend, an email, a voice mail they left three days ago but you didn’t see until now because of sync problems with the cloud. It’s their GoFundMe. Their MLM. Their Patreon. Never mind, you didn’t respond to their text within 9 minutes and now you’re no longer friends. They blocked you. Make new friends. Download this app to find people in your area. In your neighborhood. On your street. Two doors down from you. Do you know this person yet, we think you’d get along. You need an account to use this app. That username is taken. Enter a password. Not that one, you used it on another site. You need to be connected to WiFi to download the app. Allow the app to connect to other devices on your network. Allow the app to access your contacts, know your precise location, store your credit card details. Oops, sorry, we got hacked now all that info is available on the web. There’s a class action suit. You can join. It’ll take a decade to get your $3.73 share of the ten billion settlement. We’ll send it via PayPal or deposit it to your bank, just tell us those details. Oh no, another hack. That info is circulating now, too. Here’s a spam call, a spam email, a spam text. Why are you angry? Why are you talking about getting rid of your phone? Why don’t you like AI, it lets us make all of this easier? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? This is progress. You’ll be left behind. Do you want to be left behind? Do you???
Romeo - Paul Theobald
Director of Photography - Mike Simpson
Directed by Oliver Bennett and Morgan Watkins Produced by Oliver Bennett, Carolina Toczycka and Morgan Watkins
Social Media Strategy - Bonnie Poynder
Editor - James Hedley
@HeritageSparks Micah 4:4 But they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree; And none shall make them afraid: For the mouth of the Lord of hosts hath spoken it.
and the economics don’t take account of this, at all. this guy’s father had moved his family here for a better life. and they’d gotten it: way higher earnings than anything possible back home. huge success.
but, no, now the child of this arrangement is possessed of never ending wounds, forever. he feels in effect that his family traded their culture and heritage for money, total betrayal. and of course he doesn’t blame the family, he blames the country they immigrated to. why couldn’t it just treat him exactly like the majority even as he maintained a distinct identity different from the majority?
the obvious impossibility of this and the fact he was quite objectively treated better than basically any migrant group into another country ever in history mattered not a bit. it is how he feels, how he will always feel, how his children will feel.
but fret not, our elites are pleased that soon there will be no majority group in this country, soon literally everyone can feel that same rage, that same betrayal, that same sense that something deep and meaningful has been taken from them for monetary rewards — rewards that might even have been realized but will never soothe that simmering rage.
@BiblicalBeauty Is the Betsy-Tacy series too young for her? I loved those, as well as animal books like Lassie, Black Beauty, etc. also, I think I read every Sherlock Holmes I could find at that age. Little House, Moffats, Tolkien’s short books, O. Henry, PG Woodhouse!