A travel editorial on London, England
DOES ANYBODY SPEAK ENGLISH ENGLISH ANYMORE IN THE CAPITAL OF ENGLAND?
The New World Order “multiculturalism” is producing “mutts” where once thoroughbreds lived
TOWARD NATIONS OF OBEDIENT MUTTS – my Jan 1999 editorial
While visiting Stonehenge on Sunday, May 28,, I said to Elizabeth, “let’s get someone to take a picture of us.”
A lady who was standing next to us, “I’ll do it.”
“Oh, you speak English?” I said, sounding genuinely surprised. All day long we had been hearing foreign languages and accents all around us. She just smiled and took the picture.
The reason for my being surprised is that, I can say that safely now, after six days here in England, that this country, and especially London, are no longer English. At least not compared to what I remember the British capital to have been in the 1970s and 1980s.
“Nobody” speaks English English anymore, let alone Queen’s English. Everybody has a foreign accent. Most sounding Eastern European or Asian.
On Saturday night, I shook my head in disbelief as I thought the waitress at a local London pub was asking me if I wanted pizza (!?) with my fish and chips. What she was actually trying to say was if I wanted peas with my order. But the way she pronounced the word came out as peaza. Turns out she was from Moldova.
At our (upscale) hotel on Park Lane, we have not so far spoken to ANY staff member who speaks British English, meaning without a foreign accent. The waiter who served us on Sunday in Salisbury at an ostensibly FRENCH restaurant was actually Italian. And so on
There are also visual reminders that London is no longer an English city. When we went out for a walk through Hyde Park, Elizabeth was shocked at how many women, young and old, wore hijabs or burqas (Muslim female headdress).
I told her that middle eastern invasion started in the 1970s when OPEC was created and the Arab states jacked up the oil prices sky high. Cash flowed into their coffers. And much of it ended up invested in London real estate. The second wave came from Pakistan and India in the 1980s.
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. London and the English are losing their identity. It is all part of the grand design called “multiculturalism,” which is a euphemism for turning the humans from purebreds to mutts.
Sorry, but I like meeting the English in England, the French in France, the Italians in Italy, the Indians in India, or the Poles in Poland. I don’t care for this global ethnic “borsht” that the New World Order is now serving up in London and other major world cities. The New World Order “multiculturalism” is producing “mutts” where once thoroughbreds lived.
How would you like to travel to China, for example, in the hope of learning about the Chinese culture, only to discover that most of the people you meet are tall and blond Scandinavians or Germans who speak English with a foreign accent. Ditto if you were to travel to India or Japan and find a bunch of French or Italians there. (Fat chance, I know. Because those Asian countries are still guarding their culture and ethnic identities).
Not so in London where hearing someone speak English English is a rarity these days.
As I said to Elizabeth after that awful rock concert at the Royal Albert Hall on Friday, “this is not my planet anymore.” And London is not my city anymore. I much preferred the London of the 1970s and 1980s despite all the grime and pollution which it then entailed.
LONDON USED TO BE ONE OF MY FAVORITE CITIES
London used to be one of my favorite cities in the whole world. And not just because of all the workshops, speeches, media events, and other adventures I had held there in the 1970s, 1980s and early 1990s.
Nor because this is where in 1992, my adaptation of the play “THE PROFESSIONAL” was ranked second on the world’s most prestigious theater stage, even ahead of my idol’s Peter O’Toole’s premiere that week.
Because London used to be MY HOME, too. It pains me to see it go to ruin like this.
When I incarnated as King Phillip II of Spain, Netherlands and the New World in the 16th century, and Elizabeth as Queen Mary I, daughter of Henry VIII, we shared our marital bed here.
Ditto when I was King James VI and I of England, Ireland and Scotland in the Shakespearean era of the early 16th century.
Ditto when Elizabeth was Queen Victoria, and I her “consort,” Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, who introduced a crass and industrial island nation to a world of beauty and arts and sciences.
So to see now London, the capital of a once great nation, turn into a city where most people we met don’t even speak proper English, is rather disconcerting. I don’t think I shall be returning to London any time soon unless absolutely necessary. Especially as pounds of sterling seem to run down the drain there as if they were water out of a rusty faucet. I shall let the rich Arabs and Chinese drain that faucet.