I’m coming a bit late to this issue of extremism in English schools, so forgive me if I’ve not grasped the whole situation.
It appears that a few people, who originally come from former colonies, have come to Britain and then asserted themselves in positions of power, namely on the governing bodies of schools in Birmingham. Once they had gained power they began to dictate a quite different leadership style than those schools had been used to.
Apparently, this has turned into something of a furore, and certain people are saying that these extremists are not displaying good British values.
Well, to that, my grandmother, who was British herself and lived in Yorkshire all her life, would say: “Give over, lad!”
If going to a country, getting into positions of power and then telling the locals how things are done aren’t traditional British values then this isn’t the country I know and love.
Perhaps instead of knocking these people, we should applaud them for echoing our own highly effective policies which, lest we forget, built our empire and made Britain great.
Recently, during my weekly shop in Streatham Sainsbury’s, I was searching for the Jerusalem artichokes. When I found them, I noticed there was only one bag left. As I reached to get them, a small Muslim lady elbowed me out of the way and grabbed them for herself.
“Hey!” I said. “Give those back, you vicious, uncivilised Muslim.”
“Who are you calling vicious, you big-nosed Jew,” she said, insulting me without any provocation whatsoever.
I didn’t rise to the bait and very politely said, “Would you please give me them back?”
I knew what the answer would be, so I grabbed the artichokes from her basket before she had chance to reply. Unfortunately, she was quicker than she looked and we both had a strong grip of them when the store manager, and my golf partner, Theodore Yankee, appeared at my side.
“What’s the problem, Richard?” Mr Yankee asked.
“Nothing at all,” I replied. “This lady wanted the last bag of Jerusalem artichokes and, despite me having them first, I was just giving them to her.”
“That’s very decent of you.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I would like one small thing in return. I’d like the lady to cook me a meal, using the Jerusalems, then we’ll say no more about it.”
“What a wonderful idea,” said Mr Yankee. “That should even things out.”
After no little encouragement, the lady agreed. I went back to her house in Streatham Vale, and watched TV while she prepared a Jamie Oliver recipe, using the Jerusalems.
The meal was delicious, but at the end of it, I still didn’t feel as if I had been fully compensated for my loss. That being the case, I decided to stay in her house, keeping the lady under house arrest while she catered to my every need. Things were going quite smoothly when, after 10 days, she told me that all the food in the house had run out.
“Why don’t you let me go out and get some supplies?” she asked.
I thought the question impertinent, so I tied the woman up and set her house on fire, before heading off to Sainsbury’s myself.
When I got there, I bumped into my old friend, Theodore Yankee. I explained what had happened and he agreed that while my actions were firm, they were totally fair, given the provocation I had endured.
I thanked him for his understanding my position. I added that, on reflection, it was only reasonable for me to receive suitable compensation from Sainsbury’s itself. Mr Yankee agreed, and said I could have free Jerusalems delivered to my door each week, for life.
I was disgusted at this derisory offer and told him so.
“Theodore,” I said, “your offer is all very well for myself, but what about my children, and my children’s children? Do they have to come to Sainsbury’s and suffer cruel insults at the hands of Muslims? Do you think it is right that innocent children should be punished in this way?”
Theodore saw that my point was a fair one and ensured that my family would get free Jerusalem artichokes and free delivery of their weekly shopping in perpetuity.
We shook hands and I walked home feeling that, after a long, hard struggle, justice had finally been done.
By the factory wall 