Family. Country. Flag. King. Sunday dinner. The village green. Fish & Chips. God. Now that’s patriotism. Who wouldn’t want a bloodbath to save all that from the fiendish Enemies of England who eat babies and don’t speak the King’s English and whose leader is insane?
Look, if you don’t have anyone in your life who you’d be willing to fight to defend, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry you can’t countenance the idea of a community that isn’t built on flags and monarchies. But they exist.
Family. Country. Flag. King. Sunday dinner. The village green. Fish & Chips. God. Now that’s patriotism. Who wouldn’t want a bloodbath to save all that from the fiendish Enemies of England who eat babies and don’t speak the King’s English and whose leader is insane?
Look, if you don’t have anyone in your life who you’d be willing to fight to defend, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry you can’t countenance the idea of a community that isn’t built on flags and monarchies. But they exist.
Pro patria mori, my friend. Pro patria mori. Go in peace.