Thursday, 2 July 2015

Letter From The West Country

Written and Submitted by English Electric

Historically it has never been an easy thing, to invade the West Country. A marching army would face multiple natural obstacles and impediments, from fast flowing rivers to impassable ranges of hills and moors. The men and women of this land could sleep easy in their beds safe in the knowledge that, apart from the occasional coastal raid by Barbary slavers, the World and all its troubles were far, far away.

 The counties of Devon and Cornwall make up the windswept, rocky outcrop that is the West Country peninsula. A region of rolling hills, towering cliffs and wooded river valleys. Of tiny fishing ports, tranquil, picturesque villages and prosperous market towns. A peaceful idyll with shimmering, clear seas and a mild, temperate climate. An impregnable fortress.


“A nation cannot survive treason from within” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

For a while we somehow seemed to escape the attentions of the multicultists. Down here we have a way of dealing with outsiders, Grockles and Emmets. Whilst more than welcome to come for their week or fortnights holiday in the sun, after that they were equally welcome to pack their bags and go away. The riots, stabbings, shootings, robberies, rapes, murders and beheadings that have so enriched the lives of our countrymen up north, though both  frightening and heartbreaking to hear about, seemed very remote and distant.
Besides, if the vast, massed ranks of the men of the North, or the South East or the Midlands couldn't hold back the tide. Were unable or unwilling to defend their wives, daughters and homeland. Then what chance would the few good folk of the West Country stand against such an onslaught.

Perhaps the West Country would hold. When the time came it could be a sanctuary. A place from where our folk could regroup, heal and mend. Before riding out to seek bloody vengeance.

But it seems that was just a dream.

As so often is the case, our enemies were already one step ahead. The gates have been opened. The foot soldiers of a new type of invasion have been landed. They are behind our lines.

They are here. And in numbers that increase by the day.

Perhaps it was naïve to think that we could escape the genocide that is being wrought on White civilization in every corner of the World where it is to be found. Perhaps it was wrong to think that we could cower and hide down here, hoping to escape unscathed from the hateful gaze of our foes and their murderous, wicked intent and actions.

 So I am here to tell you that the Westcountry is dying. A peaceful backwater that most Whites have never even heard of nor know where it is. Our crime? We are White. And Whites must die, so the Westcountry must die. There will be no White flight to here.

There will be no White flight to anywhere.

If we do not fight to live, then we will all die.

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