Addressing things such as populism and nationalism within the context of an alien invasion was an interesting challenge:
The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books
‘God, King and Country!’ Billy reminded the crowd outside Clacton Town Hall. ‘That’s what we stand for. They are stealing our country, kidnapping people right left and centre and undermining all our values. Who cares about pie in the sky?? We want our country back! WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!!’
‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!!’ the huge crowd roared back at him.
Grrndakegra watched the antics. She’d selected right. Billy Smythe could certainly rouse a crowd.
‘Incredible,’ Beheggakegri remarked. ‘Who would have believed it. These Hydrans are truly stupid.’
‘I’m not sure it’s just stupidity,’ Grrndakegra reflected. ‘They seem to have an ability to relate to things emotionally instead of rationally.’
‘That’s the definition of stupidity,’ Beheggakegri chortled.
Grrndakegra looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure what it is. I think it stems back to some kind of tribal allegiance. It overrides logic. They attach themselves to an idea or person and remain loyal to it despite all the evidence.’
Beheggakegri looked baffled. ‘But they were given the whole proof of what those people had been up to. The corruption, greed and violence were laid bare and still they don’t believe it. They had the evidence!’ Beheggakegri looked genuinely nonplussed, his blue forked tongue licking over his scaly lips. He grudgingly shook his head at Grrndakegra in open admiration. ‘That was masterly.’
Grrndakegra couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride. Yes it had been masterly. ‘Easy really,’ she replied modestly. ‘Put out enough stuff contradicting and undermining, foster a climate of distrust, shout conspiracy and fake news loud enough and often enough and you can undermine anything. These Hydrans are remarkably gullible.’
‘I didn’t think it was possible,’ Beheggakegri beamed admiringly. He was so pleased that, even though it went against his nature, he couldn’t help displaying it. ‘When Chameakegra put out all the material that Neff had gathered I thought our glibwort was barbequed.’
‘So did I, so did I,’ Grrndakegra chuckled, ‘but,’ and her mood darkened, ‘we’re not out of the woods yet.’
‘No, indeed,’ Beheggakegri replied. The thoughts of the lunar base and those camps loomed up in his head. ‘But I think we’ve covered our scutes.’
‘I hope so.’
Chapter 17 – Protest
Clacton, despite its ancient history did not have many old buildings to boast of. Apart from a couple of old churches and the pier there was not a lot to attract people to the small seaside town. The population is predominantly a monoculture with a large percentage of white unemployed and single parent families along with a multitude of grey-haired retirees, which rather explains its support for populist politicians and anti-immigrant policies. A walk along the front meant dodging an armada of mobility scooters, having to squint in the dazzling light bouncing off glossy bald heads and trying to walk round waddling blubbery girls pushing pushchairs while trying not to trip over their false eyelashes and gossiping on their mobiles.
On the face of it not an ideal site to place a large detention centre as it was almost certain to stir up local resistance, but perhaps an exceedingly good place to hold a rally against the alien invasion. The local populace were staunchly patriotic, to the point of being nationalistic. If you were talking ‘British Values’, whatever they were, this was the place to go.
Even before the alien invasion every pub, coffee house and queue was a hotbed of gossip concerning how our values were being eroded by bloody immigrants. Now, the immigrants from another star system were truly taking over and those ‘British Values’ were in the process of being discarded altogether. It might appear that the new ‘Universal Values’ of equality, tolerance, empathy, compassion and respect were not very different from the ‘British Values’ that people claimed to espouse. Though, from the heated discussions all over town it was apparent that supporting a set of values associated with your country and cultural and having similar values foisted on us by outsiders were two distinctly different things.
Clacton had been lucky with the weather. A warm sunny day showed off the large paved square overlooked by its two hundred year-old hotel to good effect. The refurbished Royal Hotel made an excellent backdrop combining Victorian charm with modern convenience. The surrounding shops and cafes were looking forward to the event and were hoping to make a killing. The water jets themselves were turned off but by the time the event got underway, with the sun beating down, there would be many who would wish that they’d been left on.
The stage was set early in the morning. A pall of expectation hung in the air. A few children were playing in the square wishing and forlornly hoping that the water jets would start up. The locals, mainly those pensioners and mothers with toddlers in pushchairs, sat around on the seats expectantly waiting for something to start up. Not much ever happened around here. This protest was the biggest thing that had ever happened in years. You could taste the excitement. The square hummed with the chatter of locals with a few buskers already setting up their pitches and rehearsing for when the crowds finally arrived. The locals were waiting, not wanting to miss a second of it.
All through that morning the special coaches and trains flowed into that ancient market town. Clacton hadn’t seen the like of it for many a year. Electricity sang in the air as the crowds rapidly started to grow and the newcomers, all dolled out in their union jacks, flags of St George and assorted regalia gathered in knots discussing what was about to take place. They did not quite know what to do about the cosmopolitan contingents who had flown in from around the world. That was confusing. But they were all united in their opposition to the lizards.
The excitement mounted by the second. They weren’t coming for a day out at the arcades on the pier or strolls along the sandy beaches. They were coming for Billy Smythe. They were coming because the alien lizards were stealing their land; the land they paid homage to. They were angry and were looking to vent their fury. They came with their banners, their flags of St. George and their union jacks to make a statement. They weren’t going to roll over and give away their country. They were going to fight for it.
Some were even dressed as crusaders ready for battle; some wore full costumes made of their flags. They were ready for battle. As they marched from the train and bus station they chanted:
Out, lizards, out!
Hear us all shout!
Out, lizards, out!
We are British, loud and clear,
We are British, WE ARE HERE!
Out, lizards, out!
Hear us all shout!
Out, lizards, out!
Country back!
Country back!
We want our country back!
Out, lizards, out!
Hear us all shout!
Out, lizards, out!
Tens of thousands of them snaked through the main street. It seemed as if the whole 53,000 inhabitants had come out to either cheer them on or gawp. The large stage that had been erected in fountain square in front of the hotel was the focal point and was equipped with a powerful PA. The rumour was that Tommy Robinson was going to speak. Others said Nigel Farage. The two of them seemed to have abandoned their hatred of Muslims and immigrants to focus on alien lizards.
‘More money in it,’ Charly had cynically remarked, scathing of Farage and Robinson who she viewed as opportunists. She found that she had mixed feelings about a number of things as Billy prepared for his big day, but she let them slide. There was something about Farage and Robinson that stuck in her craw. She didn’t like the way they had jumped on the bandwagon. For the most part she kept her thoughts to herself. She agreed with what Billy was doing and was greatly impressed by his rise to prominence. That filled her with pride. The immigrants and aliens both needed dealing with but hypocritical politicians jumping on the bandwagon sickened her. She didn’t want her Billy associated with people she regarded as scum.
They had come down to Clacton the day before. Billy’s unidentified benefactor having provided a luxury suite in the hotel complete with banquet. It felt like being on honeymoon.
On the day neither Farage nor Robinson showed but that didn’t matter. The crowd were content with Billy Smythe. Denby, Cheryl, John, Kathy, Foxy and Debbie had all made the journey down to support their Billy. They took the piss out of him unmercifully but he took it well. He knew they were immensely proud of him.
A few local dignitaries took to the stage to welcome them to Clacton. The dignitaries went down like a bag of sick. The crowd obviously identified them with the reactionary windbags of old. But when Billy took to the stage the crowd went wild.
‘Wow!’ Billy said from the wings, prior to the event, surveying the enormous sea of faces. The square was packed and still people were arriving down the various streets converging on the square. Everywhere was awash with flags like a great field of red and white sunflowers.
When the moment came Billy strode the stage like a veteran showing no signs of nerves. He told the crowd just what they wanted to hear. ‘We have been invaded!! They are trying to destroy our culture – what do we say to that?’
The crowd told him exactly what they said to that. They wanted the alien lizards out! And they expressed that in no uncertain terms: ‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’
‘They’re trying to impose foreign control on us! The think that having a global government will solve all our problems. I say their idea of unity is nothing less than tyranny!’
‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’
‘They tell us that they are revamping our education system. That they are transforming our schools. Setting up propaganda machines more like! Brainwashing our kids!’
‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’
‘They’ve taken our military apart and think we are helpless. They think we are helpless. I ask you – ARE WE HELPLESS??’
‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’
By the time Billy had finished winding them up they were ready to tear the lizards apart with their bare hands.
‘Let’s go to the camp and show them that we don’t want them or their ideas here! We’re British! This is our country! We want our country back!’
‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’
‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!’
The news was dominated by the massive protest.
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