28 February 2012

You're not like us. You're different


Why are you so full of hate?"

"Me? I don't have a hateful bone in my body mate. Ask Bob, he'll tell ya. Ask anyone."

"You are full of anger towards me."

"Bloody right I am."

"Why my friend?"

"Don't bloody 'friend' me. I'm not your friend, never will be."

"You have not answered my question. Is it because you do not know the answer?"

"Alright, if you really want to know, I'll tell you. Look at you. You're not like us. You're different."

"Everyone is different my friend, yet we are all the same."

"You're right about that - you lot are all the bloody same."

"But once we were welcome."

"Not round here you weren't mate."

"But you forget, or perhaps you do not know."

"Are you saying I'm thick?"

"Our forefathers fought alongside your forefathers. My people died with your people. A common enemy, a common prize - freedom"

'Yeah, well there was that. But that was ages ago,. Anyway, we had a meat raffle to raise funds to buy a nice little plaque for you lot. You can see it in the village square. At least you can when the council cleans the graffiti of it."

"We were once friends, allies."

"Not any more. Coming over here, stealing our jobs, going straight on welfare, being given big houses and plasma TVs"

"Tell me, what makes you think this is true of us?"

"Think? Think? I don't bloody think mate - I bloody know."

"How, please tell me. Please."

"Everyone knows. Just read the paper, you know the one with the football and girls with big boobs. And on the radio, and on the telly. Shocking it is, shocking."

"We just want to live in peace, to be accepted. To lead and live a better life."

"Well go back home and be accepted and lead your life there."

"This is my home now"

"No it's not. This is our home. You don't even speak the same language."

"Our guns spoke the same language in those dark days long ago, when we were brothers in arms."

"Spare me the history lecture."

"I shall leave you now."

"Good. Going home are you?"

"Yes Home. Just two streets from here. Perhaps we shall meet again?"

"Doubt it mate. Wont be here much longer"

"I am sorry to hear that"

"Don't go killing me off just yet mate. Nothing wrong with me. Fit as a fiddle. Life in the old dog yet. That's why me and the wife are off next week."


"No mate. Emigrating. Off for a better life than can be had around here with all this crime and unemployment"

He walked away, stopping by a newspaper vendor. Unfolding the newly bought paper, he smiled with self-righteous satisfaction as he read, "Minister promises to get tough on economic refugees".

He tucked the paper under his arm, and walked off mumbling, "About bloody time too. Bloody foreigners." He thought about his new life, the new beginning.

"I hope they spoke English there."

Wherever you may be - be safe
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