Fortress Britain

Every evening, when I’m sitting in my warm, secure house, tucking in to a hearty plate of food, I turn on my expensive flat screen TV and I hear news of those pesky brown people over in North Africa and the Arab Spring nations fighting each other – some minor matter to do with democracy, I gather. Anyway, it now seems that some of them have had the gall to come over to Europe to ‘escape the violence’. Quite a nuisance they’ve been in parts of Italy, sleeping in the streets, and requiring food. The Italian authorities have been calling for other EU countries to help ‘share the burden’ of dealing with these people, and I was growing quite pale at the thought that some of them might even make it as far as Britain. You can thus imagine my great relief when I heard about our own, dear Teresa May’s response on Monday. I was rather worried our government might not see these brown people for the workshy scroungers that they are, and might start saying we’d got to provide some sort of help to people who’ve been fighting against dictatorial regimes propped up by Western governments, had their lives ripped apart by violence, lost loved ones in the struggles, had to leave everything they own and come to a hostile continent, mostly populated by rich strangers who can’t seem to recognise a fellow human in genuine need when they’re staring them in the face. Luckily, Ms May poo-poohed any ridiculous notions of ‘burden-sharing’ and said that countries have got to co-operate to stop this huge deluge of brown people from entering Britain. So we can all sleep easily in our beds, knowing that our government will be working to strengthen our borders. A relief!