When I was a kid, we used to play a game called “ stacks on the mill “. It essentially meant that a kid would lie down and the rest of us would jump on and form a pyramid and chant “ stacks on the mill, more on still “ until the pile of kids collapsed and the poor kid at the bottom of the stack would drag himself or herself out from under the pile of bodies and breathe again.
It was a great game to play – unless you were the poor kid at the bottom of the stack. And I think that we, these days, the normal people, are the poor kid at the bottom of the stack. Let me explain.
It reminds me of what is happening in the world today with world population and the importation of “ refugees “ and economic migrants from Third World Nations. We have been so caring that we are uncaring for our own vulnerable and needy.
We are the poor person at the bottom of the stack and soon, we will collapse from the sheer weight of numbers. But, when it was my childhood game, it was game over and we would all head off home for dinner.
Not so these days. The game keeps playing long after we have gone home to be with our families and enjoy our sense of belonging.
The current immigration from other countries to our countries is unsustainable. We cannot ever be robust enough to withstand the sheer pressure of the weight of numbers that is overwhelming us. Is that what “ they “ want? Our governments seem hell-bent on seeing our economies and societies collapse under the weight of immigration, climate change initiatives, and equality issues that we will suffocate if something does not change.
Our hard earned sense of belonging is being destroyed by governments and bureaucrats, social justice warriors and green leftist idealists.
Patriotism is a bad word. Pride in oneself and one's country is denigrated.
We live in a world of censorship and silence. Unless, of course, you belong to the radical left who seek to expunge any trace of that naughty thing called Heritage.
Unless you are glued to the TV, glued to a road or glued to an art masterpiece, you are no longer considered " worthy " .
To the best of my knowledge, my childhood game referred to the collapse of a mill stack or chimney which would be destroyed under its’ own weight.
And I fear that our governments are doing precisely that.
Enter " Climate Change. "
In order to illustrate my point, I want to tell you a story.
In New Zealand and Australia, in the 1960’s, pubs closed at 6 o’clock. Men knocked off from work at 5 pm, headed to the pub and drank as much as they could until “ time “ was called at 6 pm.
Fortunately, my father was not one of them. He came home from work and tended his family and enjoyed our company and the warm embrace of a place called " home. "
Not far from us, lived a little boy. About 8 years old. Home alone while his Mum and Dad attended the 6 o’clock swill while we ate dinner. I remember him from school: he only had half an ear because, when he was a baby, half of his ear was gnawed off by a rat while he slept in his cot and his parents were out having “ fun. “
After my parents fed us, what was left over was wrapped in newspaper and put across the road from his home. The little boy used to run across the road with his pet dog “ Scruffy “ and together, that little boy and his pal sat and ate the food that my mother had put out for them. Mum felt sorry for that little boy and his dog. The food that was carefully wrapped in newspaper was always a meal, carefully disguised as something we didn't need.
It was nice. It was kind. It was decent. It was the right thing to do.
Anyway, it held roast potatoes, cabbage, roast lamb or mutton, a few bones for the dog and an expectation of a full belly or two for two of society’s forgotten ones. As a caring person, mother and woman, Mum ( Redhead ) did what she could and was glad to do it.
Today we call it charity. Back then, it didn't have a name. It was just what you did.
Now, just imagine that this young lad told the other neglected kids in the neighbourhood that there was a free meal outside at 6 o’clock every night. The next night there might be two more kids and then 3, 4 , 5, 6… at some point my mother would not have been able to keep up.
This is the problem we are facing today. It does not matter how well intentioned you are, at some point there will be a situation where it is “ stacks on the mill, more on still “ and the pyramid collapses.
Our fine Nations are like my Mum: happy to feed a little boy and his hungry dog. But if it becomes 10 hungry kids – what then? My father was only bringing in one wage packet. He didn’t go to the six o’clock swill, so why should he work longer hours to earn the money to pay for food for the families who didn’t share his ethical or social values?
Our Governments do not seem to understand that we are feeling like the kid on the bottom of the childhood game. Overwhelmed with the weight and overwhelmed with the responsibility of looking after those that we simply cannot afford to help anymore.
For myself, I admire my parents for what they did. But today I am expected to be the kid on the bottom of the stack and I am suffocating.
I want to breathe again.
Why our Governments are allowing the UN to inflict this insurmountable burden on us is puzzling. Not only do they want us to feed them, they now want us to clothe them, house them and survive the life threatening and dangerous health issues that they bring to us?
Because, no matter how many we help, more will come.
Stacks on the mill, more on still and we WILL collapse.
If this is the start, the end is a terrifying prospect.
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