Losers: King Arthur, Anglicans, and Keir Starmer
In the Albion ruled by Sir Keir Starmer, Welsh women are arrested for malicious fart attacks while strange migrants rape and pillage the island.
Update: You can watch a video version of this essay at Rumble.
King Arthur was a loser. Stories from every European culture — including Welsh, French, Breton, and Cornish — say he was never defeated in battle, but under his rule an entire island was lost to invaders.
Even worse, Arthur never found the Holy Grail. And even worse than that, the quest for the Grail wasn’t Arthur’s idea. It was dreamed up by a Frenchman named Chretien de Troyes. So you can see why the French started farting in Arthur’s general direction and the Knights of the Round Table ran away under an assault of farm animals.
Some accounts say King Arthur kept winning battles after he went to hell, which helps explain why he’s responsible for the Anglicans. And this is where the story goes horribly wrong for the British Isles, even though we have the comfort of knowing this part of the story is true.
King Henry VII named his first son Arthur in 1486. Arthur married a Spanish princess named Catherine of Aragon in 1501. He promptly died, and Catherine married his brother Henry in 1509. Henry became King Henry VIII.
In 1526, Henry blamed Catherine for their lack of male children. They argued, and Henry told his wife “I’m not a biologist.” Henry won the argument because the patriarchy.
Pope Clement VII refused to annul the marriage (also because the patriarchy). Henry ordered his manservant Thomas Cromwell to find a justification for getting rid of Catherine. Thomas ordered his manservants to scour all the libraries in the kingdom.
We don’t know how many British libraries there were at the time, but the manservant’s manservants found the proof Henry needed in a 12th century book by Geoffrey of Monmouth: The History of the Kings of Britain.
Monmouth said King Arthur ruled an empire. Cromwell traced Henry’s ancestry to Arthur. Therefore, Henry was not a vassal King under the Pope, but an Emperor whose authority exceeded the Pope’s.
Voila. The British Empire and the Church of England were created out of the thin mists of Avalon, and Henry granted his own annulment in 1533.
Yes, the Pope excommunicated him and stripped his title of “Defender of the Faith.” But that didn’t matter, because Henry wasn’t just an Emperor. He made himself Supreme Head of the Church with the power to “visit, redress, reform, correct or amend all errors, heresies and enormities” in the Church of England.
All tithes once paid to Rome were now paid directly to Henry. Even further, Cromwell dissolved and destroyed the monasteries and transferred all their wealth to, you guessed it, Henry.
Henry went on to murder some of his six wives. Thanks to the patriarchy, Henry’s daughter Queen Elizabeth I singlehandedly created the Elizabethan Age, known primarily for the Royal Navy and the worldwide network of British Colonies. Without Elizabeth, the world wouldn’t need to be “decolonized.”
And all of this must be laid at the feet of the first British Emperor, the failed King Arthur.
It would have been better if Arthur had never been born.
But this is the year 2025, and — like climate change — the Church of England has been a slow-moving failure. Even if we accept that strange women lying in ponds distributing swords was a rational basis for said Church, if any religion deserves to fail it’s the one started by Henry VIII.
A decade ago the New York Times said “Britain is Losing its Religion.” Anglicans were not fine with that, and a partial solution to their languid collapse was to hire more women.
More recently, as the Holy Blessing of Serendipity would have it, Anglicans themselves are saying that “Anglicanism is in its worst crisis since Henry VIII.” And their most recent chess move could be to name a migrant woman from Iran as the next Archbishop of Canterbury.
As Cotton Mather once said to himself, “that’s a bold move, let’s see if it pays off.”
Hiring more women is fine. Hiring more women to decolonize a religious patriarchy is a Fool’s Commission, especially when the culture that hires more women also arrests a woman for farting at her lover’s ex-girlfriend over the Internet.
Yes, you read that right. A court in Caernarfon, Wales, recently ruled that a remote fart attack was “malicious” because the female victim felt “unsafe in her own home.” The attacker was arrested in her own separate home, fined £300, and ordered into rehab.
In another example of Holy Serendipity, researchers at the University of Wolverhampton — three hours away from that Welsh seaside court — say the oldest joke ever recorded was a 4,000-year-old fart joke about a young woman in Sumeria.
Closer to Wales — five hours north and fifty years ago — French migrants in a Scottish Castle insulted King Arthur with a fart joke that has become legendary across the English-speaking world: “I fart in your general direction.”
If you think enlightened British comedians came up with that joke in the 1970s, you’re wrong. They stole it from Ben Jonson, a British poet and dramatist second in stature only to William Shakespeare. As Jonson wrote in Act I Scene I of The Alchemist, first performed in 1610 AD, “I fart at thee.”
If you’ve ever read Chaucer or Shakespeare, you know that fart jokes have been a staple of British literature for centuries. Modern high-society Britons think they’re escaping that sordid past, but not even the Bronze Age police arrested women for malicious farting.
If anything, the Kingdom of the Britons is once again losing its religion and simultaneously being surrendered to people who a) don’t speak English, and b) will murder you for joking about their religion.
Four hundred years after Ben Jonson exposed the “plague of dangerous impostors” that infected society — alchemists who said they could turn lead into gold — dear old Blighty is once again infected by impostors who say their magical elixir of diversity will cure British whiteness.
Notable among the charlatans is the Prime Minister himself. For several decades, Britain has been invaded by people who not only can’t speak English but don’t even want to try. And this month Sir Starmer had the audacity to say that Blighty — if she can be bothered to continue as a nation — must “depend on rules” that “give shape to our values.”
“Nations depend on rules,” the failed defender said recently. “Fair rules. Sometimes they’re written down, often they’re not, but either way, they give shape to our values. They guide us towards our rights, of course, but also our responsibilities, the obligations we owe to one another. Now, in a diverse nation like ours, and I celebrate that, these rules become even more important. Without them, we risk becoming an island of strangers, not a nation that walks forward together.”
Not to be rude, but “values” and “fair rules” that include arresting Welsh women for malicious farting and criminalizing silent prayer within earshot of an abortion center can only be English if England has gone backward to an absolutist monarchy (or forward to an Islamic theocracy).
Nevertheless, the backlash against the loser quisling Starmer was swift, and it came from Starmer’s own allies. Left-wing Labour politicians said Starmer risked “legitimizing far-right violence” with his “island of strangers” comment that reflected the “divisive” language of the 1960s.
Labour MP Cat Smith said the staff “are feeling quite hurt and upset by some of the language that has been used, particularly the language around an island of strangers.”
And MP John McDonnell said, “When the Prime Minister referred to … an island of strangers, reflecting the language of Enoch Powell, does he realize how shockingly divisive that could be?”
Just so you know, this is what MP Enoch Powell said in 1968 (perhaps mere meters from the University of Wolverhampton) about a conversation he had with a constituent:
“After a sentence or two about the weather, he suddenly said: If I had the money to go, I wouldn’t stay in this country. I made some deprecatory reply to the effect that even this government wouldn’t last forever; but he took no notice, and continued: I have three children, all of them been through grammar school and two of them married now, with family. I shan’t be satisfied till I have seen them all settled overseas. In this country in 15 or 20 years’ time the black man will have the whip hand over the white man.
I can already hear the chorus of execration. How dare I say such a horrible thing? How dare I stir up trouble and inflame feelings by repeating such a conversation?
The answer is that I do not have the right not to do so. Here is a decent, ordinary fellow Englishman, who in broad daylight in my own town says to me, his Member of Parliament, that his country will not be worth living in for his children.
The people who hate this kind of language are the same people who a) hate the England bequeathed to them by King Henry VIII, b) struggle mightily to save the Church he created out of thin air, and c) want a new “England” of foreigners who hate the empire once ruled by King Charles’ mom.
The United Kingdom of 2025 is a sick joke. It is not united. Its royal family is committing slow-motion suicide. Its people can be arrested for farting at someone from inside their own homes. Their homes are surrounded by people who don’t speak the indigenous language. And, in a dynamic that seems impossible but isn’t, its leaders both hate their indigenous citizens and are afraid of foreigners who share that hate.
This “island of strangers” has always been forging a nation out of violent chaos, and today’s Britons have the same ancient choice: run away or fight.
This is a masterpiece.