This book is dedicated to Gerald Kaufman, Jewish Member of Parliament for the U.K., ancestrally from Poland, who not only in his policies typifies trends towards an England in the year 2000 as depicted in it, but has taken a lead in trying to prevent its publication by penal action against its author for his writings.

     In June 1991, acting merely on a complaint by Kaufman, police invaded and ransacked the author's home, and seized a copy of the first draft of this book.

     Thereafter, with the necessary scrutiny and consent of the Attorney General, a prosecution was started against him for some other literature seized. This was at the outset suspended by a High Court injunction which the author obtained, pending a Judicial Review by that Court of the legality of the warrant used for the raid, leave for which Review he had previously applied for and had been granted. When that Judicial Review was about to take place in November 1992, the police finally at the last moment, to avoid a High Court decision of censure, admitted that the warrant was invalid, and the search and seizure consequently unlawful; and abandoned the prosecution, agreeing to return all of the property seized and since then retained.

     The Attorney General – the highest law officer in the land appointed by the government of the day- thus stads condemned for having sanctioned under Jewish pressure a prosecution of a political opponent for expressing freedom of thought, an attempt at suppression based moreover on what he must have known was an illegal raid. Such was the threat to freedom in 1992. What will it be like in the year 2000?


     THIS story may be said to be an exercise in second sight. By all means treat it as just a prophetic bad dream, if you wish, unless and until you happen to wake up to find it is really happening. By title it is attached to England because of the historical connotation but this without prejudice to the rest of Britain to which, rest assured, its contents are equally applicable. As a fictional forecast it is neither intended as nor estimated as anything which in terms of the Public Order Act 1986 can cause "racial hatred": a negative concept which does not motivate the author.

     His motivation is concern for his homeland and his folk as once they were and should again become. His anger at what has already happened to England and the English, is now happening and seems set to happen is fully focussed on those who, whatever their race, are ultimately responsible; and most of all concentrated on the renegades of his own race, especially the politicians congregated in the House of Treason beside the Thames at Westminster.

     These are the people, whatever their breed, who are to blame for causing England and the English (and Britain and the British) to approach the year 2000 in the manner depicted in this book. Others, immigrants of other races, have only taken advantage of the treachery of our own renegades. Therefore they should not be made the scapegoats for the prime culpability of the latter who are to be rated the greatest criminals in history for their supreme crime against their own kind.

     This assessment does not conflict with criticism of the presence, influence and effect of incoming Jews, Coloured persons and other racial aliens, providing it is expressed entirely within the context of the condemnation of our own renegades for this consequence of their conduct, so that they and not the racial aliens are the target.

     So, dear reader, whoever you are, condemn not the author for holding up a mirror to the times! Instead hold culpable for the play thereby reflected precisely the players themselves without which there could be no reflection. If anyone, inspired by the elastic terms of Part III of the Public Order Act fancies he detects some "insult", some "threat" or some "abuse" against racially alien immigrants, rest assured that this impression is a misapprehension in the eye of the beholder, and not the intention or consequence of the author. The only offence arising from this chronicle must be charged against those who make the material of this book come true, not the chronicler.

     If, despite this injunction there remains anyone incapable or unwilling to accept this interpretation, then let that person avoid either contemplating or contracting what he erroneously regards as "racial hatred" by the simple expedient of refraining from reading any further. Colin Jordan March 1993.

CHAPTER 1 Annie's Crime and Punishment

     ANNIE Oakwood buttoned her coat, slipped on her outdoor shoes, took the dog's lead down from its peg, and started for the front door, calling the elderly animal after her. Dark brown, the dog had the distinction of two names: one of them prudently adopted for public use; the other a private one prompted by the colour of its coat, and the recollection of Wing-Commander Guy Gibson's similar animal with the same name in The Dam Busters film of decades past.

     Annie, 71 years old, doing her nightly rounds with the dog in her South London suburb in the spring of 1999, could not help continually recalling the district as it had been before the great influx and the resulting change of years ago. She could remember Albion Road before it had been renamed "Abuke Road" after some hero of African "liberation"; Hereward Place before it became "Holocaust Place" in honour of the many millions of Jews exterminated by monsters in the Great War for Democracy of 50 years ago; and the open space for which she was heading when it was Jubilee Gardens and not as now "Humanity Park" with outdoor murals depicting the fusion of all hominids, accompanied by verses to the glory of their oneness.

     The murals, it should be explained, were somewhat unusual in being more or less intelligible in a period in which "Art" had become more or less a passing product of caprice or some sewage of the unconcious. As such it had become virtually meaningless, even to its creators, though acclaimed the more so precisely because of this.

     As Annie neared the park entrance, she let "Nigger" off his lead in readiness. He immediately disappeared under a car parked a little in front of her. "Nigger! Nigger! Come out at once!" she commanded in a suitably muffled tone. Seconds later a somewhat different "Nigger" did shoot out on a low mechanic's trolley, clad in overalls, spanner in hand, closely followed by the excited dog snapping at his heels and barking furiously. Rising rapidly erect the Black man fastened his furious eyes on Annie, and directed at her a spluttering torrent of invective, accusing her of the vilest racism, and threatening instantaneous vengeance including calling the police; while directing a number of unsuccessful kicks in the direction of his namesake. He then sped off to a nearby house, seemingly in pursuit of fulfillment.

     Deeply disconcerted by the development, and perplexed as to how to proceed for the best, Annie lingered at the spot, getting hold of the dog and replacing the lead. Would the Coloured gentleman return? If he did, would an apology heal the situation? The subject of her thoughts did re-appear, but as he did so a screech of brakes betokened the arrival of a speeding police car. Had it been a mere burglary or mugging, it could have been days before the police made an appearance, if at all, but a report of "racism" always ensured an instant response as a top priority of crime equalling if not exceeding murder.

     Annie was not surprised to find that of the two officers who bounded out of the car one was evidently an Indian of some sort, his head swathed in a turban, and the other a dark man of indeterminate breed with large ear-rings and a pointed beard and hair down to his shoulders; since by then a great part of London's police force was Afro-Asian as a result of a recruitment policy placing prime emphasis on combating colour prejudice, not crime. In pursuit of this lofty priority all standards had been reduced if not scrapped altogether, which explained why the bearded man confronting Annie barely topped 1 1/4 meters, and in a preceding and less enlightened age would have been deemed a dwarf destined to excel in a circus. Both of these guardians of the public were, however, more or less proficient in the basic pidgin English then taught and employed in the racially reformed police colleges.

     Thus it was that crime prospered magnificently in the progressive England of the end of the century, most of it left unreported because of lack of police interest, effort and achievement; an arrest and conviction being quite a wondrous rarity. Every town now had its sizeable "no go" area into which the police only ventured on most special occasions, and then in maximum muster and as briefly as possible; normally respecting its inviolability as a sanctuary for those whose outlook on behaviour differed from the the law, and who desired to withdraw entirely from its interference. Indeed such was the ensuing prevalence of crime that a great and growing volume of opinion in the Establishment came to perceive that the only way to respond was radically to lessen the law in order to lessen its breaches.

     So it was that by virtue of the introduction of a policy of super-tolerance in policing a large part of what had hitherto been accounted as crime now became accepted as no more than "doing one's own thing" and "self-expression". Where nevertheless someone was apprehended for some major offence, providing it did not fall into the category of "racism", which alone was absolutely intolerable, that person was usually discharged with effusions of sympathy from the magistrate or judge after submitting the standard plea enthusiastically sponsored by the gargantuan Social Services Department that "It's not my fault. My impulses were to blame". In the instance of Annie the intervention of the two ordinary police officers was very brief, confined to establishing that there was a prima facia case of that dreadful offence known as "racism", and thereupon calling up on their radio the special body devoted to this crime of crimes, the Harmony Force.

     Annie had more than average awareness of the Harmony Force because her nephew Philip worked at the Ministry of Harmony which controlled the Force as a body parallel to but superior to the ordinary police. It consisted of highly selected, highly trained, highly motivated, highly paid young men and women, prize products of the new socially-engineered educational system, assigned to enforce the policies of the Ministry by maintaining surveillence, deterring or detecting dissent or infringement, apprehending offenders against Harmony, ensuring their conviction, and conducting their punishment – and, as an after-service, keeping a close watch on them for the remainder of their lives, thus spent in effect on perpetual probation. The ultimate objective of all their high endeavours was a submissive populace accepting and practising multiracial integration to its culmination in multi-racial interbreeding, the final solution for the elimination of folk-feeling in Whites.

     Within minutes an unmarked vehicle arrived with a male and female occupant in plain clothes. Showing credentials to the ordinary police, they took over, handcuffing Annie and paw-cuffing "Nigger" and pushing them into their vehicle which sped off to their local headquarters. Kept there overnight, an anxious Annie and a no less disturbed "Nigger" were next morning transported to court, there to be denounced by the Coloured complainant, powerfully backed by the pair from the Harmony Force acting as prosecutors. She was, they said, without doubt a regular racist who had displayed her vice in public, and the dog was a culpable accessory. The compliant magistrate then lost no time in sentencing the objectionable "Nigger" to be exterminated, and its owner to undergo six months of Re-education as an in-patient at a House of Harmony, an institution for the inculcation of correct thinking in convicted offenders against Harmony. Only her age and the fact of a first offence saved her, he told her sternly, from a much longer and harsher punishment.

     For six whole months Annie was subjected in solitary confinement to an intensive process of purgation designed to rid her of every vestige of those prohibited thoughts which arose from an outmoded and thoroughly reprehensible awareness of racial ancestry, pride in the heritage of her folk, and a concern for its preservation. Relatives and friends only learned what had happened to her from an official entry in the Harmony Force's Column of Shame in the local press,recording for due opprobrium those convicted of "racism" or other offences against Harmony. No letters or visits were allowed.

     She was obliged to wear day and night a uniform emblazoned on the front with the large letters "I was a racist". The same words were to be found in even larger letters and illuminated at night on all four walls of her window-less cell and on its ceiling also. She was obliged to listen every hour on the hour day and night to a loudspeaker which came on in her cell to conduct the following catechism in respect of which she was given but one day to learn the answers from a Manual of Correction then taken away from her, under threat of loss of food for every mistake, and a lengthening of her sentence for any refusal to comply:

     Q: "Why are you here?"

     A: "Because I was a racist."

     Q: "What is a racist?"

     A: "A wrong-minded person who believes there are inborn differences between human beings."

     Q: "Why is this wrong?"

     A: "Because all human beings are one and the same.

     Q: "What is right thinking?"

     A: "Races do not exist. The only differences between all people everywhere are only superficial results of different environment."

     Q: "What is the right aim?"

     A: "The mixture of all humanity to produce the world man and woman, and eventually the world unisex."

     Q: "When can you go back to the outside world?"

     A: "When I have shown for six months that I have been cured of racism."

     Q: "Do you wish to be cured?"

     A: "Oh, yes I do indeed,most truly and eagerly!"

     So compelling was this catechism of correct thinking that for months after her release Annie would find herself on the hour every hour repeating to herself its questions and answers. Thus engrossed in the ritual of purgation, the six months passed, her treatment was satisfactorily completed, and the day dawned when her cell door was opened, and she was escorted to the gate and the freedom the outside world afforded for conformity to Harmony. At that gate were her son George and his wife Jennifer, fidgeting with embarrassment at her criminality and its impact on the neighbours, waiting to convey her back to her little house in Primrose Street.

     Back at home at last, reborn Annie savoured the comparative pleasures of life in the England of autumn 1999. Even doing the laundry seemed a blissful relaxation after the rigours of her entombment in her tiny cell of correction at the remedial House of Harmony. With one of those furtive hard-to suppress flashbacks of memory she recalled the days long ago when washing machine manufacturers had even exhorted customers to "Keep whites and coloureds separate!" This gruesome recollection caused her immediately and dutifully to shudder with repugnance at such an awful suggestion of racism. Thankfully Ministry of Harmony research since then had resulted in the discovery of detergents which not only allowed but throve on mixing, an accomplishment hailed as enormously symbolic and immensely salutary.

CHAPTER 2 Annie's Telly Training

     THE television – all of the television, all of the programmes, all of the time – now seemed to Annie tremendously absorbing and exhilarating after half a year in the company of only the hourly catechism, though previously she had only been an occasional viewer, preferring old-fashioned pastimes such as reading. Now she enthusiastically watched every episode of Harmony Highway which years ago had replaced antiquated Coronation Street. Now she never missed watching Meet the Singhs, another most compelling integration series. Washington Williams, the super-cop from Trinidad who long ago had ousted Sherlock Holmes, had her full attention every Tuesday evening at eight, while every morning at eight she derived intense uplift from Towards One World with its focus on global fusion in all its many enticing aspects.

     She became completely engrossed in Empire of Evil, the 50-part chronicle of England's vicious domination and exploitation of the colonial peoples. She was absolutely captivated by Beginnings of Democracy, a series showing that Ancient Africa taught Ancient Greece everything it came to know and possess. She was tremendously impressed to learn from He Made Motoring Possible of the Zulu chief Wangwacko who invented the internal combustion engine, but whose blueprints – plans of genius engraved on tablets of stone for durability – were stolen from him and copied by wicked Whites entirely lacking his colossal talent.

     She could not tear herself away from the Cosmocuisine programme with its array of far away dishes to displace stodgy English cooking. She even rather overdid things one day with her ardent efforts to reproduce "Calcutta Cosmo-curry". A visit from the fire brigade was required to deal with the conflagration in the kitchen after she had evidently made things a bit too hot. The intensity of the aroma dispensed down Primrose Street in consequence of the event was really quite remarkable, drawing crowds of appreciative Indians from areas even north of the Thames. The phenomenon even rated a mention in the meteorological bulletin that evening as resembling a ground haze in the capital of a somewhat unusual nature.

     Eliminating Bias, a course of self-correction which she perceived and welcomed as a continuation of her therapeutic treatment at the House of Harmony, so took hold of her that in her rapt concentration on expelling from her mind all harmful thoughts she succeeded on one occasion in expelling all thoughts of any kind. This accomplishment whereby her mind was reduced to a complete blank in a state of suspended animation for some ten minutes was rewarded with an acute headache for some ten hours, after which she wisely concluded that she had to take the mental exercise somewhat less vigorously, though no less enthusiastically.      This was to her no cause for delay in sending for, immediately the programme advertised it, a "dream monitor". This was a device which recorded the exact nature of any lapses of the brain into archaic thoughts during slumber. The subject was thus enabled to follow when awake a purposeful procedure for the elimination of such hoary relics from the subconscious.

     Watching the television screen for hour upon hour each and every day – something strongly encouraged by the Ministry of Harmony as the habit of a good citizen anxious to acquire good thoughts – Annie's brain was drawn moth-like to, absorbed by and purposefully irradiated by its luminance, which invaded, pervaded and fully possessed it, supplying her ideas, causing her responses, rendering her whole mind a mere reflection of the glittering brilliance of its domination. While continuing to believe that she remained the arbiter, switching on and switching off receptivity at will, Annie, as with the multi-millions of other slaves of the silver screen, had reached the state not of controlling the electronic brain box occupying the place of honour in every home, but of being effectively controlled by it, or rather by the masters of the box who beamed their controlling influences into every captive brain in every viewer's dwelling.

     Outwardly, television as with the other and lesser media was cleverly and carefully made to appear as a wide range of free expression, uninfluenced by government, which left people free to form their own opinions. In actual fact all of it was secretly and ultimately controlled by the ruling consortium of forces and interests, Jewish or allied, then in power and represented by the Ministry of Harmony. Television was used to supreme advantage as the supreme instrument of control of the public, not merely in the older manner of selective presentation of material coupled with the selective omission of material to achieve the desired effect, but also in the newer and far more potent manner of continual transmissions of subliminal material amid all programmes on all channels. This meant that nowadays flashing forth with a rapidity below the threshold of consciousness, and thus registering an effect without being perceived to do so, were continual messages of command such as "We want oneness!", "Black is beautiful!" and "The Ministry knows best!".

     The Minister of Harmony was a shadowy figure who had adopted the stage name of "Jonathan Bull" to benefit from this anodyne of Englishness in place of his rightful patronymic derived from his ancestors' long-standing domicile in the Hebrew quarter of Lodz. He was the real head of government, the nominal Prime Minister being only a photogenic puppet selected by the former for his soothing demeanour, and made to appear the virtually unanimous choice of an appreciative nation by the simple means of the appropriate subliminal transmissions.

     The high lord of Harmony had marked the occasion, a while earlier, of the introduction of constant instead of experimental transmissions of subliminal messages on television with a confidential speech of celebration to a closed meeting of his inner subordinates specially sworn to secrecy. In it he had announced that, with television now at the centre of every home and the focal point of every life, today's magic lantern provided the means of complete control of the public mind. It ensured that automatically and contentedly people supported who and what the Ministry put into their heads, joyful in the illusion that they made up their own minds whereas the Ministry performed that service for them.

     "Control", said the Minister of Harmony in his peroration, glistening with self-satisfaction, "is never more successful – as being never more complete and permanent and trouble-free – than when it is exerted seemingly in its absence behind a facade of freedom of choice. This", he concluded with fitting emphasis "is the final fruition of Democracy, and on the threshold of the 21st Century we can congratulate ourselves on having achieved this."

     What the Minister did not speak of, not needing to articulate it for the initiates, was the fact that it was in no way necessary to have the slightest belief in any part of the pap fed to the public other than in its efficacy to produce a desired state of mind leading to a desired response to the benefit of the holders of power. The whole object of the exercise in human management by means of that confidence trickery on the grand scale known as Democracy was power, gainful power. Multiracial mixture and human equality were to be propagated as ideals simply and solely because of the supreme advantage to the holders of power of a docile, pride-less, mongrelized human herd.

     It was with this secret purpose fully understood that the Ministry's controllers of programmes pursued "adjustment" and "familiarization to rectify racial prejudice and achieve racial integration as imperative considerations far exceeding in importance any thought of historical accuracy or any other intrusion of objective truth. Thus when the legions of Julius Caesar were portrayed it was obligatory for those legions to be at least 50 per cent Coloured. Similarly, the Battle of Trafalgar had to be portrayed with ships, half of every crew of which were Black. Nelson himself by a generous concession was allowed to remain half White as a victorious mulatto exemplifying the prowess of the hybrid. All such enterprising alteration was justified, the official argument ran, because things would have been like that if rank racism had not prevailed, so that it was only right and proper that by "adjustment" they should be shown as they ought to have been instead of as they happened to have been.

     The old type of Western disappeared in the same good cause of "familiarization" being replaced by a much improved version in which Coloureds provided all the 'goodies' and Whites all the 'baddies'. The tales of Tarzan were likewise sanitized. Instead of jungle savages, the natives appeared as noble founders of civilization communing philosophically in a conservationist's paradise, championed in their defence against marauding Whites by an ebony Adonis and his beautiful black mate Tarzana.

     Robin Hood became a persecuted Pakistani seeking refuge in Sherwood Forest along with a band of other Coloured immigrants described and hounded as "illegal" entrants by a medieval racist regime. Friar Tuck was turned into Rabbi Tuck, a jovial itinerant teacher of the Talmud. The Sheriff of Nottingham was revealed to be a sadistic member of a forerunner of the racist Ku Klux Klan.