Oh, what a sorry spectacle of servility and deceit, comrades! Gather
round the flickering hearth of British diplomacy, where Keir Starmer’s
government has been caught with its trousers round its ankles, lying
through its pearly whites to our closest ally – the good old USA – on
not one, but two fronts that reek of incompetence, appeasement, and a
craven kowtow to foes. First, the Chagos Islands handover, that
geopolitical giveaway masquerading as decolonial virtue. Second, the
proximity of those oh-so-sensitive fibre optic cables to Beijing’s
proposed “super embassy” in London. This isn’t statecraft; it’s a farce
scripted by amateurs, directed by ideologues, and performed with the
sincerity of a used-car salesman flogging a lemon.
Let’s start with Chagos, that archipelago jewel in the Indian Ocean
where the US-UK base at Diego Garcia has been our bulwark against all
manner of global nasties since the Cold War. Last year, Starmer’s lot
inked a deal to hand sovereignty back to Mauritius – an “historic
agreement,” they trumpeted, securing the base for 99 years while ticking
the virtue-signalling box. Except, as Donald Trump himself bellowed
this month, it’s an “act of great stupidity.” The leaks and briefings
now tumbling out reveal the UK assured the Yanks it was all watertight:
no risks to the base, Mauritius a reliable partner, Chinese influence
negligible. Bollocks. Mauritius is cosying up to Beijing faster than you
can say “Belt and Road,” with ports and partnerships that scream
vulnerability. Nigel Farage called it the worst deal in British history,
and he’s spot on – we lied to the Americans about the security
implications, downplaying Chinese encroachment to ram through a woke
agenda. Trump’s team backed it initially, but now they’re spitting
feathers, forcing delays in parliamentary ratification. Starmer’s crew
misled Uncle Sam to avoid a veto, and now the whole edifice wobbles like
a Jenga tower in a gale.
But wait, there’s more! Enter the Chinese “super embassy” saga, that
bloated behemoth planned for Royal Mint Court, slap bang in London’s
heart, where unredacted blueprints reveal a secret underground complex
mere metres – nay, one sodding metre – from fibre optic cables ferrying
the City’s most sensitive financial data. Emails, trades, the digital
lifeblood of billions – all potentially tappable by Beijing’s basement
boffins. The government swore blind to the US: “No sensitive data here,
guv – nothing to see, move along.” Reassurances flew across the
Atlantic, insisting no government intel zips through those lines. Except
the Telegraph’s exposé blows that apart: those cables carry vast
swathes of critical comms, linking Canary Wharf to the world, ripe for
espionage. Starmer’s mob knew the proximity risks – security services
flagged it – yet they greenlit the project anyway, lying to allies about
the dangers to ram through a deal that stinks of economic masochism.
Why? To appease Xi Jinping’s expansionist appetites while pretending
it’s just “diplomatic reciprocity.” It’s not reciprocity; it’s rolling
out the red carpet for red spies.
This duo of deceptions isn’t coincidence; it’s a pattern. A
government so desperate to virtue-signal on decolonisation and kowtow to
China that it’ll fib to its oldest friend, risking alliances forged in
blood. Starmer lectures us on integrity, yet his Foreign Office
fabricates fairy tales to Washington. Where’s the accountability? No
heads roll, no inquiries launch – just more mealy-mouthed guff about
“robust safeguards.” Robust? My arse. This is treachery with a tie,
betrayal wrapped in a briefing note.
So what now, as January’s chill bites and the headlines swirl? Demand
the truth, you lot. Bombard your MP, flood the select committees, make
these lies impossible to bury. Because if Starmer’s gang can lie to the
Yanks on bases and cables, what won’t they fib about next? Our security?
Our sovereignty? God help us.
Yours in perpetual fury,
Ken Palarse
P.S. If this has you raging hotter than a midwinter fuel cut, share
it far and wide. Every retweet keeps the liars on their toes.
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