So the Limeys think they want ANOTHER damned rematch, do they?

Video: UK Cops Threaten to Extradite and Jail Americans for Online Speech
Elon Musk is among the American citizens who could be targeted for censorship and legal retaliation by open-borders cops in the UK.

Chief Mark Rowley of Greater London’s Metropolitan Police Service threatened to charge and jail American citizens who post online from their own country in support of UK demonstrations against mass third-world migration and the years of violent crime that have come along with it.

Police in the UK have arrested and charged hundreds of native-born citizens thus far with a litany of speech-related crimes, with some of them being tried, convicted, and sentenced to years in prison, in just a matter of days. While promising more arrests, Rowley set his sights on American citizens and others who’ve shown support for the protest movement, which comes in direct response to the triple murder of three children by an African living on British soil.

“We will throw the full force of the law at people,” Rowley told reporters at a press conference. “And whether you’re in this country committing crimes on the streets, or committing crimes from further afield online, we will come after you.”

I’ll just let Bill handle that bit of light work for me.

Dickhead Dictator from Shithole Country Threatens Americans
Listen carefully, you pisspot loudmouth. As an American citizen I voice my full, wholehearted support for the brave British patriotic resisters opposing your communist attempts to destroy them and their nation, and I devoutly hope that you and those like you in your white-hating racist dictatorship are soon dragged off to meet the same end the aristocrats of France suffered during the French Revolution.

Our forefathers who created the United States of America showed us how to deal with the likes of you, when you tried to enforce your filthy, tyrannical laws on them in their own land. They killed you and your hired mercenaries where you stood. Our state of Texas alone has more heavily armed men and women than your entire nation. If you wish to meet the same fate, feel free to put your feet on American soil and try to oppress Americans in the same way you do your slaves at home. Do that, and I can promise you that you will never oppress anyone ever again.

Seconded, word for fucking word, one hundred and ten fucking percent, with all my heart and fucking soul, right down the fucking line, with fucking whipped cream on fucking top. Mr Rowley, sir (spelled with a C and a U, please note), you just feel free to come get my insolent Yankee Doodle Dandy ass any time you feel froggy enough, you light-in-the-loafers, Muzzy-scrote-lapping Britweasel poofter. As Dashiell Hammett’s unforgettable Continental Op character once cautioned, with a rueful shake of the head: Better get help.*

Since I brought it up and all, I can’t resist re-running the likewise-brilliant Raymond Chandler’s ebullient praise of his forebear Hammett one mo’ time again, culled from Chandler’s seminal collection of essays analyzing and explicating the detective noir oeuvre, “The Simple Art of Murder.”

Hammett gave murder back to the kind of people that commit it for reasons, not just to provide a corpse; and with the means at hand, not with hand-wrought dueling pistols, curare, and tropical fish…He is said to have lacked heart, yet the story he thought most of himself [The Glass Key] is the record of a man’s devotion to a friend. He was spare, frugal, hard-boiled, but he did over and over again what only the best writers can ever do at all. He wrote scenes that seemed never to have been written before.

Precisely so, sir. Of course, the same can be said of Mr Chandler as well. To their everlasting glory, these two titans of ‘Murkin fiction elevated a genre that had, until their advent, been snootily derogated as vulgar tabloid trash to the lofty summit of bona fide High Art™ status, sheepish and conflicted as they themselves sometimes seemed to feel about such exaltation. Myself, I’ve always found it surpassing strange that any serious, fair minded, bookish-type personage could come away from a careful exploration of their work with any other conclusion.

Subject matter be damned: the writing itself is unfailingly taut, spare, impactful, riveting. Their words float like a butterfly, sting like a gargantuan bee, hit like a George Foreman tooth-loosener right in the puss. This is writing that will knock you out; pick you up off the canvas; help you to your corner; and then come back at you swinging—again and again and again. And God help you, you will LOVE it. That’s how strong this stuff is. It’s downright addictive, that’s what.

Of course and as always, YMMV on all this. But in all honesty, it shouldn’t, it really, really shouldn’t. If it does, you’re more to be pitied than censured, that’s my view.

To sum up, then: FUCK Mark Rowley; FUCK the British government; FUCK the turncoat Brit coppers who are willing to arrest their own fellow Britishers for defending themselves and their families against a Mooselimb immivader horde inflicted on them by said government; and FUCK any and every sucker of dead donkey dick in our own shitheel goobermint who would dare to even dream of assisting Mr Rowley with his threatened “extradition” of Real Americans to his Moslem-conquered shitrapy.

I repeat: anytime you’re feeling froggy enough, ass-chancre. Let’s just see how that works out for ya in the end.

* Alas, the Op’s perfect riposte isn’t actually findable at the link, which only provides the barest bit of context; I couldn’t find the quote posted anywhere, but I knew it was from Red Harvest—one of Hammett’s finest, most fully-realized efforts (which is truly saying something), a book I’ve read and re-read who even knows how many times over lo, these many years—so I was forced to make do with whatever I could lay my hands on in the way of a supporting link. The Op’s characteristically blunt and concisely-put advice/threat/promise was issued in response to Head Poisonville Bad Guy Elihu Wilsson (ironically enough, the very malefactor who hired the Op to “clean up Personville” in the first place) ordering his manservant to throw the Op out of his palatial mansion bodily; the butler was extremely dubious about his ability to do so, which wise dubiety the Op reinforced via the above quip.

PARTHIAN SHOT! If you think yourself a fan of the detective noir genre but have somehow (incomprehensibly, inexplicably, inexcusably) missed out on Red Harvest, The Dain Curse, The Glass Key, or any other stories from Hammett’s Continental Op canon—not to even mention non-Op essentials such as The Thin Man and The Maltese Falcon—why good LORD man, what on earth are you WAITING for, prithee tell?

Update! Via Glenn.

Again: seconded, with all my heart and soul. I mean, seriously now: from “Rule Britannia,” the Miracle of Dunkirk, the London Blitz, Fairbairn and Sykes, the SBS/SAS, Sandhurst, to…to…to this contemptible, sorry spectacle of supine self-beclownment? From Churchill to Thatcher to…Starmer? From stiff upper lip to bending the knee? From colonizer to colonized? From rugby ruffians and soccer hooligans to Manwoman dick-choppers? From globe-spanning Empire to beggar-boy socialism to Moslem-majority laughingstock in only a few generations?!? Keee-RIST!!

So, so sad. One can’t help but be a little bit embarrassed for the pusillanimous pantywaists. A very, very little bit.

Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover Oliver Cromwell again.