Youth Resergent


It is morning, mist vaguely settles over the wretched, sad streets, thousands hurry from train and bus to merge with other thousands moving forward on foot. Buses packed with worried humanity, jolt over London Bridge, pause in a traffic jam, and onward again.

Every morning hundreds of thousands of hurrying feet have crossed this bridge, every morning hundreds of thousands of anxious eyes have surveyed watches hurriedly as the minutes go by, this is the heritage of Britain’s youth.

Over the seas lie the golden lands, the lands of sun, health, vigour and plenty, the lands of loneliness that could be turned into the domains of laughter and children’s voices. Here lies the pounding Metropolis, the overcrowded inner city, the smug depressing suburban home. Here are the slow wasting of pasty faces and dulled hearts, the stale sad Sunday of the Autumn months.

Hope, opportunity, vigour, substituted under the slow grinding process of financial sham democracy for despair, stalemate and inertia.

Young England today aspires to possess the spirit of the Young England of Drake and Hawkins, not the creed of Cameroon, Smegg and Millibore! England at last awakens to the call of adventure, to the call of that youth that followed a drum to Panama and raised a beacon on Quebec Heights.

Young England that was quite content to sink into lethargy, the prey to smugness and staleness. Now when the trumpets of British Fascism have sounded that there is a movement who dares call its youth, it rises to claim the great heritage of its forefathers to take within clean hands the fruits of that heritage.

Sham democracy is aware that the hour of reckoning will soon be here, and when that reckoning does come, the political class will have to answer for the greatest sin, depriving the youth of the greatest nation in the world of the right of happiness, leisure and vigour.

Young British Fascists, you are the carriers of the torch. When the others finish their race let us hold that torch high, carry it until the last frontiers are in sight, and when the Day comes who shall say “You are unworthy!”

NBU Youth