In which we have lived in the UK for five years but aren’t sure if we can call this home anymore.

Becoming a British Bastard

745 words about life — 08:00 · 14th May 2017

Five years.

Today, on the the day, it’s been five years since we packed a bag each and moved to UK.

Back then we had dreams of applying to naturalise as British citizens.

To become British bastards.

In an endearing way.

But then Brexit happened. And now we’re not so sure anymore.

In the blink of an eye the country we considered our home became hostile and xenophobic.


But enough people to make us, and every single immigrant I’ve spoken to, feel uneasy. Unwelcomed.

Despite the fact that EU immigrants take out less benefits and pay more taxes.

EU migrants pay £1.34 in taxes for every £1 they receive in state assistance British Influence, 18 February 2016

Despite the fact that the UK is one of the developed countries that relies most on importing doctors trained abroad.

10% of doctors and 4% of nurses in the NHS are immigrants.

Miracle of St George and the Dragon, with Scenes from his Life.
St George, a proper Brit, innit?

I used to say that the quintessentially British thing to be, was to not be British.

Technically I’m conflating English with British but the slogan for Brexit was, “Make Britain great again,” so you can just lie in the bed you made. Assholes.

To be British, is to be a bastard of someone or other.

The patron saint of England St George himself, was of Greek origin.

I rest my case.

And whilst Cambridge voted to REMAIN, as did other places like London and Edinburgh, it wasn’t enough to stop fear-mongers like Nigel Farrage from getting their misguided wills through.

And now Theresa May has demanded a Snap General Election on 8 June to secure Brexit mandate.

We need a general election and we need one now because we have at this moment a one-off chance to get this done while the European Union agrees its negotiating position and before the detailed talks begin. Teresa May, as reported by the Guardian

She, and the conservative party she represents, doesn’t have your, our my, best interest at heart. She has the interest of the 1% at heart.

She’s refusing to rule out the privatisation of the NHS.

She’s going to fuck this country more than it already is.

Before moving here, we decided to teach English to Lucien as his first language. Coming from a Swedish-speaking minority in Finland, a minority that’s often met with hostility and resentment, it was important that he would have a place to call home.

A place that felt like home.

Back in Finland, I’ve been physically assaulted on more than one occasion for simply speaking Swedish in public.

But in the wake of Brexit, I don’t know if this is home anymore.

I don’t know if Lucien has a place to call home anymore.

Now I don’t agree with everything Jeremy Corbyn stands for but as far oppositions go, he’s our best bet of turning the tide and restoring this country to—not its former glory but instead—its future glory.

This is what he had to say on the privatisation of the NHS.

I want to ensure it’s completely publicly run and publicly accountable. Jeremy Corbyn, as reported by the Telegraph

But we haven’t applied to naturalise as British citizens.

Until today, we haven’t even been eligible to start the lengthy and expensive process.

In this uncertain future that will affect us, as much is it will affect you, we don’t get to have a say.

We don’t have a vote.

We don’t have a voice.

Lucien doesn’t have a voice.

But you do.

To vote in the General Election on 8 June, you need to register by 11:59pm on 22 May.

Please register to vote.

You have a voice. Make it heard.

You’ve just read Becoming a British Bastard.

In which, 4 years ago, I wrote 745 words about life and I covered topics, such as: england, immigration, and anniversaries.