Iz taken it personally..Open letter to a prince

Dear Harry,
Well boy, how does it feel to be "one of the lads". I wasn't one as a kid I was invariably a target of the mindless insensitive gobshite that you are getting famous for. You are an utter disgrace. It iz bad enough having the news of your family shoved in our faces , the good news iz bad enough. You , Mister are a living incitement to treason.
My late father did six years with the Duke of Wellington's Regiment. He stood alone. He learned to bear the scummy "jokes" you enjoy sharing with your "friends".
There is little in the way of visible record of what happened to my father,the only brown man in the regiment at the time. His determination not to quietly tolerate racsist attitudes got him used as a punchbag for "a bit of sport".A featherweight boxer ordered to spar with heavyweights , He was fast but when they hit him it was like a cannon.He was officially classed as a good soldier,and a first class shot, his "admin " as you like to call it now was, always A1.Served in Cyprus and Belfast.I was an army kid .Invariably living in married quarters,with my German mother,waiting for him to return from overseas. We didn't really identify ourselves as any colour race or creed at home. I wasn't aware that was what other folk did till I was six and a half years old.
The phrase "Black Nazi Bastard "drifted by my ears. I asked my Dad what all that was about, he said,"They are talking about you son." We were living in Armthorpe Doncaster then,he was doing his training with the NCB. He had been dishonourably discharged from the army. The "why"of it being the result of him reacting to a racsist "joke", targetting him, attempting to humiliate him whilst on parade. The whole body of men sycophantically,as a man , laughed at the officers "joke". My father stepped out of ranks and right crossed the offending officer who dutifully hit the ground.
He couldnt take it any more. There was no support.
You are a low life prince. I'll continue.
What with the boxing , and getting smashed up from falling down a mountain in Cyprus, and the interminable "private" fights he had to endure whilst serving. There was no choice of backing down, No Body Guards, you darling sweet faced little rat.
My family got one broken brain damaged man back . The most unhappy man I have ever met.
He was born in Lucknow, his mother was a matron in a hospital .Went to the same school as Sir Cliff's Dad, that man can't even admit to his roots. My lot I guess are the small change that the moribund dynasty tried to leave behind in India.
A mix of Bengali and English , called "Sewers"by the dominant moronity, "What's up can't you take a joke?"
You are no further forward than the "tolerant"pre war liberalism that dare not now speak its name. A chamberlainian throwback, that would have kissed Hitlers arse rather than defend the higher principle. Me Mam wasn't a Nazi. her first husband was a Jew who had miraculously managed to both evade the pogroms,and the bombing of Hambourg, but on marrying my mother,coming out of the closet after the war was persecuted by family and "friends". His guard was down too early, his heart couldn't take the strain, he died . the marriage only lasted one year.I dare say they only meant it as a "bit of fun".
We've taken a fair old bit of stick in our family you Dork. From the normalised role models you apparently wish to emulate. Take your larrupping "like a man", I am not writing this for fun nor sport, I live in exile from the consensus psychosis that is becoming endemic in Britain today, P.C.xenophobia, mister. You have got the disease, no use denying the shit stains on both sides of your reversable underpants are your own "bad administration".You have pissed me off one too many times. You are no ones "friend",by conduct seen. Inciting hatred ,youth, from a position of relative safety is pure cowardice. Perhaps it helps you to feel like you fit in with the lads in the barracks. Camouflaging your priveleged background, by licking the spit off the hand of common prejudice is hardly manly. Does your birth cert call you a 'male' or a 'boy'.
Mine says boy , implying that I would Naturally be a man when I grew up. Your desperate attempt to appear Manly"like" a man if you can interpret my language correctly, suggests that your unnatural background left you feeling like you were a penny short of the full bob. I was born by design naturally and privately for fear of the
well meaning clipboarders of my day taking the baby away,for use and abuse by the state...They didn't like even the idea of mixing in those days, those congenitally deficient servants of the national program.I was born in my Granny's house. She had been demoted to sister from matron,to work in a hospital in Leeds.A brown woman she, dedicated to humanitarian service. Both her sisters Katie and Grace stayed behind in Pakistan,after partition,to help care for some of the damage your ill conceived lineage caused, they living out their lives as matrons,in Lahore. Sainted spinsters both.
My late father,only ever spoke English, beaten in the boarding school if he spoke any native languages. Seven generations of mixing in India, after being pressed into foreign service, he was encouraged to call himself an anglican,"or else". Taught to call the Blighted Isle home,as did the preceding generations before him, all my family were patriotic to principle over whatever the shit stained bloodsoaked flag of convenience was called upon to defend. Some of us will not let our personal standard fall. The risk to person is not to be underestimated. Dad only ever had a British passport, He was found a "suspected "suicide, hanging by a piece of washing line in a state run "sheltered residential care home ""at seventyfour.
Those days are never over prince, Lest We Forget. One must learn to reason that there is no such thing as history, You shame whatever residual good is left in your family.
Taking the royal wee won't pass muster with me.Vigilance starts at home, the Nelsonian view will not do. your lack of personal discipline,(moral administration), given your elevated background renders you unfit to be a soldier. Conduct Unbecoming a man by the natural definition. I don't believe your little "sorry", You will do it again , in public and in private. Many believe you are just doing your time for a bit of jingoistic excitment. For the Glory sunshine, I am sure your mam would be proud. Wanna be normal ? Give up all privelege and protection and run the gauntlet of Shit street U.K. plc.,like the rest of the fearful residents. Join the people on the ground at home.You are not worthy.
Just to inform you, someone has to,of some of the dangers, Greek, German or Brit.
In Greece I was drowned in the sea by neo fascists at the time of the junta,on Paradise Beach Mikanos, an unprovoked attack, they dragged my body onto the sand and used it as a football. Kicking the water out of my body I came round,and managed to chase them away.In the back streets of the Euston area of London I was iron barred by a gang of national front supporters, they took turns at hitting me with the lantern hook, a four foot long rod, half my body was paralysed. My vision was as though torn in two with a black gap in the middle, they too ran away when they discovered I was prepared to keep going,having pulled myself up with my one good arm and my one good leg, leaning blood splattered against the wall. In Germany I was hospitalised by a group of Bahnhoff Polizei, handcuffed to a bed for three days till I was well enough to leave without evidence. Incidently, in Euston I got myself to the hospital concussed and without feeling in my left side, the police had a laugh and didn't pursue the matter, I guess they wanted an early night, We mustn't work them too hard must we .
I was younger then. I don't mend so well now. You called your "friend","Paki" mister .
Just what are we expected to call you? After all your cosseted upbringing,it beggars any civilised definition.
I have been called paki on a number of occassions ,too many, I stand my ground on my hind legs and don't kow tow. My otherness has caused me to endure much worse , I don't swallow any one elses spit but my own,naturally.I doubt that you could manfully hack it out here young un, not without a protective entourage a flak jacket and a kevlar hat.Say you could and I will call you a bloody liar until you have survived a week of my personal hospitality. Come alone and come in peace.
Allow me to personally fill you in on what is really going down in Britain, Nowhere near as nice as the disgusting things they publish in the media.More insidiously life threatening to asians and eurasians specifically, than any naughty name calling.
I am an independant intel. gatherer. My Dad brought me up in the seven years after the army, as a single parent, my mum coudn't take the combination of racsism and the dramatic change in my dad's personality. Periods of violent "punchy psychosis" caused by abuse in the army, became more frequent. I had to act as carer in the home , cooking and cleaning,for a macho drinking man trying to fit into a morally backward social environment. I put myself in care at fourteen.What was worthy is still treasured as a memory with respect.
He taught me about the "empires" of the world truthfully, The cause of war. The"Irish problem", The truth behind the establishment of what was then called the White commonwealth.Taught me about biology, Genetics ,petit prince. About your family.
Taught me with his fist and his belt the way he was expected to learn from the prosthelytising dominant teachers in his boarding school. He taught me to take him breaking oak batons on my legs and back bravely, Lest I Forget, I don't.
He also taught me with great pride about Ghandi Ji, MartinLuther King and Thomas Paine, And the real struggle against all odds of the undefended unsung deprived collateral base that your arrogant movement has abused for centuriesdirectly and by proxy. About the merchant slavers the planters and carpetbagging profiteers,the pirates and the child abusing missionaries.
He taught me to hold my fire as a non combatant. I could never be a suicide, He taught me to reserve my"Last Man" The Soldier In extremis, should there be cause to defend life and rights where it makes the most sense, at home.
The dogs have taken over U.K. now. You have forgotten what sacrifices were made in the name of your flag.A whole new generation of "worker population will have to bear the brunt of as yet unreconstructed attitudes.
So mister soldier boy wanna show the world how sorry you are, accept this my formal invitation to help clean out the faceless Little Enlander attitudes by first allowing me to transfer the burden of what is verefiably true my intelligence cost a lot to gather . I am permanently damaged now, You may bring one "friend" I nominate Oliver Tickell of Meadow Lane, Oxford. Son of Sir 25th of October ,Harry.
I will write again ,to you and about you as well as the corruption of my former homeland. I love my country , I am a refugee by the definition of the Geneva Convention, I want to live at least long enough to see the improvement with my own eyes, not just the piss and wind we have had to put up with so far..
Feel free to pick up my gauntlet with all the enthusiasm a volunteer soldier in Her Majesty's Armed Forces can courageously muster.
We have a washing machine if your laundry needs administrating.
A small P.S . Oliver, take this call to duty seriously, your friend, Iznibz Wazir.