The War on Geola

12xii07

Yes, it's that time of year again. No sooner does an important traditional religious holiday roll
around than the PC-brigade feel the need to strip-mine it of its original significance, just so's no-
one's feeling get upset. Fuck that.

For many years now, it's become unfashionable to talk of Geola, as Muslims, atheists, and
Christians have all attacked our traditional holiday. It is the Christians who have the most gall of
all, daring to attach the name of some first-century Palestinian to a once-proud British festival.
'Yule' is can live with, despite its being a continental bastardisation of our British pronunciation
'Geola'.

It's important that we remember that Geola isn't just about family and friendship, it is also about the
ritual human sacrifice of male slaves, once every nine years. When was the last time any of our
loony local councils allowed this traditional practice? Once again the feminazis and Health and
Safety Ceaucescus have stamped their grubby little Christian boots over our heritage.

Just think of what we have lost because of our spineless governing elites. Where once we swore
fealty on the back of our best boar, loud enough for the god Freyr to hear, before slaughtering it and
spending 12 days eating its carcass; now we have dried-up turkey and Iceland breaded prawns.

What is perhaps most disturbing is the way in which the Christian brigade have felt free to take the
bits of our festival they liked (the decorated tree, the holly, the mistletoe, the Yule log, gammon),
and pretend that our holiday has nothing to do with our traditional celebrations of the death of
winter. They even crow about it!

When Pope Gregory wrote to St Mellitus as he came to convert the Britons, he instructed him not to
change too many of the details of our festivities, but just the god they were worshipping. Such
blatant contempt for our pagan heritage is, quite frankly, frightening, and yet another example of
what happens when you let immigrants from the EU roam willy-nilly, preaching their message of
hate.

The fact that our once proud Joulenpukki, who came to distribute presents to good children and
devour the bones of bad ones has been forced in many government depictions to take off his robe of
rotting goat hides and wear instead a red coat is surely shame enough. Now, his belly shakes when
he laughs like a bowl full of jelly, rather than rattling with the femurs of naughty children. Will we
never learn?