Wild In The Streets

I heard myself scream as a bottle skimmed Zach’s head, missing him by millimetres, glass smashing around his feet — later I found shards in his shoes. Then I did something I never thought I’d do: I ran, clutching my terrified children. In my panic, I lost control of the pram which swerved precariously and almost overturned twice.

Our cakes spilled out over the pavement. It was the wrong thing to do, of course. I’d drawn attention to my fleeing family, and a splinter group gave chase after us, calling out ‘get the whities’.  Seeing this terrifying drama unfold before them, passers-by and locals sped up steps, pounded on front doors or sought protection in porches. 

We reached our home and I released my screaming baby from his pram, which I left abandoned with our bags outside, and practically threw my boys inside the front door, locking it behind us — my legs had turned to jelly and breathlessness and searing chest pain convinced me I was having a heart attack.

Witness the reality of unchecked third world immigration on the people of what used to be known as Great Britain.

This may be our future as well,if it isn’t too late already.

As a side note,it really is a good thing that this poor mother had been disarmed by her government and rendered defenseless to those street “youths”,otherwise one or more of those “youths” might have really been hurt.

Story here.

I’m sure everything will work out fine…


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