Yankification Is Poisoning British Culture

It’s been a tough week, y’all, as the Yankification of our country continues apace. There is, it turns out, no domestic tragedy nor domestic celebration that our geopolitical frenemy won’t grip to its necrotic red, white and blue bosom. D-Day, gay pride and even the appalling failures of our police to protect the lives of the innocent are all up for Americanisation. 

The yeehaw is unsubtle, as with so much transatlantic. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t cutting through. Which raises the question: how do I avoid becoming a Yanker during America, Season Infinity: Episode Imperial CollapseTM? Top tips below.

‘Erb or herb? Water or wadder? Anti-abortion or women having autonomy over their bodies and reproductive futures? If you’re asking these questions, I may have a diagnosis, and, sorry, it’s terminal. 

Yankification is a disease with many symptoms. It is, as we fully-qualified medical doctors call it in the trade, systemic. Signs may include going bankrupt to pay us, not only for the diagnosis but also for the opioids we got you addicted to. But don’t you feel good?

A side effect of our treatment payment plan is that you may develop a desire to allegedly execute a healthcare CEO on the streets of a major city. Don’t worry – the US has that covered too. Buy a gun. Here, take two, one a semiautomatic. Handy if there’s a school you don’t like. 

Speaking of not liking. Immigrants, yo! Rack ‘em up, stack ‘em up, ship ‘em out – even if they’re all alone and only six. 

This is the message, the attitude, the vibe increasingly imported to these shores. And somehow Brits, famously sceptical about the big Yankfest across the Atlantic, are suddenly lapping it up. There are volumes to be written on how this came to be. Yet here we are.  

It turns out the vice-president of the USA has some thoughts on a horrific killing that took place thousands of miles away from his Washington digs. On the murder of Southampton student Henry Nowak, JD Vance went full Hollywood. 

“Henry Nowak died the same way a civilization dies,” he wrote on X, “Abandoned, handcuffed by authorities who neither trusted nor cared for him, and accused of hate crimes he did not commit.” 

What in the ChatGPT? When Nowak’s parents asked for their teenage son’s pointless and vile murder not to be politicised, I doubt they ever imagined the second-in-command of Yankulvania would go full Dracula. It’s hard to imagine anything more parasitic than a distant captain-underbite daring to feed on our recently dead, all to score global points at the expense of the cosmic pain of Nowak’s mum and dad. And also of us.

There is no British person, seeing the tape of Henry Nowak being so sinfully neglected by the force meant to protect him, who isn’t outraged. Also none sickened to purest bile by the sight of his murderer pointing to a bruiseless eye and falsely claiming himself the victim of a racist attack.

But our sorrow, and our internal working out of how and why this happened, on whose watch and under whose guard this could occur, is ours. 

Also ours is also the complete rejection of the absolute impertinence of some mechanical Yank outsider daring to intervene in our complex pain. 

Not so for Reform UK, whose millionaire leader trumpeted Trumpian chaos on the death of an almost child. Brushing aside the words of the parents of a dead boy, Nigel Farage told his followers “we should respond to this with pure cold rage”. So they did in Southampton last week. At present, 14 have been arrested for their part in the embarrassing scenes that saw bins, bottles and bricks thrown at police officers, while Southampton locals, already traumatised by the killing on their streets, watched their neighbourhood be torn apart.

You know what? We all need to touch a bit of British grass. This Americana melodrama is going nowhere fast. And we don’t need to go there with it. Why would we anyway? We’re talking about a cucked country trying to wriggle out of a war it’s already lost, one that can’t even keep Israel in check, an ally it funds to the tune of annual billions. 

I promised top tips to avoid the Yankfest. It’s not that hard. Above all, be a Brit. Have a bit of pride, an ounce of sense, a regard for dignity. Keep it cricket, if you like, even when you’re forced to watch (checks notes) a HALF-TIME SHOW this World Cup final. And above all, never let them turn you into a little Yanker.