There is nothing romantically tragic about the decline and diminishing of England. Not without laughing could one paint of it a picture of a few far-off figures dwindling into a hinterground of honourable retirement — there to die out rather than be compromised. No, the reality is an ugly daub filled with people out shopping, or pontificating about how we should “celebrate” its “vibrant diversity”. The decline is their ascent.
England does not deserve pride. It has gone to the dogs, and that may be an insult to dogs. If England is to restore its sense of pride, it needs to start with its sense of shame. And the first thing it should be ashamed of is the pathetic excuse for a government that afflicts it at present, and will afflict it for the indefinite future until something drastic is done. 
I am in two minds these days: I feel, on the one hand, that it is no longer my homeland and is beyond redemption anyway, the English having become some of the boldest and most spoilt vulgarians on the planet, though demure enough to accept their own diminishment; but on the other hand, that I have a residual loyalty and duty to do something. Or I could just go shopping.
 Mencius Moldbug, “OL8: A Reset is not a Revolution”, Unqualified Reservations (weblog), 5th June 2008.