# Phone, what phone?

Although today’s blog dredges up something that’s nearly three years old, we’re only just hearing about it now, courtesy of The Sun having to prise the truth out of the system with Freedom of Information requests. Because obviously this was never going to be volunteered, was it? How this managed to dodge social media, the wider press, and the permanently furious commentariat for so long is anyone’s guess. But to say it’s got my hackles up again would be like describing a house fire as “a bit warm”.

We’re ten rants deep at this point, and remarkably this is the first time I’ve touched this particular powder keg, though let’s be honest, it won’t be the last. That topic being what the progressive liberal elite insist on calling “asylum seekers”, usually while nodding solemnly and congratulating themselves on their moral superiority. Me? I prefer plain English: illegal economic migrants. Asylum seekers my arse.

If they were genuinely fleeing persecution, they wouldn’t be shelling out thousands to people-smugglers and playing human roulette in the Channel. They’d spend £35 on a one-way Ryanair ticket, land at Heathrow, Gatwick, or Stansted, and shout “ASYLUM” the moment their shoes hit the tarmac. Funny how that option never seems to come up.

But there I go again, wandering off on a tangent fuelled by equal parts rage and disbelief. Back to the point. Back to the three-year-old story. The one nobody wanted you to notice until now.

Right, let’s wind the clock back to where this particular farce began.

Between April and November 2020, a number, and no, nobody seems remotely certain how many, illegal migrants washed up on the shores of Dover. And once ferried off to the Manston holding centre, had their mobile phones seized. That’s the ones that hadn’t already been lobbed into the Channel, along with passports, documents, SIM cards, birth certificates, dental records, shoe sizes and any other inconvenient detail that might suggest they’d had a life somewhere else before five minutes ago.

The phones were taken by Border Force for one very boring, very sensible reason: intelligence. Phone numbers. Contacts. Routes. Smuggling networks. Known criminals. Travel history. You know, actual policing, the sort of thing governments are supposed to do.

All good I hear you say. Well, yes up until now but here’s where it tips into full-blown clown show.

Somehow, and I genuinely mean fuck knows how, 32 of these entirely helpless, penniless, traumatised, male-only illegal economic migrants suddenly found the legal awareness, strategic thinking and procedural confidence to go, “Hang on a minute lads, I’ve brushed up on my English constitutional law and this simply will not do. Let’s sue the Government.”

I say that, of course, in jest. Because clearly they didn’t. But somewhere out there, like a bat signal lighting up the night sky, a do-gooding progressive liberal, with red and green hair, a face like a pin cushion and a two-pound steel nose ring, must have had them on speed dial.

And right on cue, enter stage left what I consider the absolute bottom feeders of modern Britain. The legal parasites. The human rights lawyers. Morals of an alley cat, ethics set permanently to “invoice later”. You can almost hear the collective salivating as they clocked up the legal aid hours. Ker-ching. Another cause. Another grievance. Another taxpayer-funded payday.

And all dressed up, of course, as “justice”.

The grand finale of these 32 illegal migrants dragging the Government to court was that, in October 2022, a judicial review sided with them, or rather, with their lawyers, because let’s not kid ourselves who was actually driving the clown car. The court decided that seizing their phones breached their right to a private and family life, and each of them was handed roughly £6,500 in compensation for this alleged human rights outrage. And there's another 41 cases waiting in the wings. You do the math.

Yes. That’s correct. Sit with it for a moment.

Even though we know, for a fact, that the overwhelming majority of these young men of fighting age (96%, in case anyone wants to scream “racist” instead of “maths”) have demonstrated nothing but contempt for UK laws, customs, and social norms, the magic spellbook known as the fucking European Convention on Human Rights swoops in to save the day.

So, let’s tot it up, shall we? Free accommodation. Free NHS healthcare. Free NHS dentistry. Three square meals a day. And then, just to really rub salt into the wound, £6,500 in cash, presumably to be spunked up the wall on nights out in whatever unlucky rural community has been parachuted into this social experiment. The mind doesn’t just boggle; it does a full somersault and dislocates something on the way down.

And spare me the idea that these 32 lads arrived here clutching a dog-eared copy of British human rights law. I’d bet a pound to a pinch of salt they didn’t know, or care, about their “right to a private and family life” until it was whispered lovingly into their ears by those stains on society: the human rights lawyers. Ideological driven leftist missionaries with expense accounts. They saw an opportunity to push their worldview and make a shitload of money at the same time, and by God, they took it.

And here’s the bit that really grinds my gears into dust: WE PAID FOR IT. Not metaphorically. Literally. Out of our pockets.

For balance, because apparently, you’re obliged to sprinkle that in these days, the policy that allowed this farce was introduced by that other shower of shite when they were in power: the Tories. Credit where it’s due, the current Labour government has since repealed it, so it’s no longer in force. One correct decision in 17 months. Mark the calendar. This is why there is only one choice this coming May and whenever the next GE may be.

Still didn’t stop my blood pressure hitting orbit when I read it though.