It has been suggested in certain quarters that the Young Fogey (YF) is 'gone for good'. I disagree. In the last 20 years YFs certainly went out of style and escaped underground. Still, if one investigated, one could find them within certain universities, Conservative constituencies, and parishes. The Countryside March through central London on 4 March 1998, in which I am pleased as punch to say I took part, attracted thousands of YFs. Bridge clubs in Kensington and Chelsea were positively bursting with them.
I daresay the YF has yet to hit his peak. His day is coming. For the impending wars will be over the issue of identity. The main conflict of our era is between globalists and particularists, that is to say, between the global MultiKult trying to genocide us into one big brown shit-pile of mass sub-humanity, and those loyal few who wish to keep alive particular attachments and specific loves. Love, of course, like evolution, is only possible in separation, or isolation. It prevents the spinning world from casting us into nothingness like random atoms.
The YF is nothing if not local. Are you local? The YF answers with a resolute Yes! YFs of the future will blend the best of the past with an eye to the future, with a hard edge and a confident and ruthless approach. They will defend neither values nor propositions, but actual flesh-and-blood human beings. They will stand up for our people, the living and the dead and the yet-to-be-born. In the past attempts to effect change were made through the Book of Common Prayer; tomorrow a side-by-side and RPG are used. An understanding of what must be done flows directly from the necessity for survival. It's inevitable.
The Young Fogey is the unique ethno-cultural expression of the English people. As long as there are English, there are fogeys. Race and culture are inseparable. The latter derives from the former, you see, like a flower blossoms from the soil. The Spirit dwells within the flesh. And the Tweed cometh.