By Sebastian Morello.

But frist a note from Robert Royal: I'm extending this mid-year fundraiser just one day because we're close, but only close. But this is it. Donations are always welcome, of course, but experience says the campaigns are when most people give. If you haven't contributed so far, here's one last chance. You read this site because you value this site. Please, today, show it.

Now for today's column...

For those not living in these Isles, it's very difficult to imagine what it's like here. Depression, bordering on despair, is almost palpable and crops up everywhere. Recently, I got chatting to a stranger in a pub, and mentioned that I was soon to attend the citizenship ceremony of a friend who had immigrated from Eastern Europe. "Why would anyone in their right mind want to join this country?" the chap remarked. "That's like climbing aboard a sinking ship."

Cecil Rhodes said, "To be born English is to win first prize in the lottery of life." A little over a century later, most people living here are in crushing debt. Mortgages are almost impossible to attain for anyone under thirty-five. And anyone who gets one will be paying it off for the rest of his life, spending over half his annual income merely to enjoy shelter from the elements. Monthly bills, groceries, and fuel have all risen over the past two decades while wages have remained stagnant.

The National Health Service (NHS) is failing. It's hard to see a GP, let alone get a hospital appointment for something more serious. Rather than reforming the NHS, the government only throws more of the taxpayers' money at it. Occasionally, the destination of this money is revealed, for example, when the public learned that eye-watering amounts of taxpayers' funds go to removing two penises per day in 'transgender' surgeries, mostly on vulnerable teenagers.

Beyond the ghoulishness of such mutilations, these revelations are disheartening given that taxation is already through the roof. Large portions of taxes are also used to house illegal immigrants in hotels, a significant minority of whom team up with naturalized immigrants in rape-and-torture gangs to prey on helpless native girls. England's towns and cities are overrun with new arrivals, and the country's capital can no longer be described as an English city.

The native English are doing what defeated people do: fleeing to the hills. Those who can, leave the country and never look back. Others move to rural areas, requiring enormous housing developments, in turn rapidly wrecking England's once universally admired countryside.

Owing to the UK's benefits system, an illegal immigrant, or someone who refuses to work, or claims some long-term fatigue or another expedient malady, can flourish here. If, however, you are just a normal person, who wants to get married, have some children, raise them wholesomely and non-ideologically, and acquire some property and security, you will spend your life being hammered by the structurally unjust 'system.'

In essence, this has become a land in which virtue is punished. If you voice your discontent in a clumsy Tweet or Facebook post, the thought police will come knocking, and you might end up with a prison sentence.

England is paradoxical. It's the land of both Darwin and Newman, of Bentham and Belloc, of bohemian transgression and tweedy conservatism, of the adventurous heart of imperial Britain and the rustic paradise of the little Englander. It's the land of mechanization, materialist reductionism, evolutionist progressivism, and all the noxious dogmas that together are called 'modernity', and yet it's the land of the Catholic Second Spring. England has been at war with itself ever since the treacherous attack on the Church's integrity that we've since euphemistically called the 'Reformation.'

Anglicanism distils the inner conflict, wherein Puritanism and Romanization struggle for rights and representation within a single institution whose buildings are stolen, whose offices...