I had a nose around the Calais jungle yesterday. I was going to avoid writing this but the guy i got a lift with decided not to give me a lift back because he got jealous i was talking to one of the refuges. Which was really could have been really dangerous but actually lead to a really fun day of extreme tourism in the Calais jungle. Ladies, Don’t believe the hype about rape gangs. The Calais jungle is full of well fit guys. Ladies (and gentlemen too if you are so disposed) We should all go there on a coach trip.
am headed to the jungle. I get offered a lift by posh mr x and his world music covers choir. I heard them practicing at the warehouse. They are fairly accomplished but they sound really really white. The think about all the communities in the refugee camp. They start singing something from the lion king. Are we really going to go into a sudanese refugee community and sing culturally appropriated traditional african folk songs. accompanied by two posh white white men, I playing a traditional african tribal drum and another one on acoustic guitar. Why don’t we all just black up? I think to myself. Lets get some Bob Marley dread hats and mumma africa earrings. If we are going to do cultural appropriaion. Lets really do it. They start on a Bob Marley cover. Have these people not suffered enough. I think I think. I think about about “The jungle.” I think about the one on the news. I think about the well meaning middle class twats. We are going to get to get killed. I think. I go along for the ride anyway.
We get to the jungle. it looks like a cross between a generic third world shanty town and Glastonbury festival. I feel quite comfortable. A sudanese guy wearing a hoody and nike airs comes up to us. He looks at middle class white man with the acoustic guitar. Are we going to make party?” He’s looking at the posh white man with an acoustic guitar and he doesn’t sound convinced. There is a large group of twenty or thirty man gathered. i think about the sun newspaper reports about immigrant rape gangs The choir begins serenading them. The guys gathered look unimpressed but they tolerate it and even offer unenthusiastic applause but they don’t kill us. Which is more than we deserve.
A Citroen Bellingo arrives. It’s full of donations, part of the constant trickle of little vans and cars that arrive at the warehouse. Like the Dunkirk flotilla they cross the channel but this time its not little boats but little cars and hire vehicles. That same spirit that made Britain so great. People practicing random acts […]