Chapter I.
The Watch and the Pamphlet.
The British are a nation capable of stealing your watch and then handing you a pamphlet on punctuality.
The Empire of Albion isn’t about geography or colonies—it’s a global system of appropriation, branding other people’s successes, and moral colonialism disguised as afternoon tea.
This isn’t just “some colonialism.” It’s a centuries-old system of violence, manipulation, and narrative erasure of authorship. From Newton to Enigma. From curry to AI. From marble to murder.
A Brit will take your cow, but leave you a reference letter for the dairy.
I. Intellectual Appropriations
Isaac Newton vs. Gottfried Leibniz
Newton didn’t invent calculus alone. Leibniz published first, but the Royal Society (with Newton at the helm) declared the Englishman was the pioneer. The result? England marinated for a hundred years in its own sauce, dismissing everything from Germany as a counterfeit.
James Watt and the Myth of the Steam Engine
Watt didn’t invent the steam engine. He improved an existing design. Thanks to patents and British PR, he became the messiah of the Industrial Revolution. That’s like claiming the invention of the car by the guy who designed the cupholder.
Enigma: How the Poles Did It, But the British Legend Keeps Quiet
In 1932, the Poles break Enigma, and by 1939 hand over the work to the Brits. At Bletchley Park, Turing continues their research. After the war? The Poles don’t even make it into the footnotes. Even Hollywood never heard of them, so the Poles had to fill in the blanks over vodka.
DeepMind and AI: Global Effort, British PR
Founded in London, built by scientists from everywhere. But the media is fed tales of the “British soul of AI.”
Artificial intelligence with an Albion passport: before it learns to recognize a cat in a photo, it completes a course in small talk.
If you think appropriation ends with mathematical notation and encryption machines—just wait for the British collection of other people’s statues and dishes.
II. Cultural Appropriations
The British Museum: Cathedral of Curated Theft
Collections from Greece, Egypt, Nigeria, India, China, all stolen or “acquired” under occupation.
It’s not a museum, it’s a loot warehouse with a “for education” tag.
The civilized version: “Storage with confiscation.”
Tea, Curry, and the Colonial Cuisine of Identity
Tea from China, spices from India, sugar from the Caribbean, all packaged as “the British way of life.”
A culinary crime served with the Empire’s litmus paper.
Reggae, Dub, and Jamaican Resistance on BBC License
Reggae hit the BBC, and Jamaican rebellion became a playlist for garden parties in Kent. Most of the money from Jamaican music landed with white producers in London. The rest were allowed to dance in the videos.
They didn’t stop at soul and the dinner plate, they went for the land, the mines, and anything with a shadow of value.
III. Physical Appropriations
India: 200 Years of Economic Amputation
The Brits took the spices, left the railways and taxes.
Africa: Mobile Gallows, Hang the “Guilty” in Front of Their Village
Africa: the whites played cricket, the blacks dug for gold. The rest is silenced in the museum guide.
Australia: “Terra Nullius” and the Erasure of Existence
Australia was “nobody’s”, because they refused to recognize anyone as human except themselves.
When physical looting stopped being practical, they invented remote robbery—done with gloves and a tie.
IV. Neocolonial Appropriations
Economy: The City of London as a Colonial Lifeboat
Today, London’s finances launder consciences once washed with gold.
Pop Culture: Netflix, BBC, Hollywood, and White Pharaohs. Egyptians played by white actors, the Empire returns as a series, sponsored by nostalgia.
To keep everyone from getting lost in the maze of higher civilization, they created a ready-made decalogue: a manual for appropriation on any occasion.
V. The British-Style Appropriation Decalogue
- Enter with a product no one wants.
- Create a “problem” (or a conflict).
- Offer a “solution,” provided the resources change hands.
- Seize control of the institutions.
- Declare it’s “for the good of civilization.”
- Pack up everything valuable into containers.
- Leave the locals with debts, divisions, and the English alphabet.
- Return to London as a “crisis management expert.”
- Call it a “transition period.”
- Write a book about how you saved the world, then make a series starring Cumberbatch.
In the end, there’s only one thing left: press your cuffs and declare to the world that history is a matter of perspective… and copyright over marble.
VI. The Empire’s Conscience
We’re not asking for reparations. We’re asking for the basic recognition of facts. We’re not asking if you’ll give it all back. We’re asking if you can look history in the eye, knowing you were the villain, not the hero.
Maybe the marbles are in a display case, but the conscience… well, it’s still waiting to be exhibited.
🎩 Clarification Regarding Slander Against the Empire
BBC interview, 5:05 p.m., right after the weather and before the Corgi parade.
Host: Penelope Snortworthy-Whitestone (BBC):
– Today in the studio, we welcome our distinguished guests: Lord Archibald Farcheston von Tewdringham, Professor of Colonial History at Imperial University Cromwell-upon-Thames, and Lady Cecilia Paddington-Poo, author of “Tea That Civilized the World.”
We’ll discuss recent… somewhat hysterical accusations against Great Britain.
Lord Farcheston:
– Thank you. I am delighted to dispel a few misunderstandings concocted by left-leaning continental intellectual circles, who, it seems, envy us our success, manners, and marbles.
ACCUSATION: “You stole the Parthenon sculptures from Greece.”
Lady Cecilia Paddington-Poo:
– Dear audience, that wasn’t theft. That was rescue. Did anyone even see the Athenians at the time? They were just sitting around, sipping ouzo. Lord Elgin merely had a temporary marble whim. Besides, don’t those sculptures look better set against Scottish fog?
Lord Farcheston:
– And they’re better lit in the British Museum. Please, don’t confuse theft with curatorial conservation.
ACCUSATION: “It was the Poles who broke Enigma.”
Lady Cecilia:
– Ah, those romantic Poles! Always wanting to be first. As if codebreaking were a contest at the prom.
We, on the other hand… perfected the method, which, as you can see, means we basically invented it anew, but better.
Lord Farcheston:
– Besides, the Poles don’t have a movie with Benedict Cumberbatch. We do. Sorry, but history gets filmed.
ACCUSATION: “You ruined India and caused millions of deaths.”
Lady Cecilia:
– But who gave them trains? They starved, yes, but punctually!
And anyway, India was dusty. We introduced the mop.
Lord Farcheston:
– And tea! Can a country that gives the world tea really be a tyranny? Let’s be serious.
ACCUSATION: “You took over reggae, curry, and all Jamaican culture.”
Lady Cecilia:
– Took over? My dear… it’s an inclusive fusion of imperial taste!
We just know how to package their soul in a limited edition with a logo.
Lord Farcheston:
– Besides, we played reggae on BBC 3, that’s serious treatment. Bob Marley once wore a blazer, so he’s practically a British gent.
ACCUSATION: “Your borders in Africa are a disaster.”
Lady Cecilia:
– We just happen to like straight lines. Easier for drawing maps after the third gin.
Lord Farcheston:
– Besides, Africa was meant to look neat on the Woking exhibition map. Not our fault no one thought to tie it all up with a ribbon of eternal gratitude.
ACCUSATION: “The British stole everything that could be taken.”
Lady Cecilia:
– Show me one thing that didn’t look better after being exported to London.
Lord Farcheston:
– Theft is a relative concept. Here, we call it ‘civilizational archiving.’
END OF PROGRAM
Ms. Snortworthy-Whitestone:
– Thank you all. I hope this clarification clears up any doubts among those unfamiliar with the nuances of our imperial elegance.
After the break, cooking with Lord Percival Scone-Bottom and a recipe for colonial pineapple salad with denial.
That’s what history looks like when written by the winner with a cup of tea.
The rest of the world gets the bill and a footnote nobody reads.