There is a swathe of reporters from numerous media outlets currently “embedded” with the legions of Gimmegrants (sorry – “desperate refugees”) journeying to the promised land.
Few of their accounts have been more obsequious and uncritical as those from the BBC. I recently encountered their depiction of one Nour Ammar and her tale of woe. It’s possibly the most surreal example of Metroluvvie propaganda I’ve yet seen concerning the “migrant crisis”.
Let us meet this poor, benighted individual, shall we?
*Enter stage left*
This is our protagonist, Nour:
As you can see, Nour is in a pensive mood, contemplating traveling ““. Horrors.
Nour was in a dire situation I’m sure all readers can relate to:
“For two years in Istanbul, she enjoyed a comfortable life. Nour found work in a hair transplant salon, and later with Turkish state TV. She learnt Turkish, went horse-riding and dyed her hair blonde for the summer.”
We’ve all been there. The mid-life, or quarter-life crisis. You wonder what you’re doing with your life. You’re safe, relatively happy and have a comfortable lifestyle. Then someone comes along and tells you what you’re missing out on in the lifestyle of the “desperate refugee”.
So you decide to get away from it all and “make it to the Swedish city of Gothenburg”, where you remember your “brother lives with his young family.” (Nour might want to reconsider the whole dying her hair blonde thing in Sweden, though).
As a general rule immigration protocols tend to favour applicants who already have family members settled in the receiving nation. Naturally, this makes the whole process of legitimately requesting to live and work in the nation in question much easier. Not least because a relative can act as a sponsor. This is where the tale ends, because that would be the sensible…
“There, she would apply for political asylum….Nour planned to follow the increasingly familiar migrant trail from the Turkish coast to northern Europe.”
So hard up and desperate was Nour, that she put on her only pair of Jimmy Choo sandals and, one foot in front of the other and…
….booked a flight from Istanbul to Izmir on a Boeing 737
She then, miraculously, found $1,200 in her Harrods designer purse to pay a people smuggler to take her to the Greek island of Agathonisi.
The BBC appear to find it incredible that on her (and compatriots’) journey through Greece and into Macedonia, “hotels turned them away.” I find this incredible myself given that it is made clear throughout the article that Nour is not short of petty cash, including paying towards a taxi ride and bribing local police. I would struggle to find a bed and breakfast in London that wouldn’t take hard cash for a few nights, never mind in south eastern Europe, where the youth unemployment rate is up to 55%+.
The BBC then spend some time detailing the fact that Nour and her fellow travelers were ill in transit. I hate to break it to BBC Metroluvvies who taxi everywhere, but this is quite common for us proles who use this thing called “public transport” and especially for long journeys.
Following this interval, we return to the urgent emoting. Nour is afraid apparently. No, not of her reserve of petty cash running out, silly. She’s afraid of being fingerprinted in Hungary. The BBC quote her saying “If we pass safe – that’s fantastic,….It would be a disaster to be fingerprinted.”
It would be a disaster for Nour’s
Gap Yah, sorry – “desperate refugee flight” because it would mean being identified and possibly subject to the Dublin Convention. She would have to register for asylum in Hungary. This is unacceptable, obviously, because our Heroine is Asylum-Shopping and only Sweden will do, you philistines!
The BBC, in all their neutrality, make it clear what they think of the Dublin Convention:
“In theory, you have to stop and apply for asylum in the country which first registers you. This rule is not always enforced, but many refugees refuse to take the risk and do whatever they can to avoid being fingerprinted.”
Yes, what an awful “risk”. You’re so desperate to survive and escape certain death, everyone knows that being fingerprinted and asked to apply for asylum in the first safe country you enter is the most horrible thing that could happen to you.
But, not to fear! “Like a dream”, once within the Schengen area, Nour has no problem making her way to Gothenburg. As soon as she realised she’d entered Sweden, naturally “[s]he sent a message to her mother on WhatsApp to tell her she had made it.”
Obviously it is important to let the family know on the iPhone. They’ll be desperate for those remittances once you’re settled in your new home. And of course, your heart will go out to anyone who is desperate enough flee abroad in order to support a distant family living in squalid circumstances like these:
Oops, sorry! Those aren’t poor Syrian refugees. Those are Romanian rural poor, who have never even seen an iPhone. But let’s pretend they don’t exist, and get back to our “desperate refugee” narrative for the middle class Syrian, Nour.
Nour has one last Herculean trial awaiting her. She has to apply in person for asylum in Sweden. Not to worry, however. Her brother has supplied her with a script. The BBC doesn’t go into detail, but I’m sure it will have included mentioning persecution for political, or sexual preferences. The BBC helpfully leaves us with a final image, showing Nour attending a police station in Gothenberg to claim asylum.
You’ll be forgiven for thinking, as I did, she’s just finished a shop at Gucci, along with a visit to the hairdresser and personal stylist.
I’ve obviously been lied to all these years about what desperate people with nothing fleeing warzones and imminent death actually look like: