I have a message for the London mayor, Sadiq Khan: you and your policies stink! While the fuzz are busy scanning the internet for racist or sexist material, crime in the capital is up by six per cent over the past 12 months and the police — handicapped by PC orders from above — have made 20 per cent fewer arrests. Statistics show youth violence and murder soaring in London, with the latter up by 84 per cent on last year.

But here’s a story that’s not a statistic. Last week, my little girl Lolly was viciously attacked and robbed near the World’s End pub on the King’s Road after going to dinner with her cousin. She had spotted a hoodie (does Cameron still wish us to hug them?) on her way to dinner, a man of North African or Middle Eastern appearance. He attacked her after dinner asshe was nearing her flat.

Mind you, the scumbag got a surprise. My beautiful daughter is made of sterner stuff and fought back, kicking him you know where though she was unable to gouge his eyes, as I have taught her to do. When she was hit on the side of the head and went down she continued to fight, but the cowardly scumbag managed to rip an expensive necklace off her before running into the darkness. The next day, a very nice female cop visited her and took down some details. But she didn’t even ask for a description of the gem the filth had stolen. I suppose that taking a description of something he was certain to get rid off immediately plays no part in police work nowadays. It just might look a bit racist to go into the areas where these criminals live and check out a few pawnshops.

My little girl had already told me how hoodlums and football hooligans get into drunken fights after dark near the Chelsea football ground, and how there are never any police around. The mayor does not give a hoot for those who live near Chelsea or in other so-called chic neighbourhoods. He is there to help those who look different and have a different religion from the rest of the Brits, it’s as simple as that. If the Grenfell Tower had been occupied by well-off white people, the mourning and media coverage would have been over the very same day. There are Arab gangs in Chelsea orchestrating break-ins, robbing shops and mugging people — often on mopeds — but London’s powers that be care about only one thing: racism.

I think that most of us would agree that displaying empathy when it hides the truth is no virtue. The truth is that foreign-born gangs are not inclined to uphold our laws but choose instead the easy way, i.e. the criminal one. It might sound racist to some, but that’s how it is and the media that covers up these unpleasant truths are as guilty as the piece of filth who attacked my little girl the other night.

This culture divide began in the 1960s and was encouraged by the weak-kneed lefties — the kind who called Enoch Powell a racist — of all parties and political persuasions. If European leaders had followed more conservative policies on immigration long ago, perhaps this continent wouldn’t be in the deep you-know-what it is in today. The true traitors, in my not-so-humble opinion, are the mainstream media and academics. They are the ones who have spread the poison among the young so that they can pat each other on the back when they meet and drink cheap warm white plonk in smelly places. They think they are morally superior, which is as delusional as Norma Desmond’s belief that Cecil B. DeMille wanted her back to star in one of his epics.

Political correctness that sees racism everywhere is a malignant scourge that will bring about the end of Europe. Perhaps not in my children’s lifetime, but definitely in that of my grandchildren. Newspeak  designed to make political dissent impossible is now the order of the day. Anything that the media and the academy does not approve of is called racist, and a repackaged national identity is the inevitable result. Everything has to change: history, sovereignty, the works. In America last week, a church in Virginia took down two plaques honouring men who had worshipped there, one of George Washington, the other of Robert E. Lee. The plaques distracted our worshippers, said the cowardly rector.

But what’s the use of getting angry? Last week I wrote that if Brexit goes through, I’ll be back living in London in a jiffy. Now I’m so livid about the carelessness of British leaders in allowing all these criminals in, I might just stop somewhere in the north Atlantic and live out my days in peace. 

And a close friend who is the chairman of Asprey tells me that London is no longer good for business. Stamp duty is 15 per cent and rates are 50 per cent up. He is opening ten stores in Japan and South Korea, where taxes are reasonable. The Tories are killing off the golden goose and don’t know it. That arch Russian arse licker George Osborne started the rot. His jerky successor is almost as bad. Goodbye, London, Reykjavik here I come.