We would ship them in daily by the truck load. I had never imagined my life to turn out this way, but with all the mass immigration, finding a job that pays was next to impossible. So ironically I got in on the mass immigration business...
English people loved migrants and so I would operate the logistics of getting them to their doorsteps.
I remember the first deaths fondly. 57 dead. We had packed them in too tightly. They had died before we even managed to get them through Northern Ireland, so we dumped the bodies in the bogs like we used to do with the English soldier boys back in the day. It was during a heatwave. The bodies smelled sweetly sickly. £100K+ and they didn't even reach their destination. Winner winner, chicken dinner. We had saved on fuel costs.
After that we reduced the numbers to prevent the CO2 poisoning. The recent incident was the migrants fault for not bringing enough blankets. We had warned them... and they had paid £100k+ for a trip to Essex via the backdoor. But that was life. Our driver would blag his way through the police. They KNEW they had nothing. They couldn't touch us. They couldn't STOP the flow of money or England's insatiable want for more migrants. Too many leftists in high positions were in on it, for the feels, and for the bribes. They were doing Gods work you see...
And Brexit was very good for business. We could really milk the migrants for everything they were worth. Our back door would only become more valuable as they raised the Calais bridge moats. I would always laugh myself silly every time I heard a remainer talking about how bad the UK was going to be after Brexit. There was a reason the migrants were CHOOSING us, and paying absurd sums to get in. I could see it in the Cold Hard Cash in my hand.
It didn't matter how many died, or how shit England became. As long as working class people were kept out of TV and film, we would constantly send images to the rest of the world of a Hugh Grant laden wealthy wonderland. I swear I saw one of the migrants I had shipped once begging on the streets, and I am pretty sure that as he made eye contact... he recognized me. He gave that look, like he had peered behind the curtain to see that the Grand Wizard of Oz, was just a lie. A dream sold to them. Dollar dollar dollar.
@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Human Trafficker