This insecurity is manifested in extravagant displays of loyalism, a stubborn refusal to consider all olive branches from their co-inhabitants, a messianic fundamentalism and delusions of being "a chosen people", and ruthless displays of self interest masquerading as the defence of freedom.

Continually demanding that their "loyalty" be reciprocated by their mother country, attention seeking behaviour at every opportunity for fear of being forgotten, and a quaint refusal to recognise that their mother country has actually moved on and is no longer the country their forebears left, are other symptoms of this anxiety.

Loyalists will celebrate their victories over their nationalist foes many centuries ago, their losses at the Somme and other imperial adventures, the contributions of their alumni to the imperial efforts of long ago.

But it is all in vain. Their leaders doth protest too much. They have become an almighty pain and embarrassment to the leaders of their mother country and are chiefly indulged as useful idiots, if at all.

In the meantime their future is staring them in the face, but few have the courage to acknowledge it, and those that do are quickly ostracised.  They will fight for the Union to the last drop of somebody else's blood, declare that they will leave, and take their business with them if the unthinkable happens an a united Ireland happens, and then stick around as uncomfortable guests, not knowing which way to look.

They will whinge and whine, as UK expats are wont to do, at the inadequacies of their new country and its leadership, regardless of whether all there needs and concerns have been catered to. In the end no one will much care, as every caring gesture will have been treated with condescension and contempt.

For some people there is no future. They are the living dead. Important only in their own minds. Central only in their own universe. Embittered, betrayed, lost.  An embarrassment to their own children, who are getting on with their lives and wondering what all the fuss is about.

They are the passengers of history who imagine they are its drivers. Best to just let them go on their own journey to nowhere. They have no  destination, no promised land. They are not the Israelites of their own fond imagination. God has not left them They just didn't recognise him when he came.

Index of Frank's Diaries