It turns out that the most fervently pro-immigration individuals in Britain are precisely those who have mastered the art of living in areas where spotting a person of colour is as rare as a sunny day in Manchester.
The survey, conducted in the whitest enclaves of the country, unveiled the shocking revelation that the strongest advocates for open borders are, in fact, the very folks who could host a neighborhood barbecue with the entire population attending and still have leftovers.
“I always knew my passion for immigration had nothing to do with actually living around diverse communities,” admitted one survey participant, sipping chai tea in a quaint village where the most exotic thing is the imported Italian olive oil at the corner shop.
The findings have prompted speculation that perhaps the more removed one is from the practical realities of immigration, the more idealistic and welcoming their stance becomes. It’s almost as if the absence of diversity breeds an insatiable appetite for it.
“I’ve never seen a person from another country in my town, but I feel a deep, moral obligation to advocate for those I’ve never met,” explained another respondent, who lives in a village where the local dialect is considered “exotic” if it deviates too much from received pronunciation.
Critics argue that this phenomenon might be the result of a peculiar strain of virtue signaling, where the less exposed one is to immigration challenges, the louder they proclaim their love for it.
As the survey results make the rounds, it seems that in the whitest corners of Britain, the dream of a multicultural utopia burns the brightest. Who needs diversity on your doorstep when you can champion it from the cosy comfort of a homogeneous hamlet?
