At the End of the Day

I love both my daughters equally and unreservedly. The younger of the two is currently trying to get a permanent residency visa in Australia.

She in turn loves Australia, and wants to immigrate. She’s good at what she does, and just got another glowing management assessment at the company employing her out there. But being sensible people, those in charge in Australia don’t leave anything to chance.

Great Britain has an inestimable amount to learn from Australia. There – I’ve said it. Never thought I would, but I have. Here’s why.

The crap you have to go through to get a permanent residency visa in Oz would put off only those with a steely determination to become Australian. Myself, having spent some time there observing the degree to which the scenery and seas are lovely (but you’ll be bitten in the former and eaten in the latter) I think I’d rather immigrate to Iran. But you have to hand it to the Aussies, they only want the folks of good and tolerant character in the next generation.

You have to prove that the police forces of several continents love you. You have to prove the reality of every last educational qualification down to the Gold Star you got for a portrait of your pet mouse in kindergarten. You have to prove that without you, your employer would slide into inexorable insolvency. And you have to prove that you never bad-debted or bad-mouthed a single Australian in your life, and can recite the routines of Dame Edna Everidge by heart.

The rules of entry are so strict and complex, there is an entire legal sector out there – the equivalent size of conveyancing in the UK – that does nothing except help people apply for a residency visa.

Compare and contrast that frustrating but entirely rational filtering policy with what pertains here in Britain, where (it is estimated) there are around 15,000 dangerous Islamist plotters, and we do not know the whereabouts of any of them. In the UK today, so long as you turn up and hint that your great aunt’s dog Abdul has been subjected to government harrassment in your country of origin, the chances are that you’ll be let in. I know that sounds a bit Daily Mail and so forth, but the figures tend to support my somewhat cavalier generalisation: despite grandiose promises to the contrary during the 2010 General Election campaign here, figures released by the ONS show that immigration rose under the Conservative Party in the year up to June 2011, during which time 593,000 people gained permanent entry into the UK…an increase of 11,000 on the previous year. The year following that one has seen an influx only marginally lower.

As for the mechanism that exists for every arrival in Australia trying to convert a temporary visa into permanent residency, nothing equivalent to that exists in any meaningful sense in the United Kingdom. Dingbat analyses claiming that skills we don’t have here will be lost by stopping immigration are greeted with raucous hilarity down under: their view mirrors mine exactly – as in, “So train your own pool of unemployed”.

I’m sad that I don’t see my younger daughter very often, and I’m worried about the Oz economy catching pneumonia. But I’m delighted she’s making her own way in a world where the opportunities are gravitating towards where she is. Above all, I’m especially pleased that – just like her sister – she spots pc drivel a mile off, and ignores it. I cannot describe adequately the immense satisfaction – and pride – this produces in me.

Related: How pc bollocks allowed paedophilia to spread unchecked in Britain.