Eugène Delacroix

Persistent rumor has it that, during an unbroadcast(able) edition of 1980s U.K. TV quiz show Family Fortunes (Family Feud in the U.S.), when asked by the host to “Name a dangerous race,” one contestant answered, “The Arabs,” instead of Le Mans or the Paris-Dakar Rally, as intended.

You can gain endless hours of entertainment (okay, ten to fifteen minutes) looking up stupid answers on game shows online: When asked, “Name something blue,” another Family Fortunes competitor responded, “My cardigan.” When asked to “Name a type of bean,” one man said, “Lesbian.”

If you recall the rules of the show, 100 people were surveyed and asked to “Name an XX,” then participants in the studio were tasked with predicting what the most popular response had been. This led to hopeless guesses like these: “Name something made of wool.” “A sheep.” “Name a slang word for a girl.” “A slag.” “Name something you open other than a door.” “Your bowels.” “Name something you should know about a man before marrying him.” “His name.” “Name something that floats in the bath.” “Water.” (Could have been worse.) “Name something you mount.” “A mountain.” (Also could have been worse.) “Name someone or something whose existence has never been proven.” “Hitler.” (Also could have been far worse: They could have replied, “The Holocaust.”)

Uncommon Knowledge
Other misguided responses on British game shows have included demonstrations of abject general ignorance like the following: “Which member of the crow family, native to the U.K., has a bare face?” “Russell Crowe.” “Who was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald in Dallas?” “J.R. Ewing.” “In U.K. geography, the road called Wapping Street that now forms part of the A5 was originally built by which ancient civilization?” “Apes.”

“When asked to ‘Name a type of bean,’ one man said, ‘Lesbian.’”

And, best of all, this little exchange, which is unimprovable:

HOST: The nicknames “Cheesemongers,” “Cherry Pickers,” “Bob’s Own,” “The Emperor’s Chambermaids,” and “The Immortals” are, or have been, used for which groups of men?

CONTESTANT: Homosexuals.

HOST: No, they’re regiments in the British army, who will be very upset with you.

What kind of twisted mentality would you have to possess to intentionally go onto a TV general knowledge show, before a potential audience of millions, if you have no general knowledge whatsoever to even speak of?

As we shall see, an absolutely perfect mentality to get on in life in the West of tomorrow; which is to say, the entirely deculturated post-West of mass-imported Islam.

Blanc Faces
One of the Western nations where the Great Replacement is most advanced is France, where the population is currently around 10 percent Mecca Bingo players. Here a surprisingly major controversy has just arisen over the quasi-cancellation of a popular and long-running TV quiz called Questions Pour Un Champion, or Questions for a Champion (if you needed to be told that translation, please don’t ever go on a quiz show yourself).

This is an imported domestic version of the old and somewhat sedate BBC general knowledge affair Going for Gold, which has been running seven days a week in France since 1988, but not for much longer: The French public broadcaster France Télévisions, which I imagine probably means something like “France Television,” shocked the nation this summer by announcing the program would henceforth be transmitted only of a weekend, as a probable precursor to guillotining the thing altogether.

A massive public outcry ensued, with a cross-party group of MPs demanding the decision be reversed, and a petition to this effect gaining over 50,000 signatures. France Télévisions bosses pleaded they were only scaling the show back due to cost considerations, but detractors did not believe them, calling the decision an act of deliberate “cultural suicide.”

Unlike more modern and up-to-date French TV game shows, like Who’s Under the Burka? and Name That Nasheed!, the far more traditional Questions Pour Un Champion had a loyal and established, but drearily nondiverse, audience demographic primarily made up of actual white French people, disproportionately of an oppressively middle-class nature. In other words, the kind of risible Pierres et Mariannes whom stereotypical progressive metropolitan media types despise and disregard.

Attempts were made to defend the quiz by tedious, middle-of-the-road white hommes. Bruno Fallot, president of the show’s production company, called Questions Pour Un Champion a “heritage program, popular, intelligent and unifying,” whilst its host Samuel Etienne praised it as being “a bond between people, a celebration of knowledge.” They intended this as criticism of the schedulers’ decision, but they did not seem to realize that, to the average left-wing inhabitant of modern media-land, the cited qualities were ones to be actively despised, not encouraged.

One fan online bemoaned how “cutting it feels like abandoning culture,” but abandoning the traditional culture of France, as embodied by mass general knowledge of its history, geography, literature, art, and music, was precisely what those behind the decision aimed to do.

Moving Montaignes
France is the homeland of the whole notion of the Great Replacement in the first place, the phrase’s origins lying in the work of the French writer and philosopher Renaud Camus. Less well-known is his complementary coinage of the Great Deculturation, something Camus felt had to take place first in order that the subsequent Great Replacement should even prove possible.

The point of any culture in the past was to provide something tangible and transmittable to be passed down from generation to generation, a body of collective knowledge and ethos, embodied in things like poetry, myth, legend, religion, manners, codes of conduct, and suchlike, that, when combined, would all go together to make a Frenchman into a Frenchman, an Italian into an Italian, or a Greek into a Greek. Yet every genuine living culture has a superior “cultured class,” one that is set up to be aspired to by the initially uncultured quotidian masses; in the West, this was conventionally the aristocracy, the only ones who formerly enjoyed enough stores of leisure and money to be able to create and absorb much by way of high culture in the first place, as during the Renaissance.

Once the age of mass schooling began in the 1800s, this initially aristocratically created (or aristocratically commissioned and funded) culture had been passed on to people of all social classes as something to be at least somewhat aspired to during their education: Children will have been taught a corpus of classic national literature, for example, of the kind that would, today, have allowed them to go on Questions Pour Un Champion and answer questions about books without every answer being “Le Koran.”

But, says Camus, come the disastrous social revolutions of the 1960s, all this was turned upside down, and forms of customary national culture, which you actually had to make an effort to be inducted into, were tossed aside as being “elitist,” in favor a new, much more “democratic” form of pseudo-culture instead, in terms of “pop culture.”

Within a quiz-show context, all of a sudden, questions about what were previously considered to be topics of perpetual civilizational importance, like the essays of Montaigne or the plays of Racine, were tossed aside in favor of mere ephemera like No. 1 acts in that week’s (s)hit parade, who would be forgotten about by approximately this time next Tuesday.

In this way, explained Camus, culture became conceived of not as something lasting and monumental, but as something innately and inherently replaceable—and the next step was to begin applying this same principle not only to a nation’s culture, but to its people, too…

Universality Challenged
My favorite British TV quiz show used to be University Challenge—but no more. I’ve stopped watching it. More and more, I began to notice how all the usual questions about Shakespeare, Elgar, and Turner were increasingly being Great Replaced by ultra-niche identitarian things like “Which 18th-century Cardiff aristocrat was Wales’ first black lesbian cricketer?”—the kind of obscure queer or racial minutiae that nobody normal outside of a 2020s undergraduate Advanced Anus-Gazing Studies course would ever possibly know.

The particular class of professionally pseudo-educated people now setting the questions on such ruined series fancy themselves as being the new elite Western aristocracy right now, imposing the new woke pseudo-culture down from above upon a captive wider audience, transmitting it from presumed upper-class to presumed rootless, deculturated prole-class whether they want it or not, like civilizational syphilis.

But what these “superior” cretins do not realize—ironically enough, perhaps substantially because they no longer have any understanding or residual knowledge of things like their own nations’ histories, or what used to be called “the Classics”—is that, if all culture after the 1960s is deemed to be potentially and appealingly “replaceable,” then this must logically include their own, too. And, handily enough, the prime class of individual these same idiots have invited into their countries via open borders just happens to be perhaps the most thorough adherents of the concept of an actual transmitted ancestral culture of all in the world at the moment: the Muslims.

What will the quiz shows of tomorrow’s West look like, then? Not wholly unlike the old, pre-woke versions of University Challenge and Questions Pour Un Champion, I suspect; that is to say, tests of actual genuine, long-held, long-term cultural knowledge, not mere post-’60s trivia like which celebrities happen to be mating this week.

In fact, this is already coming to pass. The U.K. today has a broadcaster named the Islam Channel, one of whose shows is a classic old-style mundane Q&A-fest called The Five Pillars, footage of which shows teams of very polite brown women clad in hijabs (one of whom, it must be said, looks extraordinarily like a shaved Ewok) answering questions about standard tenets of Islamic doctrine such as prayer, fasting, and chopping people’s hands off. If there had been TV quiz shows during medieval Europe, St. Thomas Aquinas and his glamorous assistant St. Hildegard of Bingen would have been hosting one something like this, only about Christianity, not Islam.

Perhaps that much-mocked 1980s contestant on Family Fortunes was not so stupid as is often presumed, then: He was right, the Arabs are indeed a very dangerous race. On the British Muslim version of Family Fortunes, to be broadcast sometime around 2066, when asked to “Name something you beat,” the top answer in the public survey would no longer be “An egg” or “The clock,” but “Your wife.”

Either that or “Christendom. Forever. Inshallah.”