I Was a Good Guy Nazi

I didn't always want to be a Nazi, but it became a good idea. I hadn't had a job in years. I was an intense angry young man with no prospects. And I knew Europeans who had jobs in my city, but spoke no English. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe they were undercutting me or willing to work with reduced employment rights on the sly (as many of them had relayed to me).
How could I compete with them, when the improvement in their living/working conditions was a downfall for my living/working conditions.
And then Brexit came. All is fair in capitalism. And it seemed like a great way to get them out of the country (no hate or anything, just playing the job game).
So I joined a Nazi chapter and helped with their propaganda campaigns. We had to ensure our louts were loud and thuggish to scare the politicians into thinking they will lose their grey vote (most of whom are grandparents of the lout class).
Fitting in was difficult, but I always resorted to my go to lines like "So black people, I don't hate them, but they should go back to their own country!".
They called me a soft Nazi which helped when I slipped up extolling foreign wine and products. "It's all about the trades bro!" I would say.
Anyway I wasn't a soft Nazi. I knew what I was. Just chasing a job dream. It was mein kampf.
I eventually got my job. I worked at one of the concentration camps processing EU citizens after Brexit. I even got promoted! I was a good guy Nazi.

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover