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A stylised graphic in a 1968 protest-poster aesthetic shows a hooded figure silhouetted in black, arms outstretched, standing before a fiery red and white explosion. The background is highly textured with grainy, distressed effects. In the bottom right, bold red and black block capitals read: “BRITAIN’S POGROM LOGIC.”

Britain’s Pogrom Logic

The mob lit the match, but it was the right-wing press that soaked the ground and stood back to watch it burn.

A stylised vintage poster in a 1968 screen-printed aesthetic, showing a silhouetted military helicopter flying above a skyline at sunset. The scene includes a palm tree, a domed Middle Eastern-style structure, and a rooftop with an antenna, all rendered in bold black against an orange background with a beige border.

Evacuation as Pretext, Escalation as Policy

Trump’s second term marries ICE raids at home with a war machine primed abroad, and Iran, once again, plays the designated enemy.

A stylised, square-format illustration of the FIFA Club World Cup trophy in golden tones, positioned prominently in the background. In front of it sit three burlap sacks overflowing with gold coins, one marked with a large dollar sign. The backdrop is a warm, textured orange, evoking a vintage poster aesthetic and symbolising the commercialisation of football.

The Club World Cup and the Triumph of Capital over Competition

The Club World Cup is not a celebration of football, but a monument to its financial capture—driven by Saudi money, Trump’s authoritarian theatre, and a FIFA leadership that serves capital before fans.

A chalk or pastel-style painting shows three pub patrons sitting at a bar, watching a televised broadcast of a parliamentary debate. On the TV screen, a female politician stands at the despatch box in the House of Commons, addressing MPs seated on green benches. The pub interior is warmly lit with wooden paneling, beer taps, and pints on the bar, contrasting with the cooler tones of the televised political scene.

The Illusion of Renewal

Rachel Reeves’s Spending Review and the Political Economy of Placation

A grainy black-and-white newspaper-style image shows Donald Trump speaking at a podium bearing the Presidential Seal, wearing a dark suit and a military-style cap. Behind him, rows of uniformed soldiers in berets stand in formation, their faces slightly blurred, evoking a vintage wartime press photo.

The Lie Is the Point – Why Trump and His Administration Always Deny What They Just Said

Trump doesn’t lie to persuade—he lies to dominate, using contradiction as a weapon to break truth itself.

Book cover of "Murderland: Crime and Bloodlust in the Time of Serial Killers" by Caroline Fraser. The design features a monochrome photo of a man's face—partially obscured—with a superimposed industrial landscape and plume of smoke, blending the imagery of a serial killer with a polluted, foreboding environment. The title is in bold yellow text at the top, and the author's name appears at the bottom in yellow, noting her as the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of "Prairie Fires".

The Crazy Wall

Caroline Fraser’s Murderland dismantles the voyeurism of true crime by tracing serial murder not to aberrant monsters but to the poisoned infrastructures, institutional apathy, and cultural amnesia that made their violence possible.

A dark, dystopian digital painting of heavily armed police in tactical gear and gas masks standing in formation along a smoke-filled, war-torn urban street. The scene is shadowy and oppressive, with glowing embers and twisted tree branches in the background, evoking a sense of militarised occupation and impending violence.

Let California Secede in Spirit

California is not a client state—if Texas can defy Washington to punish the poor, then California can defy Washington to protect them.

A stylised diptych poster On the left, a utopian scene of post-war British council housing: clean, mid-century low-rise flats with open communal space where children play and neighbours chat in a sunlit courtyard. On the right, a stark contrast—dilapidated, privately rented housing with cracked walls, broken windows, a decaying swing, and a large “FOR RENT” sign, evoking neglect, scarcity, and social decline. Both panels are rendered in red and beige tones, underscoring the ideological shift from collective provision to market-driven decay.

A Nation That Rents, and Rots

The British housing crisis is not a matter of scarcity but of structure—a system that treats homes as investment vehicles, tenants as revenue streams, and housing itself as a battlefield between capital and collective life.