The rest of the blog
The chancellor’s proposed income tax shuffle is clever accountancy but toxic politics — a pledge-break disguised as fiscal discipline, and proof that Labour has trapped itself in rules it cannot escape.
More than 200,000 young men aren’t “signed off for life”—they are the reserve army of labour, conscripted into the Telegraph’s morality tale to prepare the ground for austerity.
David Frost calls it a new “Red Terror.” The truth is plainer: it’s the Right’s wars, coups and crackdowns that have spilt the deepest blood in politics.
Trump’s latest “kinetic strike” killed three unknown Venezuelans he labelled “narco-terrorists.” The phrase is not law but incantation, a word that strips away humanity and legitimises killing. From Vietnam body counts to Obama’s “signature strikes,” America has always named its enemies into existence, and into death.
To call Robinson’s rally “populist” or “right-wing” is to miss the point. Fascism doesn’t require every marcher to be a coherent ideologue; it requires a mass, a scapegoat, and leaders prepared to turn grievance into violence. That is what we saw in London.
The events of Saturday (13/09) prove that Britain can go fascist. Musk calls for violence, the Telegraph and Times launder his words, and Starmer clings to the flag. We must name the danger or watch it grow.
Camilla Tominey’s sainthood act for Charlie Kirk trades politics for piety. The Right already owns the machinery (press, finance, courts, police) and Kirk was part of the drive shaft. A death certificate doesn’t wash clean a career built on making violence respectable.
The ONS reports zero growth in July. The papers call it “grim news” for Rachel Reeves. In reality, it is the latest entry in a long obituary for British capitalism — a system now sustained only by euphemism, stagnation, and decline.
Let’s not pretend this was ever about a child proud of her nation. It’s about the adults. Their performance, their grievance, their weaponisation of the flag. The far right didn’t stumble upon this story; they engineered it. A girl in a Union Jack dress becomes a national martyr, a school is hounded into closure, and the flag flies higher because of it. This isn’t about inclusion. It’s about intimidation. Once again, they’ve made the butcher’s apron the price of admission, and Labour’s too afraid to say otherwise.
Europe is not being overrun—it’s running out. Of workers, of births, of time. François Bayrou’s budget bombshell is less about fiscal rules than demographic reckoning. Fortress Europe clings to nostalgia while the tax base collapses. No amount of white-baby fantasies or border theatre will reverse the maths. The future demands what no mainstream party dares admit: migration, not austerity, is the condition of survival.
Trump isn’t reopening Alcatraz. He’s pointing at the ruins and saying: this is what we’ll do to them. It’s not
Dugin is no longer prophesying. He’s grieving. What was once a militant theology of MAGA as civilisational rebirth has curdled into lament. Trump, the anointed disruptor, has become just another functionary—an “object,” not a “subject.” The Deep State wasn’t slain, the Epstein files remain sealed, Israel is unchallenged. Dugin’s dream wasn’t defeated in battle. It drowned in compromise.